I’ve been casually rereading The Princess Bride and ran across this again. I can’t imagine ever being able to say it any more poetically.
“I love you,’ Buttercup said. ‘I know this must come as something of a surprise to you, since all I’ve ever done is scorn you and degrade you and taunt you, but I have loved you for several hours now, and every second, more. I thought an hour ago that I loved you more than any woman has ever loved a man, but a half hour after that I knew that what I felt before was nothing compared to what I felt then. But ten minutes after that, I understood that my previous love was a puddle compared to the high seas before a storm. Your eyes are like that, did you know? Well they are. How many minutes ago was I? Twenty? Had I brought my feelings up to then? It doesn’t matter.’ Buttercup still could not look at him. The sun was rising behind her now; she could feel the heat on her back, and it gave her courage. ‘I love you so much more now than twenty minutes ago that there cannot be comparison. I love you so much more now then when you opened your hovel door, there cannot be comparison. There is no room in my body for anything but you. My arms love you, my ears adore you, my knees shake with blind affection. My mind begs you to ask it something so it can obey. Do you want me to follow you for the rest of your days? I will do that. Do you want me to crawl? I will crawl. I will be quiet for you or sing for you, or if you are hungry, let me bring you food, or if you have thirst and nothing will quench it but Arabian wine, I will go to Araby, even though it is across the world, and bring a bottle back for your lunch. Anything there is that I can do for you, I will do for you; anything there is that I cannot do, I will learn to do. I know I cannot compete with the Countess in skills or wisdom or appeal, and I saw the way she looked at you. And I saw the way you looked at her. But remember, please, that she is old and has other interests, while I am seventeen and for me there is only you. Dearest Westley–I’ve never called you that before, have I?–Westley, Westley, Westley, Westley, Westley,–darling Westley, adored Westley, sweet perfect Westley, whisper that I have a chance to win your love.’ And with that, she dared the bravest thing she’d ever done; she looked right into his eyes.”
“You can talk about how much you wish things were different, or you can get off your ass and use your exercise clothes for something besides lounge wear.”
The things I tell myself to inspire exercise.
I’m asked on a fairly regular basis why I’m single. I laugh it off and tell people that I enjoy being a unicorn. I’m 29, in the South, never married and I’m nobody’s baby mama.
Sure I have a (very) few friends that are (at least publicly) happily married. I don’t begrudge them their married smugness, but even the happiest couples I know sometimes look at me with longing in their eyes as I discuss the latest episode of “The Nights of My Life”. I don’t pretend that the events that transpire between the hours of 8 p.m. and 3 a.m. are the axes by which the Earth turns, but for some reason my life seems to be a never ending source of entertainment for the masses.
I enjoy the freedom that my life has right now. It’s not just the going out, it’s the staying in, it’s knowing that I don’t have to cook if I don’t want to eat. I’m not worried about doing the laundry so somebody else has clean underwear to wear to work tomorrow. I don’t think that everybody who has succumbed to domestic bliss is wrong for doing so, it’s just not where I’m supposed to be right now. At some point I’m sure I’ll meet a guy and I’ll be excited about his ex-wife (and kids) and you may even get a phone call when I get a pesky stain out of a shirt, but it’s not happening any time soon, compadre. And why would I want to? Do you have any idea what’s out there for single women right now? That’s an entirely separate blog.
One day I’ll meet a guy without a popped collar, that indulges my Dallas Cowboys habit, is smart and has a sense of humor, goes with me to listen to live music, enjoys everything from indie rock to county, knows how to get me to stop talking when I’m nervous, makes an effort to hang out with my friends after I’ve spent time with his, likes to travel just for the sake of traveling and doesn’t get mad at me for planning vacations, helps me clean up after I cook, kills bugs for me, likes it when I sing, thinks it’s amazing that I want to go to Africa, isn’t completely afraid to dance in public, knows not to pour the coffee before it’s done brewing, can handle himself when he’s drinking, knows something about red wine, doesn’t beg me to sleep with him when I say no, will just lay in bed with me at night and read and would rather lay on a bed of needles rather than ever break my heart. Until then, I’m happy working on my life and not doing some other random guy’s laundry.
(Update: 3/11/12) In relocating all of these early blogs to this URL, it occurred to me that I’m one month shy of purchasing the album in question below, and I’m just as in love with his music now as I was then.)
I must say that his cd is amazing. I haven’t been able to stop listening to it since I got it in April. He was incredible live, and I can’t wait to see him in September at the Ryman. I will be the first in line to get tickets the day they go on sale. I’ve turned a quite a few people onto him after seeing him at Riverstages here in Nahsville. Everytime I hear him sing a portion of the lyrics from Wonderland (see footnote below) I get the chills. He makes spending Saturday cooped up in your office tolerable.
Generally, by Friday mornings I have resigned myself to the idea that I won’t actually make any significant headway with my work and that I am destined to spend every other Saturday there for all eternity. Every other Saturday, and the week preceding it, are punishment for the sin of talking myself out of working the Saturday and Sunday immediately preceding said week. It’s scaring me that I’m starting to talk like an attorney at times…”said week”?!?! Who says stuff like that? Anyway, back to my own personal hell…I will spend all weekend trying to get caught up, and will pray that, by the time I leave for Hawaii on Thursday, that it remains as such.
That’s right people, I said Hawaii…for seven days. And just so you will hate me more than you do already, let me tell you it’s free. I won’t go into boring details about how I got the trip, although it was through a friend of a friend. We are staying at an incredible resort, and I leave for Honolulu on Thursday. God help the people on the plane around me. 18 hours of me and Dr. Phil books. I’ll have everybody on the plane in therapy before we land.