A reader has engaged with me via email about my relationship with TC. Now this reader isn’t just some Joe about town, he’s obviously quite intelligent, educated and perhaps got some expertise in how people think.
His email starts by buttering me up on how great I am. I am indeed. But even I clearly can hear above the band noise, the trigger being cocked. He aims carefully, provides all kinds of disclaimers and takes his best shot. His fundamentally question is whether TC has the capability to go the distance with me.
While he agrees that love, sex and companionship are must haves. He counters that all the evidence shows that there must be a strong element of ‘personal’ compatibility if you want a relationship to last – because in the end you both become representatives for each other to the world.
He continues not to offer opinion but simply to ask questions. Do you both have the same level of intelligence, emotional intelligence, resources, social attitudes, energy and attitudes to work, status and achievement for example? Do you both genuinely have shared interests? He writes on and concludes, “Can TC access your world?”
I gulp hard and reach for the small bottle of brandy to fortify my night-time tea. In actuality my reader has asked a business question, “What has TC brought to the table?” I gulp again. Brandy should definitely come in gallon jugs.
I tried to frame this in my mind, “if I were in a straight relationship and TC was a woman” would I be in a relationship with him/her. The good news, I found some Irish whiskey hidden in the back behind the Cointreau. My vision starts to blur.
These questions are very upsetting. The answers even perhaps more so. Trying to replace my wife is a tough act for any other human being to follow. She’s a classy and intelligent woman. I’ve met plenty of married woman I would have out for the Tuesday trash pickup (and I’m not talking the blue recycling bin either).
Is it fair to impose those standards on TC? But I am deflecting, Would I be better served with a perhaps an older guy I might consider more in my country club? How about maybe a young upstart fag, well-educated, energized to match my ambition? Or am I simply the old geezer who goes for the big boobed blonde, entertained with the sheer novelty of a new sports car.
Like it or not, you play the cards you hold in your hand. You can’t imagine cards you’re not holding. You play the hand you’ve got.
Prior to meeting my wife, I dated only a few handful of woman. My first long-term GF was a loser. A bad egg who I dated for 5 years. I knew she was no good for me. But I didn’t dump her (which I should have). Men don’t dump to nothing. We’re not built that way. Luckily, my ambition got me to Europe and she choked on moving. I then played the field a little. Nothing terribly serious, dinner and a movie. When I met my wife, I just knew this was the girl I’m gonna married. She laughed that I didn’t propose, but whipped out my calendar and asked for us to pick a date.
I am deflecting. Next window please, this one is closed.