There’s an old adage that love finds you when you least expect it. Maybe that’s true but I’m getting pretty damn tired of waiting around for it to catch up with me! Part of it’s my fault but some of it’s beyond my control…or is it?
I’m a risk taker in all aspects of life so not afraid to take a chance to find the right person. Only a man determined to find love would chart his course based on the prison pen pal program (which would have worked except they kept raising the cost of stamps!) and then Russian mail order brides to ultimately end up at The Fish. These are not the actions of a shrinking violet but a man taking charge of his destiny!
The sound of ticking clocks made Neenah Pickett decide to set a deadline to find a husband…52 weeks. There just seems to be something wrong with the idea of placing a time limit on finding “the one”. Finding love is hard enough so does anyone really need the added pressure of a self-imposed deadline? I say no but understand her sense of urgency…I also hear the ticking of the clock as I careen headlong towards 40 (T-minus 106 days and counting) and the magic moment when my odds of ever marrying are reduced to less than 10%.
I’d also be afraid to pick the wrong person simply to meet the deadline because I hate to fail at anything (which is humorous because I’ve failed at almost everything at least once…usually twice). If I did pick the wrong person then maybe the next experiment could be called “Losing love in 52 weeks” or maybe “Losing half of all my stuff in 52 weeks”. Even if I failed, it would mean I succeeded if only for a short time…much better than my recent dating adventures .
I’m not down on dating as I’m in a very good place and happy with my life as it exists now. Would I like more? Sure…who wouldn’t but I’m not going to turn into a pumpkin if the clock strikes 12 at the end of the 52nd week and I’m still checking the single box.
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