The other day while sitting with our friend at the craft show I found I needed lunch, I mean that’s what happens between breakfast and dinner, right? There was a pizza guy there, an older gent, maybe in his seventies, but could have been a little more. Really charming. Even a little flirtatious.
i got to thinking, but if I just saw his picture, would I or could I ever get that? The stories of Lowell he tells, the shining eyes and mischevious smile?
We go on dating sites and peruse tens or hundreds of potential dates and stop based largely on these superfial qualities. What’s important is how good the picture, not how pure the soul. How cute the dimple, not is he going to bore me silly with another discussion about why the redsox can’t keep his favorite players.
We get to scribble our likes and dislikes, honest or not, but we dare not truly reveal who we are, after all, it is often hard enough even in person.
It reminds me once again of the lost comfort of marriage, trust and really knowing someone, warts and all, very well. No pretensions, few excuses, but maybe some attempt at self improvement.