I'm a bad man

Gee, I suppose I'm supposed to write an inaugural address kicking off a new blog, but not today. Maybe I'll get to it later.

I am a bad man. Not for the usual reasons, I suppose, and perhaps "bad" is a little misleading. Maybe "tainted" like a bad piece of fish. Here's the point: I am a romantic, but my concept of romance is not the same as chicks'. (Oh yes, I use the words chick, dame, babe, etc. If you're keeping score, you should probably add that to the list).

In my mind, there are two types of romance. Like economics and politics, there is micro- and macro-romance. 

First, microromance: holding hands, kissing, candlelight, the full moon, bumping butts with someone in the kitchen, China silk on skin in a warm breeze, pouring Bailey's into a lover's coffee...honestly, I could go on and on. One of the characteristics of microromance is its fleeting nature. The best examples of microromance I have are pure moments, usually simple pleasures. 

Macroromance, in contrast, is a collection of these huge, moving concepts; the kinda shit that can really get you in trouble. Happily Ever After, (HEA), marriage, growing old together, the word "forever," cohabitation... Obviously, these are not fleeting things. No, these are the biggies!

Now, of course, I am damaged goods and all that; a guy that was married for 25 years and opted to change his life. My marriage wasn't horrible, I didn't hate my wife, none of that stuff. But being married for 25 years and raising a couple of boys will change a fellow. Here I sit, changed. Changed, and tainted. You see, I am a huge fan of microromance, but you can keep that macroromance--it's not for me.

When I was younger, I was a world class romantic, and a complete idiot. I REALLY believed the whole enchilada. I connected with the macroromantic ideals in a profound and now, embarrassing way. Seriously, imagine the front row at the premiere of the new Twilight movie: scoop up all those young chicks and smash them together. I was worse. It makes me laugh now, but I blush, too. I was such a lamb.

There are those who would be tempted to wrap their arms around me and say, "There, there, Little Puttum, life has changed you." You could do that, but please don't. You see, I don't think life has changed me as much as educated me. If I am corrupted, I want to stay this way!

Okay, before I go into the soul-crushing myth of HEA, let me say that I do believe in Westley and Buttercup. Yep, I can't deny it, there are some freaks of nature who experience True Love. (Note the caps). And like Miracle Max, it's a tough thing to admit when you see it. But like Miracle Max, I think True Love is INCREDIBLY rare. Incredibly rare and usually involving being dropped on your head as a child. Okay, maybe that's a little mean, but they have True Love, so it's okay to make fun of them.

The thing about True Love: it's not for me, (and probably not for you, either). Why? Because the circumstances that would allow something that incredibly rare do not live inside me. Even if they did, they have to simultaneously live inside the object of my affection. And then there's a timing and circumstance element to the whole thing. Holy crap, it starts to make buying lottery tickets sound reasonable. 

If you haven't guessed already, the root of my issues with romance lie in the 4th dimension, Time. Actually, I think the fourth dimension is more accurately described as duration, and that's a better way to put it. Romance is fleeting, and I'm fine with that. I try to live in the moment, and there are so many wonderful little things to acknowledge. Are they romantic? I have trouble distinguishing these simple, pure moments from microromance sometimes. I love candlelight, for instance. I burn candles very often, and mostly when I'm alone. Is that romantic? It is sensual, I love the flickering light, the playful shadows throughout the room, the subtle scent, the way the light changes the colors of everything. B-b-b-but, I'm alone! For me, romantic. Burning candles with people around, also romantic, (usually). I think I'm just going to paint with a big brush and call all of these things romantic.

If you want to get into trouble, try too hard to hold onto fleeting romance. If a romantic, candlelit dinner was magical and amazing, why shouldn't we experience them every night? Well, because familiarity breeds contempt. Would the sixth dinner in a row still be as magical? Hell no. That doesn't mean one magical dinner has ruined you for the rest of your life. No, it's about moderation. 

And Macroromance is not about moderation. It's about trying to hold onto something fleeting. 

I like the fleeting. Dinner, sailing, candle light, the full moon.