But he also talked about his past relationships, and not knowing how to know when it's the Real Thing versus when you should bail in the hopes of the Grand Cinematic Passion.

Yeah. My thing in this regard is that I don't just want a relationship, I want a Love Story. I'm a romantic at heart, and I think about the meaning of life and so forth in terms of narratives, so it's natural for me to think of a relationship this way. I want to be able to tell my grandchildren stories about how we met, that make our story unique. (My grandkids are going to hate talking to me.)

Thing is, with Wallybee? I don't have that. Not really. We met because we both wanted a relationship, and were employing the same strategy to get there (online dating). There's been no thunderbolt, just a rather cautious process of getting to know each other, discovering that she's a person I admire and whose company I enjoy, and that my heart melts when I make her happy. (She calls me her penguin, by the way. I've told her that in that case, it should be an emperor penguin.) This isn't a relationship born of air and fire, it springs from earth and water.

And really, it's just as well. Because it all feels so right, and if it were this great romantic epic as well, I fear it would send everyone here off in a quest for their own Wallybee. And then where would we be? For there is no Wallybee but Wallybee, and billytea is her Penguin. Um. Gaze upon me, and despair!

I'm so sorry about all of this, Hec. I was really hoping (unrealistically, I know) that it would all turn out to be a big mistake. Well, it is a big mistake. It's theirs.

You look much cuter in your gauze than you led me to believe, vw. Not s much conehead as just brought into the hospital amnesia vistim on a soap.

What everyone else said. You are the best, vw. You even "look bad" good!

Thanks, everyone, for the wonderful birthday wishes! I'm off to (continue) celebrating!

I'm a romantic at heart, and I think about the meaning of life and so forth in terms of narratives, so it's natural for me to think of a relationship this way. I want to be able to tell my grandchildren stories about how we met, that make our story unique. (My grandkids are going to hate talking to me.)

Heh.

Hec, again, I'm so sorry. What an evil place.

Benefits end tomorrow night. I'll have JZ fax the term letter to EM so we can get Emmett switched over seamlessly. I've guess I've got some time to do COBRA if I want.

Can you get on JZ's benefits?

My thing in this regard is that I don't just want a relationship, I want a Love Story. I'm a romantic at heart,

I always wanted a Love Story. The big sweeping passion, Cathy and Heathcliff (yes, they were doomed, and not in the Wallybee/Penguin sense of dooooooooomed, but they were bigger than life and melodramatic and it was Le Grande Passion, etc.), the overwhelming lightning bolt of desire and This Is The One. I always wanted that.

....and then, one day, I didn't. Now, I don't mean passion*less*; not at all. But really? Cathy and Heathcliff were FUCKED UP and miserable. I think the kind of metaphorical fire than results from the metaphorical lightning bolt of desire is a forest fire that can rage out of control and then flicker out, having spent itself in the grand bonfire of Cinematic Love.

I think that love that starts the way they taught us to build a fire in Girl Scouts, with tinder and kindling, starting small and adding bigger fuel logs gradually when the fire is hot enough, is the kind of fire that ends up lasting.

(I just wrote all that schmoop and metaphor, and I'm not even drunk. I'ma blame the cold meds.)

My favorite quote about love is "Love is friendship caught fire." That's what I want.

This isn't a relationship born of air and fire, it springs from earth and water.

This. This is all I want.

I would want at least one shot at the Love Story passion, uh, I mean without my dying of leukemia, for all that the first line of my book is "What do you say about a 25 year old crip that died?"

I would want at least one shot at the Love Story passion, uh, I mean without my dying of leukemia, for all that the first line of my book is "What do you say about a 25 year old crip that died?"

I'm guessing "bummer" is insufficient.

Big sweeping love didn't work out for me. Silly, sweet love has.

Hec, I'm sorry about what happened. You will be better off in a new place. I've put it in writing.

And I'm finally going home to enjoy a 3 day weekend...

I still want a Love Story, but I think my idea of what that means has changed. Less drama, more soup and grilled cheese.

(eta missing "t"s. Is that ironic?)

That too, bt. But it would make a better candygram than a mystery.ETA: I didn't mean, like, a never-ending passion. But mine have always been friends I groped. I'm not sure I've ever been truly "in love".