I joked with some friends the other day that I keep learning a little bit more about women each week and that, in a scant 972 years, I should have them figured out. But other than the whole "read my mind instead of me verbalizing my thoughts" mystery, I actually don't think it's THAT complicated. I mean, it's not rocket science to show other humans you care about them. I guess it's just a question of actually doing the small and not-so-small gestures to show it. And finding the right girl.
Finding her makes all the little indignities of the dating experience worth it. In and around my college years, I took some mighty, Casey-in-Mudville-type hacks*, but they didn't lead to anything. When I was younger I almost desperately wanted to find her, but I surely wasn't ready. Then I realized it was a blessing to start out on one's own, learning about money and running a household (I know, using that term loosely here). In ensuing years, enjoying the autonomy of living alone and perhaps seeing Debra berate Ray one too many times on "Everybody Loves Raymond," I was in no hurry for any of that. Hopefully I've reached a balance in recent years, ready to go for it when I find her but no longer in some great rush. I mean, it is fun to have authoritarian control over the many pointless little decisions that make up a decent chunk of life.
**"And now the pitcher holds the ball, and now he lets it go,
And now the air is shattered by the force of Casey's blow."
Really, though, what are we looking for? Well, Kate Upton, who by being on a magazine cover can hold up a checkout line almost as much as someone paying by check. Kidding aside, there's more to it than that. Like personality, to borrow from that catchy old Lloyd Price song.
The other night, I was staying up too late, watching 30 Rock. I'm not sure if it was sleep deprivation, but I found myself debating Liz Lemon's attractiveness, in her quirky sort of way. Why? Well, turns out a woman being smart, funny and witty is pretty attractive. I mean, if I find a woman who can appreciate (tolerate?) my occasionally convoluted quips, and spin a few of her own, then I think we'd be doing okay. More than okay, even.