Oh, the neighbor boy!

August 5, 2013

Statistics show that many people end up marrying someone they grew up with, someone who lived right down the street from their front door, played Kick The Can, in the same neighborhood, in the cool summer evenings, ate corn from the same local fields, read the same borrowed library books, paid little attention to the stars, from the same tilt of the earth. My friends had great expectations of my meeting that boy-next-door at the reunion, and realizing we were truly in love all along. Hm. I just could not envision myself with the few dudes that are actually single in our class. It isn’t that no one caught my eye and yet, the woman maintaining stink-eye contact with me from the other side of the room prevented me from running off, and marrying him.

Don’t get me wrong, there was a lot of flirting going on, lots of hugs, elbow-grabbing, and exchanging of longing looks, but I kept it clean as a whistle. No one to have to explain my poor choices to, no necessary “I am sorry, I stole your husband, the father of your children, away from you.” It just wasn’t meant to be.

I am not ready to give up hope just yet, though he will most likely NOT be from Middleton High School, at least not from my grade, particularly the men that were at the parties last weekend.

Widening my circle and throwing out the lure, just so you know.