About my love life: there's no question that I'm looking for 'the one.' I want a companionable friend with whom to share adventure, sex, and the quotidian rhythms of a life well-lived, moment to moment. But, to find this friendship--this love--I need to let myself fall a little headlong into relationships that may well not become that. I need to allow myself some measured recklessness. At this late date, there's nothing overly precious--precious in the sense of over-worked--about the process of getting to know someone, nothing that requires more thought than is necessary for basic good judgment; that is, you can't think your way into a relationship. You gotta trust that little instinct that whispers to you from behind the wall of noise created by your gibbering monkey mind and go for it.
And so, this morning I'm irritated by my date last night, in which it became clear to me that the forty-something, never-been-married, quietly sexy, intelligent woman I've been out with a few times has decided to proceed with a steely caution for which I have little patience. I don't want to keep my engine idling, waiting to figure out that the relationship is 'right' before exercising a little recklessness, as she seems to wish. Life may always be high school, but, it's not all high school, for God's sake.
When acting on stage or film you pursue an objective while not allowing that objective to drain the spontaneity out of any given moment that precedes achieving it. The same in love.
So, I have to call this woman up today and break off this stilted little affair in the not-making. And it's back to Match.com. Crapola.