August 24, 2015 by phicks2012
I was having a conversation the other day with a friend, and we got onto the subject of “chemistry” and why some people select partners who seem (to us at least) to be totally improbable, completely unloveable, and utterly without redeeming social value. Women will fall for deadbeat “players” without a positive trait to recommend them, and men will fall for “mean girls” or women without a functional brain cell. Why?
I’ve had female friends who hooked up with men I couldn’t have shared an entire circus tent with without wanting to throttle them, toss their body down a well, and write them out of history. I’ve had male friends who fell for women whose own parents probably should have smothered them at birth. Why?
Don’t get me wrong. I’ve undoubtedly had relationships with men who — in retrospect — were not exactly winners. We all make mistakes, but sometimes I look at the significant others some other human beings have selected and figure I’d probably chew my own foot off to get away from that person. I tell myself “They surely have to have SOMEthing going for them, or their partner would never have picked them”, but no matter how hard I look I still want to run screaming for the hills after being in the same room with them for only a few minutes.
Sometimes, even when I can spot a few marginally good qualities, I still cannot imagine being tied for life — actually for more than 10 minutes — to some of these folks without needing either intensive therapy or a kick-ass defense attorney to get me off of murder charges.
So this bit of doggerel below is dedicated to those unlikely pairings everywhere, for what it’s worth.
“Matches Made in Chaos”
Every heart makes its choices, for better or worse, and we hope they chose wisely and well.
But each match made in Heaven does have its reverse, corresponding to one made in Hell.
She declares that she loves him, but no one knows why, for he lacks any laudable trait.
Neither handsome, nor brilliant, nor funny, nor spry, nor successful; An unlikely mate.
When he thinks to be funny he only annoys, and he has no idea when to quit,
Or asks personal questions no one can enjoy, thinking he is a fountain of wit.
He will not hold a job, but has profiligate tastes, and to women he thinks he’s God’s gift,
Or his notion of time is how much he can waste, and he drains every mug he can lift.
He declares that he loves her, but no one can say why a man of intelligence might.
She is shallow and vain and no thought can convey, without churlishness, malice and spite.
She believes herself worthy of worhip, and sees every man as her vulnerable prey;
She has no use for women; no fancy to please anyone who won’t give her her way.
Or she lacks any semblance of logical thought, and has only a trace of a brain,
Or she counts her successes by what she has bought, counting coup for what she can obtain.
There are too many reasons to wonder in awe at what lovers will choose in a mate.
How they can overlook every failing and flaw in a longing to cohabitate.
So it seems we must settle for wondering why, for we never will quite understand,
What some folk find seductive, why dolts can arise, and why deadbeats are so in demand.
We can only be wise in what we ourselves choose, for we cannot to others dictate,
How to rule what their hearts take, and what they refuse to accept, come the urging to mate.
[05 August 2015]