I believe it was George W. Bush who so eloquently butchered that age-old adage: “Fool me once, shame on you... Fool me... you can’t get fooled again.”
Or can you? This is the question consuming my thoughts as I consider embarking on that risky relationship venture: the
second chance.
The world is full of success stories of second chances — relationships that ended in disaster, only to later wind up at the altar; the near-divorce that soon produced beautiful babies; the reunion of a broken relationship years down the road. But what about the not-so-fortunate carnage of the failed double dip? Are those poor souls doomed to drown in bitterness and regret, spurned by a decision that leaves them worse off than before?
I’ll spare you the intimate details, but I’m warring with these various thoughts right now and spending an embarrassing amount of time seeking gems of wisdom. I’m looking for someone to say, go for it! Everything will be okay! But, as expected, it’s not that simple.
Make a list, one relationship website recommends, and enumerate all the reasons for the breakup. Then check off all the ones that seem “fixable,” and figure out what each of you will do to fix them. (“Disposing of body parts in an undisclosed location” probably isn’t a sign of my progress.)
The idea of such a methodical and trite approach to relationships would have been laughable to me even a year ago. But I now find myself reaching for a pen. Perhaps it’s a byproduct of age, or a larger fear of the dearth of available lesbians out there, but I’m tired of throwing in the towel. If I have to start over again and hear myself tell the same weathered life stories to a new person with feigned enthusiasm, I might die. But then there’s that other voice in my head screaming, “Bitch, you ain’t getting any younger. You can’t afford to waste any more time!”
Part of me wants to look to the future with optimism, imagining the strength of a relationship that endured its near undoing. The other part of me worries that humans are psychologically incapable of truly leaving their pasts behind.
And then I stumbled upon a little indie documentary called Crazy Love. If ever you have doubts about the normalcy of your relationship, watch this film. In it, a spurned psycho hires someone to throw acid in his ex-lover’s face, blinding her in the process. Years later, upon his release from prison, the pair marry.
Asked how she could ever marry a man who did this to her, Linda Pugach responds: “Once I made a decision that I was going to go back with him, I consciously made my head say, ‘Hey, listen, you’re starting from scratch. What was the past was the past, and you have to go on from here.’ ”
Is this woman truly insane, or the possessor of the greatest well of forgiveness known to man? Most likely, she is a little bit like all of us: scared of being alone, co-dependent, slightly damaged. She is living proof that love is, sometimes literally, blind.
Just then, my buzzer rang. As I bounded down the stairs, I thought of that poor woman innocently opening her door to find a stream of acid coming at her. For me, it was instead a vase of flowers and a note. “Let the story continue. Thanks for believing in us. We deserve this.”
I second that.
Jeannie Greeley is a freelance writer who wants to hear your thoughts on second chances. She can be reached at jeannieg@comcast.
