Commitment

Commitment is like achieving the rank of black belt. Most think of it as a culmination when it is only the beginning. When my parents learned that I intended to continue my martial arts training after earning my black belt, they were not prepared and informed me that I would have to pick up the monthly payments. I continued to train for nearly a decade and taught men, women and children of all ages. That is where this analogy ends. Trust me I am not about to start teaching anything about commitment and I intend to be with my partner for longer than a decade

As of this writing, I am 40 years old. You might say that I have been following a  "40 and 40" plan so far. I wish I could say I planned it that way. About six years ago, I had a "coming out" as an artist. I had spent the better part of the first 40 years going to school, having a breakdown, going to school, going to work, having a breakdown, going to school, going to work and so on. What did I do for work, you ask? I was always an artist but the only thing I thought I could be of use to the squares was to serve, to teach, to help, etc. At some point, I got a tap on the shoulder from God to let me know my services were no longer required. It was not long after that I self-published a graphic novel and released an album. I was in my mid-thirties. I was myself, or at least beginning to be myself. That seemed like a good time to step up the dating process and find my partner. The only problem was that I knew what a girlfriend was. What was a partner? I had to lose her in order to learn that. You can read more about this in earlier posts.

What is love? Baby, don't hurt me. Don't hurt me, no more. 

For those who follow the word of the prophet Haddaway, that may cut it. Somehow, they believe they will answer the first question and avoid pain. Good for them. The title of my one album of original songs is The Heart Stays On The Sleeve. Yes, I march to my own tunes. Not only did I wear my heart on my sleeve, I gave it away. I would take it back in whatever condition it was left in and I would put it right back in my heart. Maybe Haddaway was onto something in his recognition of pain and the logic of at least returning the heart to its original location, to at least give it some time to heal. That was not my way, for better or worse. Keep giving it away, taking it back. I believed it was making me stronger. Then, one day, I went to take it back and she wouldn't give it back. That was the true beginning of commitment. Am I saying I was to stupid to recognize it? Absolutely. Haven't you been paying attention? Apparently, I wasn't. Then, one day, I went to a movie by myself, realized she could be seeing one with someone else and wasn't having it. So, I e-mailed her and we went on our first date as life partners. Welcome to the second '40' of the "40 and 40" plan.

You might be thinking it was a hell of a gamble to bet it all on finding her by 40, in order to find her in time for the next 40. That's how I roll. If I'm lucky, I'll get some bonus years. That's not what rocks about commitment. I started as a white belt in karate. Everything had to be spelled out for me, every step explained. It was all about kicking and punching. Becoming a black belt was about becoming a better human being. Are you seeing why I'm sticking to the metaphor?

You make me want to be a better man.

That line was spoken by Jack Nicholson in his Oscar-winning performance as Melvin Udall in the film As Good As It Gets. I don't know if we ever learned Melvin's age but it's clear that it took at least five decades. Thankfully, it didn't take me that long. But it's just as true about my Maggie as it is about Carol, Helen Hunt's role, also an Oscar-winning performance. Melvin is a misanthrope, a writer with mental health issues. Let's just say that's not too far off the mark when it comes to describing me. Like any great love story, two people come to the end of their respective roads and start a new one, as a couple. They don't know where their going but they're going there together. A priest, or a nun, enters in to a relationship with God and the only way out is in a coffin. It's the same idea. There's no escape hatch, no parachute, no holding back. That guy who was always ready to "get back out there", even if I wasn't? He's on the beach, in a lounge chair, sipping an iced tea. It's time for me to become a better man. How long will that take? How long do I have? That's commitment.