Today’s Daily Post prompt: “Tell us your funniest relationship disaster story.”
You might think I am going to talk about some third rate romantic escapade, some titillating romp with a partner. Well, I will — in a way.
You see, I have this “on-again-off-again” romance with writing, arting, and photographing.
Right now, I totally hate my journal and my paints and my camera. They all sit there mocking me, telling me that I have been a neglectful, unfaithful lover. They confront me with allegations that I have been two-timing them — er, rather, “three-timing” them. They say I would rather paint than write, journal with a pen rather than with a camera. All three accuse me of being some tart who likes to flirt with other past-times like bill-paying work, social media, entertainment, books, and, the most appalling: with REAL PEOPLE.
They would be correct. I have been. I am remorseful. I have failed them all.
So here is what I propose: I am on my winter holiday break for the next three weeks and I vow to engage with one of my lovers each day during this period. Behavior experts say that habits are made or broken in about three weeks. My hope is that by the end of this period, I will be back on track and not stray again from their loving embrace. I may even settle on one of them and enter into a “forever” relationship.
We will see. Something may arise to derail this plan. I may fall in love with skydiving, rock-climbing or gourmet Nepalese cooking.
I am not to be trusted.