Faute de Mieux and A Really Cool Exit

Faute de Mieux
Current mood: adored


Romance and relationships can conjour blissful, euphoric imagery or bitter reminders of the choices you must make every day. The choices you make and the choices you are forced to make because there is nothing else to choose are what I mean by "Faute de Mieux."

I'd rather have a lemon ice but there is only a "Cup of Noodles" under the small, brown refridgerator on the microwave cart. I'm too fried from my recent family vacation to journey all the way across the room to the full size refridgerator in the kitchen.

If you close your eyes and imagine chubby, fertile hens chasing a virile rooster around the chicken coop the cup of noodles chicken flavor can actually taste like chicken. It also can taste like frog's legs broth if you flick the noodles into the trash and add two year old seasoning salt. This particular soup epiphany enlightens me on the peculiar course of one of my more recent romantic relationships.

I would rather fill the heavy, lead crystal bowl sitting in my bookcase with fragrant, dewy, white Camillias but I can't find Camillias in New York City. I can find tiny white tealights on the shelves of the 99 cent stores nestled between the dusty, little mini-marts called bodegas and dreary laundrymats operating without the benefit of ancient Chinese cleaning secrets that line the streets of the boroughs of the city.

The crystal bowl is filled to the brim with tiny, white tealights because I followed the scent of Serendipity and that is all I could find. Serendipity can be a friend or a foe. What the hell is Serendipity so fucking happy about anyway?

I would love to spend the evening's hours huddled in a gossip circle with cherished friends or canoodling with that special person while engaging in a mischievous tete-a-tete.

The two hundred and fifty nine emails looming in my sterile inbox will get my undivided attention instead. I might get lucky and someone cute might IM me on myspace. That would have to be slightly more fulfilling than the spiritually void formlessness of email or maybe not.

I would have rather seen Hillary in the White House but I will be clapping wildly and appropriately thrilled when one of those other guys stands in front of the White House.