Vintages

In wine there are vintages that are outstanding, and there are vintages that are horrid. 1959 was a top notch year. 1972, not so much.

Last night my mother mentioned to me that I have issues with commitment. Really? me? I fully admit that I do. Jobs, men, homes, cities. I'm constantly looking over the fence to see if the grass is greener (usually it is by the way). But, there have been exceptions and I have often committed heart and soul to one person or idea or situation and have ridden it out to the end, sometimes even longer.

I began to think back on past relationships, ones I've been fully committed to, others I was in until something better rolled along (I know I know, this was a long time ago though, mostly). In my thinking I started to realize a common theme. I would be with a perfectly *nice* guy, then dump him for one who was a bit more exciting, one who was cheating on his girlfriend, or had a drinking problem, or had an accent, or a motorcycle. You know, bad boys. These are the men I fully committed myself to, and these are the men who in turn broke my heart.

All these men have one thing in common. They were all born in 1969. Can there be 'off' vintages of people?

I know a lot of people who were born in 1969, men and women. This is a byproduct of moving so much. Exactly two of them are married. One of them is happily married. One of them has children. Rarely are they satisfied with their careers. Only a couple of them own homes. Most of them are still single, like to buy toys and travel. Not that there is anything wrong with that lifestyle. It's a perfectly valid way to live. Expecting them to love you forever? Snort. Wrong vintage for that.

Better off with a nice, subtle, subdued '62 or something.