we're all cynics and romantics. sometimes more of one than the other. but ultimately, we perch in the middle, in a precarious balance. and as cynical romantics, we have peculiar views on marriage. we want marriage to be a certain way. a way dictated to us by fairy tales, pop songs and wedding vows. carried on generation after generation on the wings of little girls. but most of us don't believe marriages can achieve such heights. or maybe we do think marriages can achieve such heights. but we're too afraid to jump. or too hesitant to fly. because we see the divorce rates. we see real life "marriages". we see the foundations of love cracking left and right. and we complain. bitterly. but we hope too.



and we all play the game. because marriage is the sport of choice for twenty somethings. but marriage is not basketball. it should be. but it's not. it is not constant fluidity and grace. it is not daring flights of imagination. it is not an ordered chaos of feelings, emotions and impromptu symphonies. marriage isn't even football. with it's forty five seconds of dead air punctuated by the clash of two immovable titans-- resulting in instantaneous success or failure.



marriage. i realized. is baseball. baseball is your turn. and then mine. baseball is endless marathon games. devoid of time limits. baseball is sleepy summer days. and the heady mix of bright sun and fresh grass. baseball is waiting in the dugout. for your turn to bat. and then trying to get on base. all four of them at once if possible. so yes, baseball is dating too. baseball is not played three times a week. or once on sunday. but every day. and sometimes. there are doubleheaders. baseball is about being in it for the long haul. for the beauty of the little details that go unnoticed except by those who engage in it. or understand it. baseball is marriage. but here's the thing. i hate baseball.



for the record. dating is like soccer. lots of running around. followed by little to no scoring