Pat Benatar was a genius. Love really is a battlefield. It's chaotic. It's full of rash decisions that you're positive are right a the time, but you can never really assess the damage until all the dust has settled. And it can surprise you, just like an ambush.
We are young, heartache to heartache we stand
No promises, no demands
Love is a battlefield
We are strong, no one can tell us were wrong
Searchin our hearts for so long,
both of us knowing...Love is a battlefield
The other night I went to a baseball game with McNerdy. I hadn't seen him in ages, and John Boy is out of the country. When I got back, Scarlet asked me how the game, and McNerdy, was. I responded with, "I realized that McNerdy is not nearly as much fun as John Boy." Scarlet laughed and told me there was a time she never would have guessed she would hear something like that from me.
I agree. There was a time when I thought McNerdy was the cat's pajamas. He and I were as close as you could get to a guarantee. It was really only a matter of time. He didn't seem all that comfortable with an actual relationship, but I was convinced I was the one who would change all that. But he kept stringing me along until I couldn't figure out if we were in fact just friends. People asked what was going on with us, and I would answer that I had no idea.
You're beggin me to go, you're makin me stay
Why do you hurt me so bad?
It would help me to know
Do I stand in your way, or am I the best thing you've had?
Not really a good sign when you're one of the people involved. Eventually, he realized he better make a move or lose my devotion, so he did, then continue to string me along without telling me what was going on, until he finally socked me in the gut with a big fat dose of reality. Even after he ripped my heart out and stomped on it a few times, I still couldn't figure out what went wrong with such a seemingly sure thing.
Of course hindsight is 20/20, and now I realize that McNerdy had a big fat stick up his ass (and while it's loosened up a bit, it's still up there). And while he is still a good friend (I am apparently a more forgiving person than I thought I could be), I realized the other night that I would much rather be hanging out with John Boy- and not just because of the benefits that come later. McNerdy wouldn't hold my stack of All-Star ballots, lining them up for me so I could punch out five at a time, and John Boy wouldn't roll his eyes at me for doing so. Last week John Boy really, really wanted me to come out to his place to hang out and grill with some of his friends. And while I initially scoffed at driving an entire hour out of the city (how quickly I've become a city snob), I was happy to go, and had an excellent time. Then I realized that in the year that was McNerdy's and my imaginary relationship, he never once invited me onto his turf. Of course, I noticed this at the time, but I brushed it off. We were a sure thing, you know.
Once of the things that convinced me that McNerdy was so perfect, was that he was exactly my type. As the name would imply, he was the perfect dose of nerd. On the skinny side, glasses, well-read, prefers staying in with a friend over going out. As much as McNerdy is my type, John Boy is not. He's big and burly, and likes his beer. I can barely tell you what color his hair is, because I've seen him without a baseball cap once, (and that was in my room; it was dark...) and he has tattoos! Three of them! Which I refuse to let him show me. He voted for George W. Bush (gah!), but then rectified that by voting for Obama last year. And as I discovered last week when I couldn't breathe, he easily outweighs every guy I've ever been, er, horizontal with by at least 50 pounds. But when I say jump, he asks "how far?" and has emailed me pretty much every day from the tropical beach he's been hanging out on (and did I mention that he told me I should accompany him and his friends multiple times? My bank account didn't really allow for it.) And not only is he not intimidated by my sporty prowess, he took me to the driving range and I believe was a bit turned on by my natural affinity for a 9-iron. (Had our dad been a pushy sports parent, Grayer and I would be the Williams sisters of golf, I swear.)
But all of this really doesn't matter, since he will be making himself geographically unavailable in just a few weeks. I remember when I was a bit relieved when he told me this; I needed an easy out. "Be careful what you wish for" is a cliche' for a reason. As Scarlet pointed out, I'm going to need a distraction when he's gone, so I'm dragging myself out to meet The Highlander tomorrow for ice cream.
No promises, no demands...Love is a battlefield.
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