the cycle continues, 05-23-04
It’s funny how some aspects of childhood are universal. The cute, childish misunderstandings of the adult world; the strange and fickle alliances; the games kids play.
It’s even funnier how little things change once we become adults.
I’m put in mind of the game that everyone has played at the doctor’s office, or the supermarket, or the department store, or school. The shiny floor tiles (or, for variety, hard-wearing carpet) are arranged in a pattern of at least two colors. One color is safe, but touching the other means you’re out. It doesn’t matter if the “out” color is deadly lava, a bottomless ocean, quicksand, or if it hasn’t even been incorporated into a real-world framework at all… the game is universal. Your parents played it. You played it. I know that I certainly played it. We all hopped across these floors, sometimes on one foot like hopscotch, leaping through the air with arms outstretched, toes pointed, hoping to land on that safe spot just beyond.
The dating game feels much like this to me. Only the tiles all look the same so I can’t be sure where the “out” tiles are. On the flip side, I am all too aware of the imminent death they imply.
It’s too easy to stand still. You don’t advance, but at least you’re not out of the game. You reach out your toes and test a few tiles, but that’s not enough to judge if they’re safe footholds or not. In the end, you’re playing blind, and it’s just far too easy to stay exactly where you are.
