I’ve dated a whole host of characters. From a mohawked skateboarder who smoked pot and drunk drove at 14, to a preppy science nerd who meticulously gelled and parted his hair before class each morning. I’ve hooked up with wrestlers, congressmen’s kids, and lawyers. There’s been no shortage of flings and fun.

It might seem strange that I’ve bounced around without rhyme or reason, but a friend recently explained a theory she has that lends support for my actions.

She argued that our relationships exist on a pendulum.

At first, we date the depressed artists who teachers hate but bring intensity and wonder into our lackluster, adolescent lives. When that (inevitably) falls apart, we turn to something dramatically different to avoid making the same mistakes in love all over again. The next boyfriend might be the dependably sunny captain of the lacrosse team – he’s a huge hit with the parents, but bores you to tears. So, that ends too.

At this point, you might reconsider the rebellious type who your parents hated, but you don’t want to date someone exactly like your ex. So, you seek out a toned down version.

And so it goes.

Back and forth and back and forth. A methodical relationship pendulum.

Each time a little less extreme.

You take the good from each relationship and toss the bad until, like a pendulum coming to rest, you slow down and find that sweet spot in the middle.

That’s the person you end up with. You find the culmination of all your mistakes and past lovers and you’re left with the perfect balance of everything you ever wanted.

That’s The One.

2 thoughts on “The Pendulum Theory”

  1. How long do you find it takes to realize the pendulum hasn’t stopped swinging?

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