While mowing my lawn at dusk, (I don't like to be hot), the front wheel slipped off the edge of the curb and the blades hit the metal drain nearby. An impressive orange spark appeared along with the clang heard over the mower motor and I jerked the device back while wondering how much damage I'd done.
I shrugged before continuing my clipping path, finally finishing and deciding my yard looked rather nice, courtesy of the trimming my parents had done last weekend. I showered off the sweat and pull on clean pajamas, snuggling into my sofa and opening my laptop.
Surprisingly enough, I've not been obsessing over what to do with this space. It is bothersome that that I've acquired unfriendly readers, but it's also unsurprising. So while posting will remain hit or miss, where else would I put photos of Japan in a month? Or share that I still can't eat with chopsticks?
I have, however, been hinting that I'm less than satisfied with my romantic situation. After two years of being trained to make optimal priority and scope decisions, I've taken a new look at this and decided I don't necessarily want children. Therefore, marriage is totally optional in my situation - I have my own stuff and can afford it. I'm befuddled when people apologize that I spend a weekend alone. "No," I want to correct them, "I love it. It can be sleepy and quiet - I watch television and read books and go for walks. I eat what I want when I want it and only answer the phone if I feel like it. Then when Monday comes, I actually want to see people again - laugh and talk and enjoy!"
So, I decided, squinting at my mental list of necessary male qualities, if I don't have plans to reproduce or even introduce this person to my family or colleagues, that removes a number of prerequisites. If the specific aim is an event with sparks - attraction and satisfaction and the like - then the whole matter is greatly simplified.
I have therefore Done Something.
And I have a Plan A and Plan B. (There are also plans C-F, but I've not completely thought through them. The point is that late 2010 is the Affair.)
This could be, of course, an unmitigated disaster wherein I become a syphilitic shell of my former self. But I plan to be careful and am aware of the risks. The alternative, you see, is being mind-numbingly boring. And I'm tired of the only sparks I mention come from a lawnmower accident.