Mon, March 29, 2004

I'm completely head-over-heels in love with Maggie Haskins. I'm sure most of America is, too, or would be if they knew who she was. Up until last night, Maggie was a contestant on Dream Job, ESPN's reality-based search for a new SportsCenter anchor. If you haven't seen the show, you can read more about it in the Dream Job article, linked on this page. (But first, shame on you!) She could've won, too, but she lost to a bunch of guys because she failed to leverage the key advantage that she has: versatility. She had her hair highlighted, but she really should've gone for curls and dramatic eyeliner. It's not that she should've dolled herself up to flirt with the judges, but the guys can only switch between a grey suit and a blue suit, while she can employ a much broader spectrum of "looks" – pants, blazers, skirts, hair up, hair down, etc. She can range from "sporty" to "glamorous," while the dudes can only go with "clean-cut" or "dapper." Sadly, sportscasting is still a male-dominated world, and she failed to exploit her key advantage in that universe: bouncy ringlets. But, screw ESPN. If they don't want her, that's just more of her for me!

In case you don't know me, I fall in love constantly. Constantly. I'm very quick to fall in love, and the right kind of companionship is so important to me that I'm reasonably sure that I could marry just about any of these instantaneous crushes and live the rest of my life with her and be happy, no matter what new things I'd learn about her once I approached her and actually engaged her in conversation. However, I am realistic enough to know that this isn't a good idea. As willing as I am to work at it, the chances are one in trillions that I could be blissfully compatible with someone I've never met. So, even if I'm lovestruck, I know deep down that if one of these women were to invite me to marry her and quit my job and give up my TiVo and uproot my life and move to San Antonio where we'd live right next door to her crazy family, I would say "no." Albeit with great reluctance, I would decline. I would at least be smart enough to wait until I knew her better to decide that she's that important to me.

However, if Maggie were to say that to me, I'd accept in a heartbeat. That's how much I love her. She's the only woman I've never met for whom I'm that confident about our compatibility. There have been others, but currently the only other one is a wonderful girl I met at Arksie's wedding. She's just as unavailable to me as Maggie is, and that's what I've been thinking about.

It's ridiculous for me to be in love with Maggie Haskins. (At least I can acknowledge this. I pride myself on achieving "hopelessly pathetic, but self-aware!") It's ridiculous mostly because of how silly the reason is. I fell in love with her because Joe told her (in his column; he hasn't met her either) that she and I would be a great fit. So lonely am I that I started believing it instantly. Now, coincidentally, it turns out that we really would be an excellent match. I've watched her on TV and I love her mannerisms and her sense of humor and her easygoing intelligence. She and I like the same TV shows and the same music (in an interview on ESPN.com, she ashamedly admits loving Britney Spears the same way I ashamedly admit it). I also love her squirmy camera presence, which is chief among the reasons she just lost Dream Job. Being an avid sports fan, she's sort of a tomboy, and watching her try to stand still in a skirt and blazer ensemble is something to behold. She couldn't look less feminine, standing – feet shoulders' width apart – as though she's preparing for someone to snap her a football. She's constantly tugging at her sleeves and the hem of her jacket, as though she's uncomfortable in her own skin, or doing her impression of Michael J. Fox in the bathroom line after Lord of the Rings. This is a huge attractor for me, because it indicates an insecurity in her that is not only compatible with my own insecurity, but is also a great fit for my fawning levels of affectionate attention. (For example, she teared up a little in the interview after being cut from Dream Job – the perfect moment for me to collect her in my arms and spirit her away to an extravagantly planned romantic evening of fine dining and moonlit walks!) But she's beautiful; I don't mean unfeminine in a bad way, or in a "masculine" way, I just wouldn't be surprised if this is the most time she's ever spent in a skirt.

So, I'm just giddy with love for Maggie and when I watch her on TV I sense myself pretending that I know we'll be married someday soon, and I sense myself knowing deep down that I'm not so much pretending it as believing it. And that's sad. So, I started thinking about that, because how pathetic is it for someone to get all wrapped up in a girl who's never even heard of him, his friend just pretended that it would be fun to set them up on a date? Very. What I realized, though, is that there's value in my adoration for Maggie. Even though she and I will never meet and we'll never be married, she helps teach me more about what I'm looking for in a partner. I suppose this is one of the points of relationships in general. (I always thought the point of relationships was to see naked boobies, but I'm willing to try another angle.) For me, infatuations have always been fleeting, instantaneous flights of fancy with little or no basis in reality. Only recently have I encountered crushes (like Maggie) that go much deeper. Either my miserable loneliness is really starting to get to me, or this reflects a new level of realistic thinking being imposed upon these silly fantasies. (I choose to believe the latter, because handguns have a waiting period and no way am I dropping TiVo into the bath with me.) See, even if I'm not meeting and dating as many women as I'd like, at least my rich fantasy dating life is providing me with valuable insights about who I'll be compatible with. Maybe this will come in handy in the future, and maybe it'll just give me ideas for my online dating profile, but now I know that although common sense would say that I'm best matched with another sullen misanthrope like myself, I'm actually more drawn to the outgoing, friendly type. And, I'm more aware than ever how important it is for her to have things in her life that excite her. Even if my potential life partner doesn't share my passion for TiVo or writing self-effacing Internet diatribes (or naked boobies!), the fact that she has passions of her own (like sports!) will at least give us a common understanding. In fact, I think that's the key thing I've learned from Maggie. I know "opposites attract" is a tired cliché, but out of the original Dream Job article in which Joe promised me that Maggie would love me forever, the part that has stayed with me the most is this:

I love my wife very much, and enjoy being the relative sports expert in the house. I would miss her doing her crossword puzzles, asking me things like, "letters on a Cardinals cap?"

What I take from this is the concept that, while each partner has his/her own interests, they also develop an appreciation for each other's passions by seeing through one another's eyes. So, even though I'll never be able to follow sports as closely (or at least with as much comprehension) as a real sports fan, I could learn about sports through Maggie, and she could learn about – I don't know, boobies – through me. I've always felt the strongest bond in that sort of exchange: talking about filmmaking to my friends from home, or listening to my dad talk about architecture. That sharing is so invigorating because, if you think about it, that's all we're here for in the first place – to learn as much as we can. When we trade our knowledge with someone we're close to, it allows us to expand our understanding of the world, and it also deepens our understanding of each other. I think I finally know why people on reality dating shows are overusing the phrase "get to know [someone] better" to the point of abstraction.

So, while I'd gladly marry Maggie tomorrow and I'm sure neither of us would regret it, what I should really do tomorrow is begin my quest for my own Maggie. As Orny Adams says in Comedian, she's out there somewhere, and I feel for her – because she has no idea what's coming.

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