No love, actually

So here’s a subject that may be a bit cliché— love.

I got a phone call late one evening from one of my good friendsfrom high school. She told me she had some news — good news.I was thinking along the lines of a new car or a new boyfriend. Iwasn’t even close.

“I’m engaged,” she said. Geez ‘n’peas almighty. Well ain’t that one Texas-sized whopper! Myinitial instincts were to say, “I’m sorry,” but Istopped myself and bid her congratulations.

I finally saw the guy and the rock. I approved of both.

Being engaged is far from penny stocks and beyond mutual funds.When you get engaged, you no longer own stocks in that company. Youbecome part owner of it, which means that when the company goesdown, you go straight down with it.

And what’s worse than that is being married.

I sat down and started to ponder the whole marriage thing, and Icame upon a decision still pending. Two words: trophy husband. Hewould be a non-returnable accessory.

In a way, the husband would be very cost-effective. He would belike that purse that goes with everything. Instead of going out andbuying an accessory every time I have an event to attend, I canreuse that one purse.

Ah yes, a trophy husband. I like that idea. But I guess you canonly look at a pretty face for so long. In due time, you’regoing to have to start hearing stuff that comes out of it.

Somewhere, I heard the expression “Love is being stupidtogether.” Maybe so. If that’s the case, then I guessloneliness is being stupid all on your own. At least whenyou’re in love, you have someone there to share in theall-around stupidity.

If I find someone who will love me for all the things that I am,who looks at my flaws and sees them as perfections, who looks at methe way no one else does, then love really is meant for me. But ifI can find someone who will take me in out of pity, then I’llconsider myself lucky.

I haven’t yet made the last ditch resort to get hitched.In other words, I haven’t made the pact with a friend to getmarried if we find ourselves still single by a certain age. I hopeI never have to. One thing is for sure — I’ll onlymarry once. Unless, of course, it’s a marriage à laBritney Spears. Then I guess I’ll marry again.

Marriage is a short-lived chapter in my family’s story,while divorce runs rampant. It seems to be a growing trend. Lord, Ijust hope I get it right the first time. Chances are, Iwon’t, because I’ve come to think that failed marriageis hereditary, along with insanity and brown eyes. A brown-eyed,lonely nutcase. Great, just great.

I’ve learned that love is never easy. Maroon 5, inSongs About Jane, tells us that “It’s not alwaysrainbows and butterflies — it’s compromise.”Great album, by the way. Unfortunately, I learned that the hardway, which involved my heart and a dog peeing on it. If someone hadtold me that this was love, I would’ve walked away laughing.I would’ve spared myself the work that it takes to deal withthe complexities if it all.

Then again, anything worth doing is going to take some work.Otherwise, if it’s too easy, it’s not worth doing atall, kind of like a class that’s so easy that it becomes awaste of your time.

Several generations of miserable divorcees in my family, yetsomehow, I still believe that two people can be perfect for eachother for the rest of their lives. So congratulations, Ashley andBrandon. You are perfect for each other.

Whoa! Was that optimism? I’m sorry. I won’t do itagain.

Ann Truong is a senior math and engineering double major. Shemay be contacted at [email protected].