Had a long meeting/chat with Plague tonight. It's been four years since I saw her last. She looks better than I've ever seen her look. And together we're gonna straighten out the disfunctions of the soup kitchen she's volunteering in.
And we talked about men and love and how when you fall in love you go insane. Love is blind. If you're a hopeless romantic you can't avoid the loss of reason. When I was young I was in love with love. It took a string of broken hearts and disenchantments to cure it. Now, in my 50s, it would take a house falling on my head to turn it.
Which worries me. Our Aunt Mimi was single all her life and everyone said she was just too picky. She didn't need a man. She was a successful woman in her own right. Personally, I never thought much about it, but after she'd been to our house it was my Mom's hot topic of discussion. Mimi was critical of men. She wouldn't take chances. She had no patience. She'd end up bitter. Her standards were much too high. You just can't expect men to be that good. "Well, hell, you're supposed to go for any schlep on the street?!" I thought. So I cut lots of slack for the boys I was with and was often treated like crap. And here I am, all these years later, and I'm sure my mother (if she were still around) would give me the Mimi lecture.
Yeah, it kind of sucks to lose the love blinders. I sometimes really wonder if I could ever fall again. Yet I also know if the right guy came along, I would. I don't care about looks or age anymore; it's the mind and heart that matches mine that would do it. Maybe I'm not as invulnerable as I think I am.
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