The Navy Seal: A Dating Story

He was a Navy Seal,

so I feel like,

that should be enough said.

Who wouldn't want to marry a good-looking, hot-bodied Seal?

And this one was a good guy,

He was handsome,

he was oh so handsome....

He was ambitious, clearly

and kind

and wonderful.

But Dave had a white car,

and I hated that white car,

and it was enough to make me stop seeing him.

I suppose judging a man by his vehicle could be a bit shallow of me,

Yes,

Even I would agree

On paper he was amazing.

To the world,

He was amazing.

To me, all I saw was that vehicle that would pull up outside, as he stood next to it, holding the passenger door open for me, like a sweet gentleman would.

For whatever reason this world sometimes doesn't allow us to like the ones we'd really like to like.  And if you're remotely like me, you will focus on the one negative quality of a person or the color of a vehicle and find it reason enough to justify why you can't seem to fall madly in love with that perfect person.

The world doesn't make sense.

But I distinctly remember the year after my dad passed I just couldn't seem to sustain a crush.  I couldn't seem to see how remarkably handsome men were and I certainly couldn't get past that annoying vehicle, despite all my friends' best nudgings and shock that I just wasn't that into him.

Not long thereafter I was befallen with the same sentiment about yet another dude that, initially anyway, I thought was Hot Tamales. 

I liked him instantly.

But, as it were, he picked me up in a bright, bright, bright  yellow truck and I remember feeling completely shattered and whispering to the world "Well I guess this isn't going to work out...".

He, too, was quite special.  If I only had the nerve to tell him his bee-mobile was a deal-breaker.

For some reason, somewhere in my subconcious when I know I haven't the desire to go the distance with someone I focus on their choice in vehicle (or perhaps some other inanimate object) and I use all of my energy to make that the deal-breaker.

And I feel compelled to tell you that I'm not a 'car' person.  Make, model, year, color.... I really can't be bothered to care (although I find men with modest vehicles extremely attractive)

We have all wanted to like someone that was good for us, and yet just couldn't muster up the romantic feelings to do so.

Perhaps that is how I ended up married. 

When Lloyd and I met he didn't have a vehicle.

He's European, so he could kinda' get away with it.

But the smell of public transit in our early days should have been enough to have me running and yet,

my mind had no idea what to focus on if not his vehicle.

I was confused,

Bewildered,

and the cramped bus, train and tram seats of England were crowding my mind's judgemental circuit breakers.

Well, I guess that's the story I will tell my daughter about how her daddy and I ended up married.

I think there may be a few other ones, too....