Logic: Not Over-rated at All

You know how sometimes you think you know what you’re doing, and then all of a sudden, you get that sick feeling that what you thought is completely wrong?  If not, then congratulations.  I envy you your certainty.  No doubt your life is far more organized than mine.  Probably not more surprising, but certainly more restful.  To tell the truth, I sometimes wonder if I’m missing some crucial switch in my brain that would let me plan carefully and weigh the consequences.  I really do.  I can’t figure it any other way.  It’s probably the same switch that would allow me to drive around this city (where I’ve lived since 1986) and not get lost, or predict the ending of any mystery, no matter how formulaic.  -It’s not that I set out to do things without thinking first.  It’s just that I never manage to think of every potential outcome beforehand, which tends to get me in trouble.  Let's just say that premeditation is not something of which I could easily be accused. 

And so here I was in Jamaica, not even half a day into my trip and having serious doubts about the whole thing.  After a year of phone calls and texting, I had convinced myself that this was a viable alternative to my increasingly unhappy marriage.  I was going to come through the doors and there would be this amazing person, with whom I was destined to live happily ever after.  As usually happens, real life didn’t live up to my whacked out expectations.  “Mr. Wrong” didn’t seem very excited to see me at all, while his cousin was charming and friendly as all get-out, asking me all kinds of questions.  Was I confused?  Yes.  Yes, I was.  I’d come to Jamaica for one man with whom I thought I had a promising beginning , and I was already attracted to another.  I sat in the car on the way to Greenwood, babbling about nothing in particular, wondering what the heck I was going to do about this mess.

That evening, all three of us went to dinner at The Fish Hut, the kind of place where you go in the back and pick out the fish you want from a blue Coleman cooler.  Having never been interested in looking my dinner in the eye beforehand, I let the guys choose one for me.  Nick and I were still talking about anything and everything while “Mr. Wrong” sat quietly.   It looked very much like I had gotten things wrong again.  Only I wasn’t due to leave for another nine days…Yikes. 

Next time:  Hot, hot, hot!