Over the past few months, friends of mine have been telling me that I have “choices” now.
“Fine,” I’d say, “I choose a 1970 Dodge Charger, infinity money, and to hold the world record for fastest labyrinth-solving. Plus the emotional maturity of, at least, an eleven-year-old.”
But, I get it — what my friends truly mean: I now have the choice to make decisions based on what I genuinely want in life, not based on where I can find the cheapest alcohol specials and women with the lowest possible standards. (Sappho’s on Charles St.)
One friend asked, “What do you want in a relationship?”
I scratched my beard, contemplating. Then I shoved him aside and said, “Respect and a lot of laughter.”
I was surprised by my instantaneous sincerity.
“Then make a list. A serious list,” my friend said. “Write down all the qualities you’d like in a partner. You may even be surprised by what you come up with.”
So that’s what I’m going to do. I’m going to make a list.