Day 3 (in my personal quest to blog daily) The writing prompt is Genius.
Hey, Genius! I hear you talking, but you can take that conversation over to someone else. You’re too much trouble for me! I like my men a little less anal and a lot more focused on me. Genius, you’re unable to laugh at yourself and have fun. Sorry, but I can’t stand the way you’re always studying and inventing things.
I dated a guy who was a child prodigy at piano. All I did was sit around, hour upon hour, while he plunked out notes, trying to perfect his melody. It was drudgery. Whenever he saw that I was losing patience, he’d slide over and make room for me on his stool.
If I appeared less than fascinated, he’d slip me a little kiss on the lips. If I tried to get up, he’d put an arm around my waist and pull me in a little closer. I finally told him that I didn’t want room on his stool. I wanted my own stool to make whatever it would be.
I had purpose and goals of my own. I might never be known by only my first name. My name might never drip from the lips of the masses, but I intended to get it done in my own way. I, too, would make an impact—well, okay, a ripple.
Dating or being married to genius probably takes a lot of time and attention that I was not created to give. Doesn’t genius just cry out, “Needy! Messy!”
“Feed me. Buy my clothes! Remind me to go to the barbershop. You support us. I’m too busy being smart to work.” Ha!
No, I’m going to let someone else have the genius. I’ll take Average Joe.