August 26, 2008

Second Time's (Still) Not a Charm

Nary three weeks after announcing the continuation of my much-touted romantic quest (to ruin my life), and hardly a year after finding—and losing—a potential soulmate, I once again found myself on a flight, this time from Orange County, Calif., to Chicago, Ill., seated next to an (attractive) woman and engrossed in conversation. As the flight lifted off, and as the brief initial exchange with the passenger in the window seat gave way to a conversation interesting enough such that I was persuaded to put down the (obviously pretentious) book in my hand, my thoughts immediately turned to that fateful trip last year and the opportunity I had let pass me by. Determined not to let the pitch sail by yet again, I steadied myself for the swing. The second time would be the charm, I assured myself.

Alas, if only it were so. Unfortunately, as much as I would like to report to you, dear readers, that my second foray into meeting potential soulmates on airplanes was more successful than my first, I cannot. This is, after all, the Realm, a place of little happiness and less success, a place where there are no happy endings, only soul-crushing disappointments and heart-wrenching failures.

I am happy (insofar as that is possible) to report, however, that this failure, unlike the long list of those in the past that follow virtually every encounter I have with attractive women, had less to do with me and more to do with fortune—or the lack thereof. Things had started off well. After exchanging dirty looks over the awful little kid in front of us who seemed to cry at the drop of a hat, talk quickly moved from the vapid (e.g., why I was wearing a suit (interview), what I did (law school), what she did (accounting—diversification! Value add!)), to the philosophical and abstruse. Hour after hour elapsed, though it was as though time was standing still for me; I was increasingly mesmerized. Before I knew it, the captain was announcing our initial descent, and shortly thereafter, we were on the ground at O'Hare.

The moment of truth. Not hesitating, I swung for the fences. So, do you live in Chicago? Would you like to meet up at some point? Pretty strong words for my usual ambivalent and disinterested self, but then, I was feeling pretty good about my chances. Pride always comes before fall.¹

Her reply was the type of anticlimax that would make for a great scene in a (thoroughly depressing) comedy. I would love to, but I'm actually not going to Chicago. I'm catching a connecting flight to London at O'Hare tonight. Maybe when you're back in OC though? I laughed. I did not want to, but how could I not? The irony was too great. So much for swinging for the fences, right? Perhaps, I replied, knowing it was not to be.

At that point, the little girl in front of us started bawling loudly, no doubt because she could not unbuckle her seat belt (or something equally preposterous). I sort of knew how she felt.²

Another attractive woman, another catastrophic failure, another devastating tale of inadequacy and disappointment for the Realm. At least, maybe this one goes down in the books as a sacrifice fly (maybe fielder's choice?) rather than a strike out.³ The key is to find a silver lining. It keeps the darkness at bay.

^ ¹ One could cite Proverbs 16:18 for this sentiment, but I prefer Chaucer, The Canterbury Tales, specifically the Nun's Priest's Tale. The wannabe English minor in me lives on.
^ ² Or not. I really wish I did not enjoy the irony of my own failures as much as I do.
^ ³ You know things are bad when I use a extended sports metaphor. What the hell? Maybe it is because football season is about to start. You know, because that obviously explains the baseball references.