Summer's lazy, hazy crazy days
For some reason, that song makes me think of childhood dining at Shakey's Pizza, which apparently still exists in some parts of the country. I've no idea how that association was formed. Maybe Shakey's had a radio commercial jingle that sounded like it, or something.

The pool at the neighboring apartment complex opened today. I can tell, because the sound of what must be a hundred happy, splashing kids is traveling through my open window. It's almost like a cut out of a stock sound effects library. Cue happy, splashing kids.

I just returned from a walk over to the Hall of Fame, which for the rest of the world is the shrine of basketball, but for me is where Uno's is. Well, actually, it's right next door, but they share a parking lot. And the idea of going to our hometown mecca of sports just to eat pizza is really quite funny.

It's a nice day, and I'm bent on enjoying it with the heightened senses of someone who is experiencing the reawakening of loving feelings. A place where sounds of laughter are welcome, pizza tastes better, and the sun's valiant attempts to penetrate this persistent cloud cover do not go unnoticed.

Some of you have, very gently, suggested the news I posted on Monday is predicated on something incredibly flimsy and premature. It tempts me to feel defensive, like a teenager whining to a critical parent about someone they'd rather you didn't date. And I'm not sure I have a lot of time or patience for that, but I must address it.

It's hard for any deep thinking person to accept that love can happen between people who don't yet know each other all that well. I'm no different. I don't want to see the term misused, either. Call it anything you wish, anything but love, because love's never instant.

It's easy to subscribe to those beliefs, until you get blown off your feet yourself. Then you're kept busy trying to explain how you're different from everybody else. And I knew what I'd be in for when I started talking to other people about this.

One e-mailer, poignantly, made an association between this post and that one, and suggested I'm on some sort of manic coaster ride. Dude, you're just now figuring that out??!!

For me, there's a delicious irony in noting the same person who would fearlessly predict my MMPI results for me, a person unknown to him but for an assemblage of electrons on his monitor, is making the point that I can't possibly have full-blown feelings for a woman I was introduced to in the same way.

Besides, chief, you missed the point of the "obsessions" thread entirely. Maybe you should have taken a 200-level psychology class as well.

(I would be remiss to overlook that I got an extremely uplifting and positive letter as well. Can you imagine? So much so, I've asked for and am awaiting the writer's permission to post it in full.)

I know, because this romance was born of the internet and has not yet quite been actualized (there's some legitimate circumstances there, and I'll get to those another day), it has to wear a negative association, that taint of illegitimacy. Others aren't going to take this in as wholeheartedly as I would perhaps wish them to.

Two points I want to make before I'm done with this.

I want to assure everyone I know what I'm doing. Give me at least a little credit, willya, for being a mature, headstrong, and at times worldly person who makes a living in journalism (where interviewing, fact-checking skills and research tools occasionally come into play)? I wouldn't be so egotistical as to suggest I'm smarter than you, but I know I'm smarter than many, And I'm positive that the "woman of my dreams" isn't really a man in a trailer in Nevada, all right?

And I want everyone to know that I'm willing to take a certain risk, as regards real-world chemistry and commitment issues yet to be experienced. That might offend the sensibilities of some of you, and I respect that. I know it's essential, but the order in which such things can be revealed isn't always linear, or convenient. I don't necessarily have a problem with that.

By the way, how in the world did people fall in love at long distances (and successfully consummated far, far more than anything I've suggested at present) before the internet, or even before the telephone? Maybe it's not how you would go about your own affairs, but please don't suggest it's impossible.

I'm happy. If you're so inclined, be happy for me. And if you're secretly hoping I fall on my ass to prove a point, that's fine, too. Maybe we'll all learn something from my pending experiences. 1:50:24 PM    comment []trackback []