On Life Lessons

Sooner or later, every child comes to the point when they realize that their parents are not gods, that they are fallible. Parent make mistakes, they don't see everything that goes on, and they are not privy to all of the secrets of the universe.

This discovery is a little shattering whatever your age when it happens.

But what I've discovered is equally traumatizing is the day that I realized that books were not infallible.

I grew up learning from books that truth and honour would always win out in the end. Sometimes it was not the easy path, but it was worth it in the end. If feelings were hurt unintentionally along the way, it was okay, and all was forgiven. Who could truly have ill will towards someone who had your best interests in mind, even if slightly misguided?

It was a rude awakening when I was called on to be honest in my own life. I strove to be as fair and truthful as possible, but then the person accused me of "fucking her over." And she's has refused to speak to me since. I tried to help both of us, and all she saw was the end result. What's worse, though, is that people I've spoken to about the situation agree with her...

I was suddenly faced with the realization that the real world was too suspicious to recognise and appreciate honour.

Then there's love.

Oh, love.

I grew up reading about romantic love being a state when you couldn't sleep or eat for thinking of the other person. Where if you were meant to be together, you found a way. Where proving your love to someone was as simple as a sweet display of courtship or a tender gesture. And more importantly, if you were in love, you KNEW it. Because either you recognized it, or someone else would tell you so.

And so, I've always lived my life accordingly; by being direct and offering kind and courtly, though unmistakably romantic, gestures.

What books didn't prepare me for was for a distinct lack of intense passionate emotions or recognition of courtship! Gestures that are completely ignored or dismissed as being "not overtly sexual, and therefore not romantic". Or feelings about him that don't keep me awake or distract me from work, but that creep into my mind in the quiet times when the TV is off and my eyes are shut and my thoughts are calm....and then I wonder - Is that love? Because I have no idea.

Books made love and honour seem obvious and simple.

And what I'm finding now is that, like my parents, books don't have all the answers.

Trouble is, though, that old habits die hard, and I'll either end up losing my honourable head (metaphorically speaking) or spending my life as a spinster, ever waiting for a lad to ask if he can have this dance.