Thursday, September 2, 2010
Rain on my Parade
Nothing like a couple of lovers to ruin a perfectly beautiful day.
The temperature is ideal--balmy with a slight cool breeze. I am sitting on a sturdy park bench, soaking up the dappled shade of the humongous tree overhead, and delving into a favorite book. It is so easy to imagine that the world holds nothing but promise, nothing but peace, nothing but pleasure. I am alone and thriving on the deep musings of my favorite theologian.
And then I see them enter my fuzzy peripheral vision.
I don't quite care about the intrusion at first. They are walking hand in hand, tripping over each other's feet and giggling under their breath. Then they sit down on the bench right across from me as if they mean to stay. The woman is a curvy tart in a red dress (startling cleavage) and the guy's heavily gelled hair positively screams "Look at me, shouldn't I be in the next issue of GQ?" But even that would be tolerable. If they'd just sit there on the bench, admiring the grass and commenting on songbirds, it would be just fine with me.
But are they content with that? No. They have to start kissing.
I know it's a free country. They have every right to slaver all over each other's necks if they want to. But do they have to do it here and now to blight my picturesque landscape? You'd think that they would like to do this sort of thing in private, away from the madding crowd as it were. But no, they seem just fine with a studious college girl gawking at them from across the gravel path.
Why does this bother me so much? Is it petty jealousy? I can't imagine that I'm as shallow as all that. Sure, I've never had a guy stick his nose in my ear before, but it doesn't exactly strike me as a pleasant sensation in the first place.
Perhaps it's because I'm just downright pessimistic. I can see Mr. GQ dumping this tart for an even smaller dress in a moment. I'm already seeing the day when Miss Cleavage gets a phone call, bursts into tears, and then goes to dinner with some other random guy the next week.
But maybe that isn't so.
Maybe I'm completely wrong about those two. What if they are actually falling in love, real love, lasting love? Maybe he got up this morning and gunked his hair up just for her. Maybe she put that dress on because it's his favorite color. Maybe they are going to Mary Kay to pick out matching rings right after they leave this park. Maybe, in the year 2070 they will still be together, sitting on a park bench, whispering sweet nothings to one another.
I can't concentrate, so I pick up my book and walk back down the path in search of a more secluded spot. I leave that funny little couple, still locked in a passionate embrace, and try once more to reverse my thinking. Try to think positively. Try to convince myself that this world does hold nothing but promise, nothing but peace, nothing but pleasure. If only for a moment.