The Waiting Game

I am an instant gratification kinda gal. Those of you who know me well, know this to be true. It is most likely my biggest flaw. It's horrible. It's the reason why I rent, and don't own. I do, however, have a fabulous collection of gorgeous shoes. The problem is that there is no equity in shoes, and contrary to the nursery rhyme I cannot live in them. It's the reason I started smoking...middle of a huge delay with 300 passengers yelling at you and 5 minutes reprieve, what can you do with 5 minutes to relieve some stress? You can't go have sex (well, I guess you could, but I never did), you can't down a tub of ice cream, you can however, have a cigarette. Instant gratification. It's the reason I can't save money - Money's always been a means to an end...or a sweater, or a cute dress, or jewelry, or a book, or anything really. My idea of saving money is waiting two weeks for the next paycheck. It is frustrating to me beyond belief that I have to wait for anything. And waiting for my 'mr. rite' is no different. And I've been waiting three years, dammit. Well, I've been waiting my whole life, but it's been three years since I realized that the mr. rite I was with was absolutely not right at all. I'm being taught patience, I'm being taught that anything worth having is worth waiting for, I'm being taught that patience is a virtue. I'm being taught to hurry up and wait. I realized just how silly this all was today. Since seeing this beautiful man on the skytrain the other day, I am convinced that we will be together. I know, this is kind of freaky, right? Okay, maybe not convinced....hopeful might be a better word. I look forward to the skytrain now, I dream about seeing him again. The wonderful thing about an overactive imagination is that this man has become the man of my dreams. He is thoughtful and kind and romantic. In my fantasy, he is going to bring me flowers on the skytrain because that is the thoughtful, romantic type of thing he does. The problem? I haven't seen him since. I see the same weirdo's every single day on the skytrain...like the guy with the doc martins that go up to his knees, or the guy with the super big mole on his cheek, or the bald security guard...I see them every day. I've seen this one guy who has styrofoam attached to the back of his baseball cap (in case he falls, perhaps?) three days in a row, but Mr. Perfect, I haven't seen him. Knowing my luck, I probably won't. This is where I remind myself that an overactive imagination is just about as bad as an overactive bladder. It gets you nowhere - and, um...that's where the similarities end...they can both be unpleasant... I would like to meet, fall in love, and marry the man of my dreams in a week or so. It's not so much that I want to be married (but I do...) it's more that I don't want to go through the agony of waiting. I don't like the dating - oh, the first date agony. I don't like the waiting for the call, the text, the wondering. Does he, doesn't he? Will he, won't he? I would be content to fast forward to the coming home to smelly socks on the floor and dirty dishes in the sink. But, I realize that in instant gratification there is no long term benefit. There is no knowledge that you've worked hard for something, that you've built a relationship (or whatever else it may be) with love and laughs, tears and years. Fast forwarding means I miss out. I miss out on my heart skipping a beat, the wondering, the longing. And so, I'm learning. I'm learning to be patient. I know that when 'he' finally comes along, I will be ready to savour every moment of the journey. And that, in the end, will be so worth the wait.