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Tatvadnyan

Thoughts on life, as we weave our way through it.

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Monday, September 27, 2010

Spouses

i cant sleep so i've come up with a theory. There are 4 types of spouses:
1) Compromises
2) Bad
3) Sexy/Romantic
4) Friends

Compromises are the ones you marry because you don't have any other choice. Basically you decide you are better off spoiling two lives instead of one, and you strike a compromise. Forever. Its a gamble that can evolve into Spouse type #2, #3, #4 or eternal boredom. Bad spouses don't need any further clarification.

That brings us to the interesting ones- the sexy / romantic ones. The ones that make the heart go 'Ding'. The ones that make you crave for them. The ones for whom you would ..er..  you get the idea. Trouble is, unless the 'Ding'ing is mutual, the 'Ding'ed is at the mercy of the 'Ding'er. As with any relationship, the more one person gets to know how much the other adores them, the more the one who adores becomes the object of contempt and neglect for the other. The one being adored knows they have the other by the proverbial chain. So those feeling the 'Ding', ask yourself if you hear an echo. If not, you need to look out for more sonorous hearts to bounce against.

So finally we come to the "Friends". These are the ones who will hold your hand tenderly and give you a shoulder to cry on. They are the ones you know you want to be around when you can only see fingers when they are waved no farther than 5 inches away from your face. They are also the most boring ones. They won't set your passions on fire. No ding-ing around them - its more of a faint, silvery chime.

So there you have it. the four types. Its pretty much guaranteed that with #1 & #2, you were better off on your own. With #3 and #4, its interesting. You will want one, and a week later you will wish you had the other - especially when your friend has the other type. The staid back type is an eternal wuss in comparison to the dashing damsel, until of-course you hit a bump on the road - that's when the boring friend is a comfort while the dashing one has labeled you a wet blanket. But no sooner is the crisis gone, than you wish the arms you nestled in belonged to the dashing one. Thus begins the endless list of "I wish you were..." and "Why cant you be..." and thus goes the seesaw of attempted conversions ..   until one day, you can't see 5 inches ahead.

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