I just went to a press screening of "Under the Tuscan Sun", in which Diane Lane's character asks this of us in plaintive voiceover...a question I have asked myself often enough in my own life -- several times in the past WEEK alone -- that, if I had a dollar for each time, I'd have none of my current concerns about money.
In spite of the emotional uplift I received from the beautifully produced film, I still came away with the same melancholy that has plagued me for what is now too damn long.
I have been a single woman for almost four years, if you don't count the torrid-but-unrealistic relationship that took place for the first two of them. Well-meaning friends have encouraged me to get back in the game for the last two, and the Internet has become everyone's first suggestion for taking such a step. In the past few months, I've actually met a few men of interest via the AOL Member Profiles (they looked me up) and Craigslist (I responded to them). A girlfriend recently invited me to join her on Friendster.com, a pyramid-schemish people-matcher. In order for it to work, apparently, you have to invite friends to hop on with you, and somehow we all interconnect. It's meant to create a safe e-environment in which to meet your next best friend or lover or soulmate. Fine. I filled out the form, which asked me for vitals (as if it were their business) and a few of my favorite things, and I'll probably recruit a few appropriates to come along for the ride. But, cheery Friendster testimonials aside, I'm still not quite sure how this thing works. I do know they have live Friendster gatherings occasionally -- just to get us out of our cages and burrows, I suppose.
It's a dangerous business, opening up one's bruised heart after keeping it in hiding for so long. Especially for an easy mark (some call it "romantic" -- go figure) like me, notsomuch a prime candidate for random fucking around. And I'm not sure I wish to don the pink veil of love again, when it so effectively obscures true vision of the one who might be my all-time beloved. If I'm going to love and be loved, I want everything out in the open, scars and warts and all other manner of flaws. We each have them in varying degrees and assortments and, to the extent we know our shortcomings, we should simply lay them out on the counter for our potential partner to peruse. It's easy to match up your best attributes, your likes and wishes...but if your faults match those of your possible spouse, well, now you've got something on which to build a lasting relationship! If we can love each other because and in spite of these character defects (to use one of the more unfortunate AA phrases), how much stronger will that make the bond?
But what the hell do I know, when it's after 2am on a school night and I'm prattling away to an ice-cold blog, for God's sake, instead of contentedly curling up next to a warm-bodied lover?
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