Such single-minded obsession sounds damned exhausting and since I'm quite the eternal optimist, it would take a whole lot of alcohol to have me brood that way over anything.
And yet I hear Heathcliff's not the only lovelorn hero trolling the proverbial moors. Hear of lovey-dovey Richandamy couples feeling like their chests have been torn open the minute their loved one leaves the room, that every fiber of their being weeps at the calamitous thought of being torn apart - and yet even with Charming Calvin miles away in a hill resort, I'm not feeling the urge to sing Ain't No Mountain High Enough yet. Sure the man is wonderful, he sings a mean karaoke and yeah, I do miss his company but I seriously doubt my world's simply gonna come crashing to a halting stop the minute he leaves town. After all, he's only gone for a couple of days and barely a stone's throw away ( if Superman were to toss that proverbial stone of course ).
Of course I have friends who have commented over my peculiar lack of sentiment.
Sentimental Sheila : He's gone for that long? Won't you miss him?
Paul : It's a few days, not a lifetime. It's a nearby hill resort, he's not moving to the wilds of Central Asia to join the travelling gypsies.
Sentimental Sheila : But you won't see him, right?
Paul : What? You expect me to pine away weeping copiously? It's a freaking three days at the least.
Of course I'm not the only non-Paperback Hero. I believe Charming Calvin's far too busy leading team cheers and blasting paint guns up in the mountains - certainly no time for him to beat his chest repeatedly crying over my absence.
How do I get back to my love?
Absence does make a heart grow fonder but it certainly doesn't mean that I should morph into a nervous wailing wreck, does it? :)