You can learn a lot on National Public Radio and yesterday I picked up some fascinating information. Flittering, flirting over Twitter, is the newest way to possibly meet “the one”. Honestly? At a flitter party each person attending is assigned a number. If someone is interested, a tweet is sent. So now dumb pick up lines are electronic?
Not long ago people met for coffee or lunch to see if they really wanted to commit to a date. Now do you flitter to see if you might even want to have a face to face conversation? I think it’s little weird. I guess it would be like a sneak peek to a blind date.
Scary blind date stories will stop even the bravest from going out with someone’s friend or third cousin. It took some fast talking for me to agree to go on one in college, but I did? I was so nervous you would have thought I had committed to bungee jump off the Royal Gorge bridge. I jumped all right. I married him 18 months later. He’s still my favorite person to hang out with.
Besides the big obvious things like common goals and faith, there are little things that have worked like glue in our marriage. Just like everything else in life we tend to get so deep, complicated and theological we forget the simple elements. This, of course, is my opinion not university research done by those with several letters behind their names.
Jim and I understood from the beginning, regardless how angry and frustrated we might get, we wouldn’t abandon each other. We’re on the same team and if a team doesn’t work together it loses. It’s hard to fight when we’re laughing so we laugh a lot. And, he travels and I travel so we get short breaks from each other. I’m being honest here.
Recently I was gone for 12 days. I’m good without him for five days but that’s it. I start feeling a little lost after that. About day eight of my trip I got an email: “Sorry, I broke the handle to the Swiffer Sweeper.” Now how do you get upset with a guy who is swiffering?
The next day another email came: “I forgot to tell you … I broke the lamp when I was swiffering.” Wow! I was wondering if it was a secret plot to get me to ban him from cleaning.
The day before I came home he sent a text similar to a flitter declaring how desperately he needed me: “This morning I accidentally bleached one of your new green towels. You’d better get home before I burn the place down!”
Obviously he doesn’t do well without me after five days either.