standard - d.2- an authoritative criteria by which future encounters are judged; a model.
Post graduation, I knew I wanted to blog. With time available for creative writing, application apathy and interview indigestion were on the blog horizon. May 20th came and went without a single post. I couldn't write because I needed to recapture my fantasy edge, the ability to take everyday life interactions and creatively develop alternate existences or fashion an opinion that captures societal tendencies to foster responses and discussions. Week after week I found myself unable to find a stream of consciousness about anything. My business, recent graduation, media stories, nor colleagues seemed as focal as the prospect of solidarity.
Playing the field has rendered one miserable disaster after the other. Cheaters, stalkers, swindlers, and vengeful baby-mama drama are just some of the perilous encounters that have made me a stronger person, but damn near killed me. Why should I, an educated, self-aware, attractive professional be forced to follow P-Ditty's philosophy? Going through the pain to experience the joy is not a standard to bank, but a lackluster formula which, unfortunately, has been the tired way that I've discerned the good, bad and ugly.
When my ex, who I will refer to as K5, became my stalker, and then half of my vocabulary landed on plates in front of my dates, I grazed the perimeter of depression. After four years of this formula, I eventually shut down. I stopped dating (or "entertaining prospects" because I always provided the financial and physical means of dates and therefore never considered any outing a date) and started praying. My prayers weren't just for a boyfriend or a long-term resolution, but for the opportunity to experience something better than mediocrity or subservience.
For the sake of unabridged fairness to myself, I decided to try one final time. I jumped back into the encounter scene, and in a Craigslist instant, I had a week of amazing dates. My awesome week with TG, a handsome and kind technical genius was the creative catalyst that answered the call. To my surprise, I've experienced a dating standard, a criteria by which all future encounters will be judged. TG, my macchiato’d Mr. Opportunity boarded the 129 to our uncertainty on Friday. His destination: Maryland; his legacy: my realization that ignorant, uneducated, irresponsible, and cheap roughnecks are not all the East Coast has to offer.
That perfectly placed Sex in the City episode is always the icing on the cake. Carrie always recognized dialogue and actions of a moment, as light shining on internal wants and desires. I certainly noticed TG as chivalry in daily dosages, nobility in genteel narrative, and unyielding generosity. Despite his departure, I'm optimistic. I had the best week ever, and I now have, The Standard. All aboard!
From the hand of…
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