Category: Hopeless Romanticism

Game Theory

Kaylee: Well, you confound me some, is all.  I mean, you like me well enough, and we get along, and then you go all stiff.
Simon: I….I’m not…..I didn’t….
Kaylee: See you’re doing it right now!  What’s so damn important about being proper?  It don’t mean nothin’ out here in the black.
Simon: It means more out here.  It’s all I have.  I mean, my way of being polite, or however it’s….well it’s the only way I have of showing you that I like you.  I’m showing respect.

Firefly, Episode 7 – Jaynestown

…and that’s all I have to say about that…


Commenter Derek R mentions this interesting piece and this caught my eye:

There’s a saying that you should never ask anyone why they love you. [This is news to me – where do they say this nugget of wisdom?]  This is true — don’t do it. You shouldn’t be rationalizing or analyzing that feeling because the more you do, the more it fades.

In general, I would agree with this.  Very often love is quite literally irrational, and I often think maybe it’s meant to be so, in order to remind us that the truly important things are felt rather than thought.

And yet there was this one time when I loved and knew why.  And even though I can honestly say I’m glad she found what she was looking for, it’s remembering the why that stops it truly fading.

Red, in The Shawshank Redemption, says it much better than I ever could:

I have to remind myself that some birds aren’t meant to be caged. Their feathers are just too bright. And when they fly away, the part of you that knows it was a sin to lock them up DOES rejoice. But still, the place you live in is that much more drab and empty that they’re gone.

I guess I just miss my friend.

Note to My Future Wife

Dearest Sunshine,

First of all, I’d like to take this opportunity to thank you for the wonderful times we’ve had so far together.   Especially all the times when I’ve done something ludicrously stupid, and you’ve just smiled and given me a hug.  Seriously, those moments are awesome!

Now you may be wondering why I’m writing this note.  Well, there’s something I need to say, and I don’t know how else to broach the subject, so I’ll just put it out there and let you ponder it in your own time.  After our whirlwind romance and shotgun wedding, you may not have realised that we are yet to spend Valentine’s Day together, and herein lies my quandry.

You may know by now that V-Day and I have never really gotten on.  It’s safe to say that this is one relationship that is beyond repair.  I know how much you appreciate romantic gestures, and I’m all for it.  I just hate to have other people tell us what our significant dates are.  It’s our marriage, after all, not theirs!

So here’s my proposal – and it can’t really be worse than the last one, eh?! 😉

I promise we’ll have Valentine’s Day every year.  With a card and everything.  Just not on the 14th of February.  We’ll mix it up and we can celebrate (ie theme the day by) any random event from our life together we want (like our first date, or our favourite song, or that time we broke down on the M25 in a blizzard – the sky’s the limit!).

I want Valentine’s Day to be ours, body and soul, and I don’t want to compete with everyone else for its affections.  It demeans us all.

I hope you like the idea.  It really means a lot to me, but so do you, and I want to know what you honestly think.

Love forever,

Your Adoring Fraggle

PS – We should see your parents this weekend.

PPS – Have you seen my socks?

[Have come to the conclusion that I need to walk the walk a bit and start revealing more of myself – which means telling the stories that I, whether rationally or not, don’t really like talking about.  Here goes…]

I should preface this by saying that there were a few things that ‘started by the Poole’ and this is just one of them, but it’s the one on my mind right now so it’s the one getting told.

‘Poole’ refers to a church singles event that happened back in the summer over a weekend in..well….Poole.

At Poole, I met a girl (I met a few, but I’m only telling one story here, remember?) – Codename: Grace.  Ironically, the first time I saw her on the Friday evening I didn’t even really notice her, but rather her friend.  Grace didn’t really register at the time.  It wasn’t until the following afternoon when activities had migrated to the beach, that I finally took notice.  I have to say, I wasn’t impressed.  Her and her friends quickly appeared to isolate themselves from everyone else, and I came to the conclusion that this was the ‘fit & don’t-we-know-it’ group.  The annoying kind because even though you know you’d be wasting your time with them, you end up attracted to them anyway and loathing yourself for it.  And so it was that I wanted to talk to Grace anyway, but simply not having the nerve to take on her AND her friends.

Fast-forward to the Sunday morning breakfast, as I looked for somewhere to sit with my Rice Krispies (they always take me back to my childhood!) I saw someone I knew, an empty chair next to her and in the next chair was Grace sitting by herself.  This was my chance, and for once I took it.  It was actually a very easy conversation, and during it I made a startling discovery.  She remarked that she’d come to Poole with the goal of meeting 10 new people, because she often struggles with it.  It was at this point that I learned…

Lesson #1: First impressions are unreliable!

What I’d taken as haughtiness was, in fact, shyness.

There was a bit of a hiccup with getting her number later in the day (and that’s a story I’m not yet ready to tell – it’s seriously pathetic!), but in the end, success was had and some time later a date was arranged.  From my perspective it was extremely stressful because I really didn’t have much of a plan, and what plan I did have was pretty rubbish (like going to a museum when it’s shut….genius, Fraggle!).  That said, it was enjoyable and we talked pretty much the whole time, I don’t remember there being any particularly awkward pauses – well, except for the point where she demanded to know why I didn’t think a particular feature on a building was breathtakingly beautiful (if it sounds like a strange moment, that’s because it was!).  For some reason I totally locked up at that point.  I felt like I really *should* have an answer for the question, but the truth was I didn’t.  It didn’t bother me one way or the other, but I’d managed to in that moment convince myself that that was somehow a character defect. Thus…

Lesson #2: Don’t take everything so darn personally!

I still wonder whether when we parted that night, she was hoping I would kiss her or something.  As it was, I’d decided beforehand that it was too early for anything like that, but I admit I felt a bit disappointed in myself afterwards that I didn’t simply consider the situation on it’s merits. (and no, I’m not entirely sure what I mean by that)

The last time I saw Grace was at another event a week or so later.  By this time though, my shyness had reasserted itself and I found myself unable to approach her even after we saw each other and said Hi.  We spoke very briefly a couple of times, but nothing substantial.

Lesson #3: Don’t think that there’s time for you to be shy.  You have no idea what’s coming…

At the end of the day before she left I gave her a gift that referenced the date and was utterly surprised when she then announced she was going to kiss me on the cheek!

Lesson #4: Sometimes awesome things happen.  Enjoy them while they last!

Little did I know that in this case it wouldn’t be lasting very long at all.  When I next spoke to her (with the intention of arranging another date), she informed me that she’d just started a relationship.  <Sigh>

The problem with real stories is that usually, the narrative is incomplete.  There are a fair number of questions outstanding for me (which are basically an attempt to see things from her perspective).  I have to accept that those questions will never be answered…

Lesson #5: You need a way to learn without feedback, because you can’t rely on it being available.

Poole itself was an interesting experience for me because I experienced myself in a way that I’m not used to – that weekend I became almost semi-confident and have found myself frustrated that I’ve been unable to capture that and bring some of whatever Pixie dust I ran that into back then with me into the normal world.  Yet another mystery to ponder…


I’ve been very tempted recently to delete one of my previous posts, of which I am now well and truly embarrassed.  The form is clunky, the function is foolishness and the message is borderline childish.  I must, however, absolutely resist that temptation.  I hate mistakes with a passion (I clearly remember getting upset several times in my last year of lower school when I didn’t get 100% on a maths test – especially if my best friend did!  Yeah….I’m a really good friend…), but what I hate more is other people knowing about them.

Nevertheless, to hide my mistakes is to hide *me*, and I’ve become far too effective at hiding myself.  You cannot truly love a thing a that is not revealed.  Which means if you are not revealed, you cannot be loved.  The best you can achieve is owning a facade that is loved, but that is not actually you, and thus leaves you unfulfilled.  Indeed, don’t be surprised if you find yourself resenting someone for loving the facade instead of you.

I have a long way to go.

There are some things that though discomforting to see at the best of times actually become horrific when viewed with the Georgist lens, and this Newsnight piece (don’t forget to watch the video) is a good example.  If you think the British are hung up on housing, you ain’t seen nothing yet!

…appears to be making a blog post about your lack of confidence.  Nothing of interest has happened in the past two days, but suddenly I’m feeling awesome! to conquer the world!

Valentine’s is never good for my state of mind, regardless of how over it I am intellectually.  The simple fact is I feel too much, and have never learned how to properly express those feelings, which leaves me at the same time both insipid and manic.  Not a good combination. Continue reading

Heart of a Poet

[Still feeling creative…my word can I be a soppy so-and-so]

The heart of a poet…
I have heard of such
in legend,
lauded in hushed tones of awe. Continue reading

[I’ve discovered why I struggle to write about personal stuff.  It’s to do with the finality of publishing.  Once it’s out, it stands alone ready to be ignored or belittled.  Every mistake and weakness out there on full show.  I have to be bigger than that though, ’cause I’m about done with hiding.

This is probably gonna cause a bit of grief…] Continue reading