I don’t believe in god or reincarnation, which eliminates any hope of an afterlife. Basically that gives me the time I have right now to do what I need and want to do, which makes “time” one of the most valuable things to possess, right up there with good health and true love.
And so there you are, in your teens, waiting for your date, uncomfortably trying to make small talk with her parents while they silently judge your every move and mannerism. She saunters in about fifteen minutes late looking great, just fantastic. Possibilities of what may happen later come to mind and suddenly her tardiness is in the distant past. You’re thinking about the future and God willing, it contains you and her together. Now jump cut ahead several years. Life has been good to you. You’re in a serious relationship with her, madly in love.
Chances are good you’re still waiting for her to get ready. Sometimes it’s only a few minutes but others it’s closer to an hour. Now when she finally saunters in you barely look at her, you just want to get going. You’ve got your coat and hers and the car keys and you’re already on your way out the door. Of course you wind up arguing about it but nothing changes. It’s been this way from the beginning and will probably stay this way until you die.
Now jump ahead twenty years. That girl is ten years gone and you’ve had several relationships since then. Some were late but others were punctual. You’ve grown to appreciate that women can indeed get ready on a schedule, that it’s not a symptom of the gender.
You’re married now with kids of your own, waiting in the kitchen or hallway, keys in hand, children ready to go but growing very restless. But your wife is M.I.A. You scream up to her. She screams back. She’ll be right down. You don’t even wait. You take the kids and head out to the car before they get really crazy and start taking off their clothes. You belt everyone in, pull the car out, and wait by the door. She comes out and jumps in the car and asks you how she looks. The things that run through your mind should never be said in front of your children or to your loving wife.
You think to yourself, who cares how you look. For the time it took you to get ready you should look like a Victoria Secret supermodel. I no longer care how you look. I just want to leave. And besides, I don’t think I’m qualified to make that kind of decision, especially right now. Two seconds of gazing at you after waiting and juggling children for an hour will probably not produce the kind of response you’re hoping to get.
I’ve had my wife come downstairs ready to go, looking absolutely fantastic, stunning even, like “I have to have you this second” hot. But after making me wait for her that long I couldn’t even tell her how amazing she looked. I was so pissed off, knowing that we would be late, again, that my response was completely stifled. And it wasn’t intentional. My mind went wow but my mouth never said a thing because my mind immediately shifted to all the time I had just lost. Now if we were to revisit that scenario but have her arrive on time or dare I say it, early, then we are talking a whole new ballgame. In this scenario I can take the time to enjoy checking her out. Without the anger seething below I can articulate the wonderful things that are going on in my brain and in my pants.
Know this, being punctual might not make you sexier but I believe you’ll feel sexier because your spouse we’ll be able, no, they’ll be glad to tell you just how amazing you look and how happy he is to have such a beautiful and thoughtful wife. Seriously, wouldn’t it be nice to have an adoring if not lustful look on his face when you appear as opposed to the usual “it’s about damn time” expression as he hustles you out the door?
Greg Loudon is a professional illustrator who started writing fifteen years ago to nurture his creative soul and to keep from putting a gun in his mouth after years of soul sucking advertising boredom. He’s just finished his first book, “Why Men Cheat”, and is in the process of writing his third screenplay. He recently wrote the story for the winning 2012 Chicago entry in the 48hour Film Project. Contrary to most things you’ll read of his, he is a happily married man with three children, two dogs and a cat.
You can read Greg’s blog at gregloudon.com