The Book of Love is Long and Boring and Written Very Long Ago. It's Full of Flowers and Heart-Shaped Boxes and Things We're All Too Young to Know.

I missed the new guy a little less today. It's like I'm living that "I love you more today than yesterday, but not as much as tomorrow" song in reverse. I talked to a mutual friend of ours today, one who has been saying since we first hooked up that we are too different to work, and it reinforced my belief that I made the right decision in cutting the new guy loose. The more I talk about him, the more I realize that the new guy bears a striking and unsettling similarity to my father. Both of them can be the nicest men you'd ever hope to meet when they're in the mood, but when they're not in the mood to be nice...look out.

Both are also prone to obsessions. The new guy loves exercise like he found Jesus on the elliptical machine, but I have a crisp dollar bill that says that if we checked in on him two years from now, he would be equally passionately invested in something else. My father, in my lifetime, has been deeply devoted to such varied pursuits as woodworking, guitar, harmonica, Tae Kwon Do and raising orchids. He was excellent at all of those things, but he lost interest. I think both the new guy and my father doubt themselves and don't like themselves very much, so they are looking for validation and fulfillment from the outside. They want to channel all of themselves into a hobby to distract themselves from dealing with themselves. And it's a shame because I think that, at heart, they're both wonderful men and I love both of them very much. It's not up to me to help them to see that though. That's their journey, and I have my own to follow.