Confessions of a Recovering Peter Pan (Part II)
Excerpted from Todd Coleman’s upcoming book, “CONFESSIONS OF A RECOVERING PETER PAN.”
I’m standing at Josie’s front door, and the noise is deafening. The angel and devil on my shoulders have called in reinforcements—it’s like a Chuck Jones cartoon of a Tim LaHaye novel.
I look in the window—no Josie. I knock on the door—no answer. You see? Maybe it wasn’t meant to be. I tiptoe up the concrete driveway, peer over the cedar fence into the back patio. Josie is on the phone smoking a cigarette (she doesn’t smoke). She looks awful, and has obviously been crying a long time.
I suddenly realize: I can still walk away unnoticed, make a clean getaway. I’ll continue to be happy, more or less, without Josie. I know how to “do single” after all these decades —I’m an expert.
On the other hand… I’ve already bought these flowers, driven all this way. My sister will kill me if I walk away from Josie, the “sister” she never had. Worse yet, my friends will write me off as “unmarriageable” and never introduce me to their cute friends again.
Moment of decision (sung by The Clash): “Should I stay or should I go?” In my mind, it is a hellishly pure, 50/50 moment. I want 51/49, some tiny sign from the Universe that will nudge me one way or the other. But the scales were perfectly—maddeningly—balanced. The Universe is no help at all. And my inner Peter Pan is screaming: “Fly away!!”
And yet, for reasons I can’t explain (uh, God?)… I slowly lift the flowers over the fence and reveal myself to Josie.
Suddenly I am overcome with sadness, seeing the pain I have caused Josie, if only by genetic male cluelessness. I walk through the cedar gate, and we merge wordlessly into each others’ arms, both of us very sad…and very happy.
Pause for effect, or handkerchiefs (clear throat, etc.).
I used to think that all men are commitment-phobic. Now I think: not all men—all boys.
Though I didn't realize it at the time, when I stepped through that wooden gate, I crossed the threshold from boy to man.
What’s the difference?
Boyhood is about dreams. A boy’s life is a vast, wide-open future of opportunity and freedom, especially freedom of choice. Boys never consider the “opportunity cost” of their decisions (“If this, then not that”). They somehow believe that they can have it all. And when they get old enough to do real damage to the ones they think they love, many of them—many of us—continue to hope and “believe” and wait for that "dream" girlfriend…wife, career, whatever. We avoid making grown-up, either/or choices, because we know that by choosing we could do mortal harm to that dreamy, fly-away boy and that perfect, blue-sky future.
A funny thing happened. After the cedar-fence moment, my fears of commitment disappeared. I didn’t even notice until months later that something had shifted. The thought of being truly known and loved became, well, bearable…then pleasurable…and finally, indispensable.
And when I finally fell to one knee on the beach where Josie and I had first kissed and I asked her to be the only woman in my life—for the rest of my life—it wasn’t a “brave” act of manly courage. It was what I wanted.
Josie wasn’t the “perfect” woman I’d spent years dreaming about. But she was perfect for me. And now, years later, there’s another perfect girl in the picture—a four-year-old charmer with her daddy’s nose and Josie’s crinkly smile.
So what’s the moral of this very true love story?
Freedom of choice is a crock. It is only by limiting our freedom—making present choices that limit our future choices—that we discover true freedom.
Or, if you prefer, the Digest version…
When in doubt, err on the side of love.
Especially if you’re 45.
Copyright © 2007 Todd Coleman todd@craftsmanpictures.com
Tomorrow, Josie (Todd’s wife) tells her story.
We want to hear your comments and questions—click on the word “Comments” below....
I’m standing at Josie’s front door, and the noise is deafening. The angel and devil on my shoulders have called in reinforcements—it’s like a Chuck Jones cartoon of a Tim LaHaye novel.
I look in the window—no Josie. I knock on the door—no answer. You see? Maybe it wasn’t meant to be. I tiptoe up the concrete driveway, peer over the cedar fence into the back patio. Josie is on the phone smoking a cigarette (she doesn’t smoke). She looks awful, and has obviously been crying a long time.
I suddenly realize: I can still walk away unnoticed, make a clean getaway. I’ll continue to be happy, more or less, without Josie. I know how to “do single” after all these decades —I’m an expert.
On the other hand… I’ve already bought these flowers, driven all this way. My sister will kill me if I walk away from Josie, the “sister” she never had. Worse yet, my friends will write me off as “unmarriageable” and never introduce me to their cute friends again.
Moment of decision (sung by The Clash): “Should I stay or should I go?” In my mind, it is a hellishly pure, 50/50 moment. I want 51/49, some tiny sign from the Universe that will nudge me one way or the other. But the scales were perfectly—maddeningly—balanced. The Universe is no help at all. And my inner Peter Pan is screaming: “Fly away!!”
And yet, for reasons I can’t explain (uh, God?)… I slowly lift the flowers over the fence and reveal myself to Josie.
Suddenly I am overcome with sadness, seeing the pain I have caused Josie, if only by genetic male cluelessness. I walk through the cedar gate, and we merge wordlessly into each others’ arms, both of us very sad…and very happy.
Pause for effect, or handkerchiefs (clear throat, etc.).
I used to think that all men are commitment-phobic. Now I think: not all men—all boys.
Though I didn't realize it at the time, when I stepped through that wooden gate, I crossed the threshold from boy to man.
What’s the difference?
Boyhood is about dreams. A boy’s life is a vast, wide-open future of opportunity and freedom, especially freedom of choice. Boys never consider the “opportunity cost” of their decisions (“If this, then not that”). They somehow believe that they can have it all. And when they get old enough to do real damage to the ones they think they love, many of them—many of us—continue to hope and “believe” and wait for that "dream" girlfriend…wife, career, whatever. We avoid making grown-up, either/or choices, because we know that by choosing we could do mortal harm to that dreamy, fly-away boy and that perfect, blue-sky future.
A funny thing happened. After the cedar-fence moment, my fears of commitment disappeared. I didn’t even notice until months later that something had shifted. The thought of being truly known and loved became, well, bearable…then pleasurable…and finally, indispensable.
And when I finally fell to one knee on the beach where Josie and I had first kissed and I asked her to be the only woman in my life—for the rest of my life—it wasn’t a “brave” act of manly courage. It was what I wanted.
Josie wasn’t the “perfect” woman I’d spent years dreaming about. But she was perfect for me. And now, years later, there’s another perfect girl in the picture—a four-year-old charmer with her daddy’s nose and Josie’s crinkly smile.
So what’s the moral of this very true love story?
Freedom of choice is a crock. It is only by limiting our freedom—making present choices that limit our future choices—that we discover true freedom.
Or, if you prefer, the Digest version…
When in doubt, err on the side of love.
Especially if you’re 45.
Copyright © 2007 Todd Coleman todd@craftsmanpictures.com
Tomorrow, Josie (Todd’s wife) tells her story.
We want to hear your comments and questions—click on the word “Comments” below....
Labels: Testimonies
2 Comments:
So, is there a female equivalent to Peter Pan?
The female Peter Pan is a woman still committed to the fairy tale ideal of romance. Like Sleeping Beauty or a damsel locked in a tower, she has been encouraged to passively wait for her Prince to come--the Prince who heard about her from various woodland creatures and who has spend years searching for her.
When the Prince finally appears, Sleeping Beauty (the infantilized girl/woman) does one of three things: 1) She pegs him for a frog, calls out, "Next!" and never gives him a passing glanc, much less a kiss. 2) She falls in love with the Prince, marries him, then realizes that he is a frog. She feels betrayed and depressed. 3) She knows he's a frog -- she digs frogs -- but believes she can turn him into a prince. She's half-right, but she has the wrong tactics and fails at her goal, and ends up like Contestant #2, stuck with a toad.
There is a fourth way, and it's the way Josie used to transform me from my natural frog-like state.
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