This is a story for the girls. Mainly because I think and hope that guys don’t indulge in silly mind movie fantasies like girls do. Don’t we all? It may just be me, but I sincerely hope not, because that would mean I am making a complete fool of myself here. I will take the risk and be it for the reason that tomorrow’s post will be written already and I can actually use my lunch break to by that spare tire instead.
I did something right tonight. Something very right and all my girlfriends will rejoice and hit me on the shoulder (you know like guys do when they tell their buddies they got laid). I spoke the truth once again. And this time it’s forever.
Here is the question now: Why do we rarely get the same emotional satisfaction from doing the right thing as we get from doing something stupid? Why is there almost never an instant gratification when we do something right? Sure we know that we are doing the right thing, but we are usually doing it with tears pouring down our face, feeling really, really kak. Of course later we see reason. Days, weeks or months will pass and we will say with a little knowledgeable smile: Well, I just knew I was doing the right thing.
Really? And that knowledge helped us through, right? Right? Bu-fucking-hu. No, of course it did not.
Because now I sit here and what do I want most in the world? After that beautiful moment of speaking the truth and doing the right thing…I want to be Cina-stupid-rella. Here is how the story would go:
· I hear a car fast approaching and coming to a screeching halt in front of my building.
· Close-up on him, jumping out of the car, barely slamming the door shut, running to my house and ringing the doorbell like there is no tomorrow.
· Then he runs up the stairs, me standing in the doorway.
· I look surprised, only a bit distressed (to make it more realistic), but still dramatically beautiful. The raccoon eyes of smudged mascara have magically turned into luminous smoky eyes. Which always helps to look dramatically beautiful.
· What does he want? Oh, of course he wants me and only me. Now and preferably forever. He has just realized what an idiot he has been all along.
· (And then I will be the idiot, only we won’t call it that, because it’s in my head and therefore perfect.) I will sink into his arms, kiss him and forgive and forget.
· Happily ever after can commence.
If the doorbell were to ring now we would make for a really tragic ending as I would have a heart attack. No such luck. Instead I get an SMS, which says: Sorry, talk again when you feel better about it.
Great. Life is just really great. But at least I can say I did the right thing tonight. Right?
A little update for all of you who care – I walked into the office this morning and my boss asked whether I had been naughty again (Meee? Naughty? Never!). Obviously I had been quite the opposite of naughty, but she said I had a twinkle in my eyes. This is what I’m talking about – instant gratification.