You Spin Me Round...

Well, the funny things about aging are the little realizations that come along with experience. Sometimes those thoughts actually provide us weird insights into our personal experiences throughout the years. They can be life changing, too.

I've had a lot of time to think over the past few days as my life has revolved around emergency rooms, my bedroom, and low dose Xanax. It's a weird story and I'll explain later in the post.

Last week, I met an old flame. Sigh...He's just as I expected. He's still adorable. He still makes me anxious, anxious enough to sweat, make my head spin, grin like a she-devil, and forget how to speak.

George A. Miller asserted that the human brain can hold seven (plus or minus two) bits of information in working memory at any given time. I was born at the short end of the stick and most of my five or six bits of information are used up thinking about various adult themed activities. That is how I explain my inability to think about more than one thing at a time. I tried explaining that to my first love but couldn't remember Miller's theory let alone the punchline.

Luckily, he remembered the theory and corrected me. Still, that voice made me forget the joke.

Yep, while speaking to this man, I can't even explain the most mundane psychological theory because I forget about everything on my mind except certain thoughts that I will never admit to having in polite company. I actually had to avoid looking into his beautiful blue eyes for fear of self-betrayal.

My personal term for it is Arousal Aphasia caused by decreased blood flow to the brain. It is a phenomenon that I have only experienced with this particular gentleman.

Some things never change, even after two or more decades...

Then it hit me, I should have married someone who induced Arousal Aphasia, thus keeping me quiet.


Think about it. What could be more perfect than a guy who is so hot that he makes his significant other forget how to talk? She can't nag, can't complain, can't verbally tell him to clean the gutters, or pick his dirty tightie whities up off of the bedroom floor. She'll just grin and put into play one of those six thoughts that are being held in short-term memory.

Sigh...

I wonder if this is actually part of the Creator's grand scheme and our innate design. Maybe the Lord actually intended for every woman to get so hot for her love that she can't verbally harass him and mess with his brain over the years.

The older I get the more I appreciate God's vision.

Well, it's too late now. I wish I knew this years ago. So girls, I share this to spare you the trauma. Marry the man who makes you spacey so you don't have a chance to turn into an old snarling female dog like I did. If you can't talk, then you can't nag, and your love can't hate you.

Cool...

And yes, this gentleman still makes me swoon. It was so bad that I had leave early and go home. I may owe him an apology for acting like I just got off a spinning amusement park ride and grabbing him (and no, it was just coffee, and pizza, nothing else...really). Thank goodness we aren't closer: I don't think I'd survive.

That afternoon, I somehow managed the long teary drive home before falling down in the garage. I thought it would end.

It didn't.

Over the next few days, I passed out at a bookstore (looking for a book I promised HIM). I nearly passed out in a class. Riding the Light Rail was tons of fun, too. On the bright side, I'll never have to visit Six Flags again: I'll just carry the man's picture in my pocket.

Over the weekend, my stupor got to the point that my friends forced me to the emergency clinic. I thought I was being stupid until the doctor said gave me a diagnosis of Vertigo and gave me an oxygen mask before hooking me up to an IV. Whoa...seven days later and I'm still dizzy.

The man still has it.

I sure hope he feels like a stud now.

Go forth, my dear friend, and find a hot woman to make swoon into oblivion. Oh yeah, make sure she has health insurance, too.