Forming intimate relationships is a process fraught with peril. We tend to put forth the best version of ourselves and we tend to see the best version of those we engage through ever hopeful glasses of idealism. Finding the ‘good stuff’ in someone else is the ultimate adult Easter egg hunt. If you are still in the game, I applaud you for sticking it out. It’s a long haul for some, for other’s not so much. Everyone’s ‘good stuff’ is different and specific, the elusive unicorn, so it’s hard not to high five ourselves and everyone around us when we think we see even a trace of it someone whose looking our way.
It’s not surprising when we consider a partner we emphasize all the things we have in common. The longer the list, the safer we feel. Dating websites gather statistics to match people based on their commonalities. What about the funny uncle lingering in the background? What if we wised up and asked the hard question on a first date? What if everyone you met for coffee brought along their crazy?
Would the algorithm for compatibility yield more accurate results if it factored in what makes us issue a warm welcome to the clowns in our closets? Would second dates hold more substance if we anted up our lack of a royal flush on the first? Well, maybe, maybe not. I don’t know shit; I’m not sure why you’re even reading this.
I recently told someone all women are crazy, it just manifests in individual ways, some good some bad. I believe it to be true, but I also believe all men are just as crazy. Women get a bad wrap in the dating arena; we are the more emotional sex. Men aren’t fighting their bodies most of their lives, struggling to calm the WTF that washes over us when life gets stressful at the same time the estrogen tsunami lays waste to our shoreline. But we all have some crazy clowns in our closets. How you rate the crazy of another depends on the freak hiding in your own shadow. *cue circus music*
Maybe you lose your shit when you’re stuck in traffic or perhaps you lack tolerance for others of a different religious persuasion, or maybe you just break down and simply cannot handle when there isn’t enough half and half for your second cup of coffee. I mean, who wants coffee with no half and half? I’ll bring down the house, find the damn car keys and roll to the grocery store in my pajamas for half and half if I’m shy of my standard three cups of properly lightened extra dark roast. Coffee should kick you in the throat, with a creamy smile. Crazy, right?
So why do we roll through life attempting to partner up for the long haul without throwing our crazy cards on the table? Do we believe we are perfectly delightful to live with and roll through life blissfully unaware of our inner nutjob? Does anyone around us ever call ‘clown’ when they get a peek at our freak?
We don’t ask about each other’s crazy and most of us don’t acknowledge our own. We want to know our potential partner’s favorite color and how they take their coffee. We both love kayaking, what could go wrong? Even if we go deeper, comparing lifestyles and future desires, we never want to look at what’s behind the curtain. The clowns don’t march out of the closet until the circus music starts to play and when you hear singing, it’s the relationship fat lady. *cue circus music again*
Maybe the idea isn’t to find the right partner. There is no ‘right’ partner unless you are referring to which hand they use to guide a pen. Maybe the idea is to find the partner that’s wrong in the right ways. We can find something in common with just about anyone, but how often do we find the Bozo to our Bongo? When the attraction is there, all we want to see is the highlight of the Big Show. Look past the lights of the big top, there’s a clown waiting in the wings. Whether it’s a Pennywise or a Bozo, it’s best to know before buying a season ticket to the circus. It would suck if the last date you go on ends up wearing your skin like a jacket.
In my family, we keep our crazy on display, and we don’t even charge admission. If you know me, you’ve already met it.
RunsWithScissors…trips all the damn time and has the scars to prove it