When You Least Expect It
July 22, 2011 § 8 Comments
That’s another thing people always say to me. Always. “Don’t think about it and it will happen when you least expect it.”
They tell me that I’ll be waiting for a bus and suddenly some man will ask me the time and… Or I will be doing something completely unrelated to romance, some work thing or other, and Mr Right will suddenly become manifest like a creature in a movie. Or like happened to divorced Susie, she met someone at a party, an old friend she hadn’t seen for twenty years and he had never happened to get married and…tra la!…kaboom!… in love…they are now married and living happily ever after. I have heard a million stories of women – planktons! – who have found the loves of their lives when they were Least Expecting It.
The sad fuck of it is, I am never expecting it. I have been brainwashed by all these folk into giving up ever expecting it, and now I am Least Expecting it the whole bloody time and wherever I go. And still it never happens.
I know people are trying to be kind, but it’s a platitude, isn’t it? And one that is meant well but full of shit. It is like telling a woman who is trying to conceive and not managing to do so, not to think about it. What the fuck is that about? Of course, there is nothing else she can think of on earth that is so important and crucial and visceral. Don’t think about it, my arse. What kind of advice is that when her very breaths are in, preg, out, nant?
As I am sure I have said, I get on with my life and day to day I am busy and happy. Without wishing to overegg the pudding but at the same time very anxious not to appear ungrateful, I know I am blessed. Blessed with the most heavenly children on earth – at least I think they are – who just by their very being make me (embarrassing mother) want to hug and kiss them all day long and tell them how much I love them. My family is fractured and extended and imperfect and bonkers and bliss and infuriating and hilarious and I love it to bits. My life-long passion has been my friends. Because I love people and show it and mean it, I am very lucky in that I manage to make friends easily (I hope that doesn’t sound too arsey), and keep them and continue to love them. This is definitely going to sound arsey, but I really do have hundreds of friends and I mean the real type not the Facebook type (I am not on Facebook) who give me an inordinate amount of joy and support, and I hope I do them too. My work makes me feel jittery with pleasure a lot of the time, as if I have drunk too much coffee. I am lottery-winner lucky in what I do. I lead a life in which I get to hang out with those I love, read great books, eat fabulous food, sleep in the most comfortable bed in all England (who doesn’t think that about their bed?). It’s all Good.
And every minute of every day I promise you I am Least Expecting It. When I go to the café for my daily latte; when I am waiting for the bus; when I go to a small supper or some fuck off party; when I nip to the Post Office; when I step on a plane (not often); when I go to the school play; when I hit a festival; when I check into a hotel and sit in the bar (actually, I rarely go to hotels, or bars); when I go on a run or walk (I never do go on a walk, but if I were to go on one); or enter a lift in a swanky skyscraper (almost never); when I visit my lawyer in his City office (and might run into divorcing male clients but somehow never do); when I go to a wedding or funeral; when I attend a 50th; when I join friends at the movies/theatre/a restaurant; when I am taken to some event or give or listen to a talk; when I watch one of my children in a match; when I get mates round for coffee/lunch/tea/drinks/supper or to stay; when I interview someone I have never met; when I go to a meeting; or take off on holiday with friends; or visit others for the weekend in the country; when I linger in the yoghurts aisle reading nutrition labels; when I stop in front of a painting in a gallery; when I browse in a book shop; in fact whenever I step outside my front door, day or night, I am never not Least Expecting It.
And It still ain’t happening.
How can I Least Expect It any more than I already do?
Even if that is not to say, somewhere, deep inside me there miraculously remains still a smidgen, a molecule, an atom of hope.
Is that allowed, People with Platitudes, or should the Least Expecting It preclude even that?