Something along the lines of links that fellow blogging female friends have been posting:

The case for settling for Mr. Good Enough

(The entire article is interesting, but page three is of particular interest. Those of you who know me well may fathom why.)

Part of being a realist is also realizing that things don’t need to be perfect in order to work. But the location of distinctions and limiting lines to be drawn does ultimately differ from person to person; the article, I think, is overly cynical and pretty much applies to those who don’t go into life with their eyes open from the start. All I know is that happy solitude is possible for many women these days, but something of an uncomfortable prospect for me. It’s possible to be happy and alone (oh, if I had more teardrop ornaments it would be gorgeous…ooh, wind!…and no one to stare blankly at my tangential rambling.) but for some arbitrary reason, biological (ugh) or psychological (ugh), the be-happy-when-you’re-single is ultimately a short term plateau meant to be perched on for the duration of a time period during which you’ve got other priorities. Once the rest of your life is sorted out, why not start up another incline?

(’course, at this point in my life, I am far from sorted out. Hence why I agreed with the twin-sister when she suggested that my answer was pending.)

Of course, though, one has to wonder what the flip side is for men. Women are oh-so-affable to voicing their thoughts and ponderings (if this circuitous sort-of-blog wasn’t enough of an indication) but men aren’t. And perhaps they don’t think about these things as much as we do. Is it simpler to them? Were it so simple for us, maybe things wouldn’t be so convoluted in these lives. We are the ones biologically and sociologically wired to think about consequences and benefits; we are the analysts, minimizing shortfalls and cushioning impacts, applying bandages to skinned knees and creating the statistic that married men have longer lifespans than single men (scientific proof: getting laid is good for you. cultural premise: it’s easier for the guys to do so) and married women might not– mostly because we spend our times making sure that they’re healthy and dressed correctly for x number of meetings or dinners and finding that having a significant other is much like taking care of a child who’s at least your age. When men come home, their levels of stress hormone decrease. When women come home, their stress levels reach a second peak– it’s time for the second work shift of the day, at home. And thus, cancer incidence. Go figure. Of course there are other facets unexplored. Of course I haven’t touched on a thing that’s objective. But these are all there.

My mother concedes all this and tells me to be strong and independent and– but, dear, don’t marry a man who’d just stay at home, you know? You still have to get one that is capable, strong.

Facepalm, ma. Yes, ma. Subtle contradictions, ma, but I think my judgment’s gotten better (in regards to myself). It’s always been fantastic (in regards to helping other people with their relationships and god knows not mine). And if needed, by the skies, I will raise myself because the strength and capability of a person have almost nothing to do with their commitment to another.

College first. Work next. Surreptitious harboring of doubts at the back of my mind to be taken out and mulled over every so lonely often. And now, an extra variable in the equation. I think I’ll label him l.

—

“It is cold as a bitch bent on revenge,” I gritted out, and my friend laughed hysterically; we would have said more but every movement of lips exposed them to the ravaging wind (oh why, wind) and each step lenghtened the distance to warmth.

Welcome to winter. I love it so and it is merciless.

—

Singing and writing. Science and waffling. I would much rather do the former than the latter. Such is life.

There is a delicate glass hummingbird dangling below a shelf in Favorite Tiny Shop. Seven dollars. Anything that can be captured solely with a photo is not worth it– but frugality overrode.

EDIT 7:35 PM: I’d like to point to Alice’s comment below for truth. From long-lasting marriages, like my parents’ and those of others of my friends, and from those that didn’t work out, I’m inclined to agree that friendships and compatibility go farther than any flash-flame of passion will ever reach.