Let Me Use Your Life Experiences For My Own Haphazard Education, Please.
Sadly, certain parts of yesterday’s post were a little bit premature. Namely, anything mentioning the President. We had our second and last argument (“discussion” if we’re using my parents’ verbage), and promptly decided we were no good for eachother. I have a lot of respect for him, although it was clear that we would murder one another, or probably ruin both of our careers if we continued on. Plus, there’s a lot that I can’t really write here because he doesn’t deserve to be aired out on my blog. I’ve learned my lesson there, so we will just wish him the best of luck while he exits the life of [Dagnydarling].
I went to Chipotle today– no, that’s not the whole point of this blog, although it could very well be. While waiting patiently for my burrito (does anyone know why they use GOLD wrappers now?!), a group of very loud, very annoying, I-don’t-understand/respect-personal-space teenaged boys stood behind me. And then one of them declared the following:
“I’m going to marry the first girl I fall in love with.”
I promptly fell in love with him before remembering that that is illegal in California and took a step to distance myself from this prebubescent Romeo.
Homeboy thinks he’s going to marry his first love. Granted, homeboy is only probably 17 right now… but hey, it could happen. And I think that’s awesome. (I also suspect he’ll be divorced shortly after if we’re taking statistics into consideration, but hey. Po-tay-tow, Po-tah-tow).
So now that I’m rounding out something like True Love #43 (I date a lot), I wonder what my life would have been if I married my first love: the goobery musician with a big heart- who I last heard is technically homeless that I dated at 17. At 17, let’s be real, a lot was going wrong with me– I included a picture to prove this point. So whether it was the blond hair, or bad tan, or cumbersome braces, I was still working into “me.” As much as I was certain that we would be married though, I am inexplicably grateful that I didn’t marry him. I would have been miserable. In the process of being wretched, I am pretty sure I would have destroyed his life, too. So we count our blessings- even if they were unwanted at the time.
I’m not a whole hell of a lot closer to marriage today than I was at 17- except that maybe I have an earnest desire to be married and I stopped doing my make-up like a tranny. But I couldn’t have married the President, although he was what you would have wanted in a husband, and my first love, bless his heart is everything you wouldn’t want.
There’s no big resolution to this post- except to notify you all that the Prez got impeached sort of early (a little cheesy, I know), and apparently that 17 year old boys are far more romantic than I remember them being. What I would love Love LOVE, though, is for anyone to tell me about their first love (and then to give them THIS SURVEY). I’ll settle for just the story about your first love though.
My own experiences are not learning experiences enough, so I’m simply asking to let me
keep yours forever buried deep in my subconscious borrow yours.
(Final thought: What a sweet book that would make… Damn my creative ideas coming so late at night I’m too lazy to do anything about it).
(Final final thought: “so late at night?” It’s 9:30. Fuck, I’m old.)