Stuck in a state of bloggers’ block, my friend Peter suggested I write about the contents of my fridge and how they reflect my relationship status. I laughed, and realized that my fridge generally has two states: 1. a warehouse for outdated, mouldy, unrecognizable and possibly toxic food, and 2. empty (in both cases, cold). Nope. No parallels there.
And then it hit me. I approach my fridge much like I approach dating. I love the idea of a full fridge, stocked only with foods that are delicious and mostly good for me. I don’t, however, love the idea (or the reality) of grocery shopping or fridge maintenance. In my apathy, my fridge (and my diet) deteriorate.
Similarly, I want to find true and lasting love – the human equivalent of the fully stocked fridge. But I am less enthusiastic about the work required to get there. This likely explains why I have spent far more of my life single than in coupledom. I have little time or patience for those I feel aren’t “the one.” It feels like stocking my fridge with groceries I don’t even like and know are destined for the garbage (liver falls into this category).
There have been a few fleeting times (in spite of my lack of effort) I thought I’d found “the one” (often before even the first date and sometimes before the first ‘hello’ – I have a good imagination). In my mind, I created the perfect match (like spotting a glorious cut of steak in the grocery flyer and imagining how it’s going to taste before even going to the store). So far, reality has fallen short.
First of all, there’s resistance to following my grocery list of qualities and characteristics (and of course the requisite devotion to me). I am often left wondering:
“Did you even READ the script I wrote for you? Your line is: ‘My God. How have I lived up until now without you? You are the sun and the moon and the stars all rolled up into one passionate, fiery, shining light of my life.’”
In spite of my disappointment at the rampant liberties taken with this script on several occasions, I’ve realized that – like beer and yogurt – some people just weren’t meant to go together, and that’s ok.
The bottom line is, I’m not giving up on love (I am however, letting the script go). Hell, I may even give the fridge another chance. Because if love’s like the fridge (and everything else in life), it would seem you get out of it what you put into it.