Remnants

There was a conversation last night about ideals...about the "ideal relationship"...and some interesting, if nonstandard, ideas of what that might be. How maybe a duplex house might be a workable solution to the problem of getting hopelessly bored with seeing the same person every day...his side and hers...with appropriate standards of living as the principal occupant saw fit...and something about visiting rights. Curiosities about how passion can survive the routineness of a life...or something as basic as conversation, for that matter -- how long can you dance in a marketplace of ideas before the relationship gets truncated to the "how was work today" newsflash... Do you have to have an obsession to understand/support someone else's?

And, more intrinsically, how do you extract yourself from the tangled web of your past experience(s) enough to even really dream of something "ideal" -- without "the ideal" becoming nothing more than a laundry list of those things antithetical to what you've just had?

(and somewhere in the midst of this was some rogue mention of "Hufu" and cannibalism, but that's not actually central to the point...though I did get really wrapped around the icky-factor in the notion that you know there have to be Hufu taste testors ...and I had to stop thinking about it at that point...*shudder*)

And, in the end, there was me leaning against the doorjamb saying "...you know, it doesn't really matter anyway...because ideals can't exist in reality. The minute another person is introduced into the equation, the ideal dissolves... No one is perfect. No one will ever match the ideal, no matter how well we define it."

Ah yes...the girl knows how to thwack a conversation, doesn't she? Heh.