You May Prefer Death...

Originally published Friday, May 19, 2006

They say that, to the brain, chocolate feels almost exactly like love. Of course, chocolate is a lot harder to get off your sheets...

I was just reading a friend's blog wherein she lays out, in rather painful detail, a recent dating train wreck. (Dont worry folks; she was thrown clear before the engine jumped the rail.) Her missive got me thinking about my old dating days; that special time in my life when I had no idea what I wanted and no idea how to get it, when "love" was just an alternate spelling for "lust," when "the blues" was more than a musical style; it was also my pet-name for my man-bits.

While I'm sure it's hard to imagine it today, during the heyday of my daring and misspent youth the female equation was for me a mountain too imposing and too high. I spent the better portion of my formative years fumbling for purchase on anything and everything that batted an eyelash within striking distance. (Yes, they batted, and I struck out.) To this day I'm not sure whether the problem was that I was socially inept, or that I was inept socially.

Dont believe what they tell you; it's desperation that's blind, not love. I couldn't tell the difference between a woman who found me entertaining and a woman who was entertaining thoughts of suicide as a humane way of sparing us both further embarrassment at the hands of my unschooled and unskilled advances. Seriously, the only way I knew to be sure a woman was interested in me was to open my eyes while we were kissing to see if she was grimacing or actually enjoying the experience. Self-confidence was for sissies! Dating only means something if it scares the shit out of you, and for me it was a trial by desire.

Yes, the single life was a real blast! Throughout it all, I held tight to the conviction that there must be something more, something better in life if only I could find it. Fast forward a bit and I stumbled headlong into married life, which cured me of that conviction. (It's critical that I mention here that the above refers to my FIRST marriage to she-who-shall-not-be-named; critical both for clarity and because I hope to live past the point where my sweet, wonderful, loving wife of 10 years who happens to know Kung Fu reads this.)

But back to dating... There is nothing wrong with the concept in and of itself; you cast a net around you and see what fails to claw its way clear before you pull the net in. Men like to think they are the ones casting the nets, but thats just because we're genetically wired for hunting and gathering. No, in my experience it is the woman who ensnares the man; and if she likes you well enough she may decide to keep you for a while... usually in a box in her basement or in her walk-in closet if you behave. (Your dating experiences may vary somewhat from mine.)

In the end, dating eventually leads either to marriage or to death. This second (and final) time around, I am quite happy with the marriage alternative. Sure, some will argue that death is preferable, and that's their call, but for me married life has definite advantages that go far beyond simply not decomposing in a box underground. For starters, youre not decomposing in a box underground. Also, there's a certain Zen-ness to embracing the knowledge that you will never, ever, win another argument.