Let me count the ways. I love thee in a Vera Wang tank, a Macy's crocheted cardigan, and in Talbot's cords.
I also love thee in velveteen and ponte, and I even love thee when I'm discarding thee. Tomorrow's post will be green and gold, which is practically the(e) same.
Hang on, abrupt segue approaching.
Over the weekend I started thinking, "You know that feeling you get when you're getting ready for a first date, and feeling a few butterflies? How it might be great, it might be dull, it might at least involve a nice dinner?" Well, I HATE that feeling. That feels like ANXIETY to me. That feels eerily similar to some of the board meetings I've been to in the last year.
Now, I get that many people like that thrill of anticipation. There are situations where I like it too - when I'm about to go on stage, for example. Whether I'm acting or talking to a crowd, that frisson is pleasant and energizing. It makes me sharper and more enthusiastic and more entertaining.
But that is because I know what I'm doing on stage. I don't know what I'm doing in relationships; or at least, everything I've learned goes out of my head at that moment and I become a fourteen-year-old again. I want to do what I'm GOOD at. And I fear the outcome of dating. Stage = applause, in my experience, and dating = tears. Public speaking is cake, and dating is . . . something less tasty. Or eating too much fried food. Oh sure, it's fun for a while, but you sure feel lousy later. Sorry, I may have lost the metaphor there.
I also note that I love picking out what I'm going to wear on stage. I love the "costume". On the other hand, for years I wore the same thing on first dates; dark jeans and a black silk top. It was a uniform, concealing rather than revealing.
So for now, I'm going to stick to dressing up and going to work.