Late Bloomer

If I'm lucky, I will live a long healthy life. I need the time because I arrive at the best things years after everyone else has been there, done that, and long since given away the t-shirt. I arrived at blogging after it peaked, I'll probably rejoin twitter soon just to stay behind the curve, I've not been in a grown up relationship just yet but still rocking the high school crushes like it's 1999; though I was long out of high school by then, sadly my love life was/is not. Motherhood, if it comes at all, will probably make the record books at least for whatever town I live in at the time. I have thought as recently as yesterday that it wouldn't be so bad if I had a short life either because the future could just be a long wash, rinse, repeat of what I've got going on right now and I'm already largely over it. If soul twin locks it down with someone, I will be on the periphery of every important relationship in my life and I've frankly had my fill of three wheeling and of one of the two wheels telling me I need to get over being a third.

I do wonder though sometimes. Really? I'm that bad at connecting with men or rising to a person of interest? I connect with homeless guys on the regular. What's the magic I'm working there and with other random people I don't invite into my life? I was walking in the mall a week or so ago and made passing eye contact with a guy who turned around, grabbed my arm, hugged me, held my hand, and asked if he could go home with me before I could even process what was happening. I told him I didn't know him, asked who he was, and all he had to say to me was 'can I go home with you?' When I said no, he politely kissed my hand and walked away. Seriously, eye contact can not possibly explain that can it? I make eye contact and even say hello to the various cute men of the neighborhood and most don't even return my greeting. Why only the crazies and the homeless Lord? Why are they dialed into my station and the rest of universe is only aware of my existence enough to avoid running into me on the sidewalk?

I was sitting in the window of a frozen yogurt place last week. I was people watching and occasionally the favor was returned with a 'I noticed you glance.' Then this white girl came in and she was right out of a classic (white) American beauty J Crew catalogue. Casual but well put together and seemingly crisp in the wilting heat. She ruined everything. I had been happily imagining myself as a cute girl having yogurt in the storefront window and this chick showed up and I got to watch 8/10ths of the men who walked by do double takes at her. Now I was just a chubby chick with crazy hair eating next to a pretty girl. I left in a foul mood. As I walked up the street sweaty and wilted with crazy hair, I again made eye contact from across a street with a likely homeless man. I didn't look at him again hoping to get past him when I crossed the street without being hit up for money or a strange and aimless conversation. Didn't work. He yelled at me as I walked past, not making eye contact, that he liked my hair. Jesus. Really? I told him thank you and kept walking while I'm sure people thought, yea, you've got to be crazy to like that hair buddy.

Maybe I hope now for a short life with good stories. Less time alone, more assumed potential had I lived instead of the 'wow, made it all the way to 90 without ever having a significant other or doing or being anything different that you were at 35, 25, even 15.' Yea, I'm liking that; good stories that will remain novelties because they can't be repeated and scores of great things that could have been had I lived longer.