Sunday, July 3, 2011

Dallas does...moronism.

A very famous television doctor once said, "Pick me. Choose me. Love me," as she stared pleadingly into the eyes of her gorgeous, but taken, Dr. McDreamy.
In just six words (granted, they formed 3 sentences) Meredith Grey was able to say exactly what we're all thinking the minute we realize we like someone enough for them to hurt us: Please don't break my heart.
If we're all looking for love, then why does one person always end up doing the pleading?
Moms across the world would say that it's because we all mature at different rates. The person you're meant to end up with is the person who will finally be on the same page as you.
Many of the world's women would scowl and proclaim that hearts get broken because of the proclivity of douchebaggery in the men of planet Earth.
And insulted men could counter with an idea I've heard more times than I wish to count: Women are just plain crazy.
So what's the answer? How does love become so one-sided?
Well my friends, I'll tell you my own best guess at the answer: It's because love makes us morons.
Morons who stop being able to rationalize in the realm of reality because we've caught the 6 o'clock train to LoveLand (pun intended). Morons who can't hear the same advice they've given to friends dozens of times because their ears are clogged with cotton candy and rainbows and those absurdly cartoonish cupids shooting heart arrows.
And as my favorite author J.D. Salinger says, "All morons hate it when you call them a moron."
We let ourselves be morons because we've already used the plot of every romantic comedy we've ever seen to plot a course where this runaway train of a relationship is going to get back on course in time for the happy ending.
And I my friends, am one hopeless case of moronism.
My guy friend likes to call my heart the "best and worst" part of who I am.
It's the best because I'll love you forever with a fervor usually lost with baby teeth.
And the worst because I'll love you forever with a fervor usually lost with baby teeth...even when anyone in their right mind would have given up hope.
Hope that you'll be wooed into being the version of you that my imagination has dreamed up.
I trick myself into the loving the version of people I know they could be if I just waited a little longer, wiped away a few more tears, crafted a few more perfect phrases.
And so I drive myself crazy with the wait, positive that this time, I'm actually going to be right.
Now, I have been right sometimes. Enough times to prove that maybe my own special kind of heart disease isn't so bad.
But I still wish that, for once, I could watch that episode of Grey's Anatomy and see myself in Derek Shepherd's shoes. See myself as the one making the decision, instead of the one doing the pleading.
Lucky for me, when God gave me my extra special enlarged heart, he also threw in a heaping spoonful of optimism.
You see, I don't picture myself successfully overcoming my moronic ways anytime soon, but I do believe that there comes a time when all of us will find a person that will match us side for side.
And it's that belief that helps me smile when I read the phrase, "Hearts are made to be broken."
Because, in the end, I have enough heart to go around. And enough optimism to put together the pieces when it does get broken.
And so my gentle readers, tonight I wish for you a life filled with the perfect moronism that leads to a whoppingly huge broken heart. And the faith that you'll need to pull yourself together to try again.

Love, Kels

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