THE RIGHT ONE. WHERE DO THEY HIDE?

Men and women share at least one thing in common:

They all want to find The Right One.

Who to be with, where to live, what kind of job?

The easy answers are, the right one, the right place, and right work.

The hard part is deciding the order. Start with The Right One.

Keep in mind where I’m coming from so you won’t feel lost and alone.

I got married at age thirty-one, later in the game than many.

I’m still married to the same person in 2024. You do the math.

How didn’t I get married in high school? My girlfriend got married the day before graduation, just not to me.

We still walked the walk together. That was the plan since we first dated sophomore year.

I knew her from sixth grade. She was a good girl then, and has been ever since if we go by Facebook.

And I do.

I wasn’t the right one for her, but the other guy was? Since that’s how it worked out, I’d say yes.

But I wasn’t done being the wrong one that night when the police shined a light in the car window and interrupted a couple of recent high school graduates busy planning their near future before going into the graduation dance.

In addition, I wasn’t the right one the following year living in the college dorms.

 

Me: What are you doing tonight?

College Girl: There’s a class in the meeting room about birth control.

Me: Birth control? What do you think they’ll have to say?

CG: Come over to my room at nine and find out.

Me: I have an early class.

 

I wasn’t the right one in the Army.

 

Army Girl: Want to take a walk?

Me: I like taking walks.

AG: I know a nice place by a golf course.

Me: Golf course? Have I told you about my handicap?

 

And to wrap things up, I wasn’t the right one after the Army, either.

 

Woman: If we live together we need to make plans.

Me: Right, like living together. Isn’t that the plan?

Woman: I want more than that.

Me: So we’ll find an apartment big enough.

 

How Wrong Turns Right

If you ask me, the best stories are origin stories.

Being the right one needs a good origin story to fall back on when things go wrong.

I met a new guy in my NW Portland neighborhood.

He introduced me to his girlfriend.

(Never introduce a guy you just met to your girlfriend.)

She eventually became my girlfriend, but I had to fist fight the other guy first.

I lost, but I lost the right way.

If I had pounded him like he deserved, his old girlfriend would have nurtured him.

How do I know that? I’m not sure, but my first impulse was to kick his ass.

My ‘I’m the one’ instinct said, ‘No, don’t make him a bloody figure of sympathy; don’t let the girl see the beast- mode of violence.’

So I took his best shots like an MMA fighter luring him into the final showdown.

Rocky Marciano said you have to take a few punches to get in close enough to land the final blow.

 

He was a ceaseless aggressor, a human tank who would gladly absorb two or three punches just for the opportunity of landing one, especially with Suzie Q, his pet name for his thunderous right.

 

After taking the best shots my opponent had I made him an offer: He could walk away, or I would knock him 0ut, drag him to the curb, and stomp him.

His best shots were back-fists and roundhouse kick combinations. Everybody wasn’t kung-fu fighting, but he was doing his best and I’d had enough.

 

We took a bow and made a stand, started swaying with the hand
A sudden motion made me skip, now we’re into a brand-new trip

Everybody was Kung Fu fighting
Those cats were fast as lightning
In fact, it was a little bit frightening
But they fought with expert timing

 

Fight For The Right One

If you want to be the right one for anyone it starts with communication.

Note that I didn’t say selective hearing, but here’s the deal:

Everything ever said between two people isn’t the most important thing ever said in the history of the world.

If it was then divorce would sky-rocket. Wait, what?

“Take off your shoes in the house,” isn’t an excuse to show who’s the boss by lifting your shit-encrusted boots onto the top of the coffee table.

Besides, where do you find shit-encrusted boots, city slicker.

Eating dinner together is not some sort of mind control putting one person over another.

Being a good  cook helps sort things out.

Inviting someone on a romantic trip only to treat them like a stranger? That’s a deal breaker.

They want to move in after the third date? Deal breaker.

To know if you’ve found the right one, propose to them, then break up and try to demote them to boyfriend/girlfriend status.

 

Her: I’m not going backward in my life.

Him: It’s not backward, it’s where we started.

Her: Maybe breaking up is a good idea since you don’t know your directions.

Him: Directions? What are you, a cartographer?

Her: I like to think so. If we break up, I’ll move away and start a new life with someone else.

Him: Just like that? You probably know where you’ll move to and who you’ll find there.

Her: Listen, it’s not all about you. If we’re not moving forward and starting a life together, I’m moving to start a new life.

Him: With who?

Her: Not you, from the sound of things.

Him: I could be wrong about breaking up.

Her: You are wrong about breaking up, but I’m not going to stand here and beg you not to.

Him: What’s wrong with that?

Her: You go first.

Him: Will you marry me?

Her: I’ve already said yes.

Him: Am I ‘The One?’

Her: Yes, you are. And I am, too.

Him: Yes you are.

Her: I’m what?

Him: The one.

Her: The what?

Him: I already said it.

Her: Do you think you’ll ever forget?

Him: This is why you’re the one.