Rock-tober 19, 2023

I really dislike reality shows. Putting people into an artificially contrived situation, subjecting participants to stressful conditions, playing up personality conflicts, and all the while rolling cameras in the hopes of capturing something juicy is banal broadcasting at its worst.

Andrea, however, apparently loves them. These shows take zero mental effort so for her, they're a perfect way to unwind after a day of fighting dragons. Sadly, they're just not my way to unwind, and for me, just being in the same room as the TV when they're playing has some unfortunate side effects. I'm constantly annoyed at the inane cattiness pouring out of the Housewives franchise, the self-absorbed rudeness of the Sharks on Shark Tank pisses me off, and DO. NOT. GET. ME. STARTED. on Sister Wives. Kody, my dude, you are a first-rate, government-inspected, Grade-A dumbass.

I walked into the room recently and Andrea was tuned in to yet another reality series. The premise of this one was basically a dating show with a mix of couples who've never met and don't actually see each other over the course of the episodes. All couples are separated by a screen during their "dates". The end goal, of course, is to walk out engaged. If this is what the dating scene has come to, I'm glad I'm not in it. Attempting to form a lifelong bond with a stranger over a half dozen "blind" dates does not seem to be a valid success vector.

And some of these guys were just trying too damn hard.

Guy: "I wrote you a poem."

Girl: "Awwww." 

Me: "Pffft. Lame."

After that episode, I remembered something. Andrea has a box with some of her most cherished keepsakes. Among the contents were some childhood mementos, some of our early correspondence, her handwritten list of qualities she wanted in a man (I don't think I made half of them), and a book of poetry. Specifically a book of love poems. By Keats.

I have a memory from early in our dating life of my head in her lap as she read me passages from that book.

Dammit.

"Ummm. Hey, Andrea, does it bother you that I don't write you poetry?"

"What?! No. You've written a lot of things to me." My memory was a little hazy.

"Was any of it poetry?"

"Umm. No. *snicker* I don't believe any of it rhymed."

"Oh. Did you want rhymes?"

"Nope. Not necessary."

"Because I can dust off the old quill and make an attempt."

"No. It's REALLY not necessary..."

"THERE ONCE WAS A LADY FROM NANTUCKET...."

I've made several attempts at learning this on the piano. Maybe it'll be a good substitute for a heartwarming limerick.

Journey - Open Arms