"This is why am going to be 50 and alone with cats." I said.
"Um, what." I think that statement was odd enough to rip him out of whatever escapist fantasy he had transported him away for the minutes I stared intently at the canvas.
I tried to explain my sarcastic comment to him but I don't think he fully understood what I meant when I said that I could be fine with a guy who didn't get art as long as they were interested in it or at least interested in why I do.
You see for me, it is not enough for a guy to be interesting. He has to be interested in more than but including himself. In the world. In the future. In the past in the here and now, which in this case was an art gallery far away from sports and cars and beer bongs.
We use the expression to be interested so flippantly.
Interest - to be interested - it has such rich connotations when we look past the surface to the broader scope of human existence.
It isn't enough for someone to like me, to find me attractive or nice. A nice girl is just surface. 'Nice' is just surface I want to know ore about what makes people tick and I expect - perhaps wrongly - for others to want to do the same.
When I was a kid and guests would sit round our dinner table, my father would always pose the question, "If you had to choose between world peace or music, which would you choose?"
For me, there is only one right answer and this, this of all things is my deal-breaker.
So bring on your short, atheist, mama-lovin', co-dependent, man-whores. But give them a perspective. Give them curiosity and make them interested enough to give a damn. Everything else is negotiable.
Maybe.
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