“If you want him, if you really love him, go get him,” I told her. “Don’t let reason or doing the appropriate thing get in the way. Go all out.”
Dave Doolin once told me that trying too hard is a valuable data point.
He really said that. “Valuable data point.”
If you study as much as you possibly can –
If you train as hard as you can physically endure –
If you write and edit to the best of your ability –
If you fully demonstrate your adoration in word and deed and wild enthusiasm –
and you fail, then you know that thing was not for you. You gave it your all and didn’t win.
There’s certainty there. A useful data point.
If you could have done more and fail, you’ll always wonder:
Could I have done more?
So that’s why I give unreasonable advice. If you want it, go get it.
And go all out.
Because then you’ll know.
This applies not just to love but to everything.
When my first daughter was born, I tried out strollers in the store, found the one I want, found out its price and decided to want another one. Then I decided to think about it. While I was thinking about it, someone handed-me-down a stroller. It was worn down. I broke down and bought another one but not the one I wanted. It was terrible and I despised it for a year until I woman’d up and got the one I wanted. I used it for four years and two babies – but I paid for it in three strollers and two purchases instead of one.
It’s also taken a few false starts to get this love thing right.
Lesson learned. You’d think.
This fall and winter I wanted a particular pair of knee-high boots. Like the stroller, I decided they were too expensive. I decided to make do with less. I bought the cheap boots. I wore them for six weeks. They fell apart and so did my frugal resolve and then I bought the ones I wanted in the first place.
Being cheap costs me money. Restraint is a false economy. It’s way more effective to be extravagant.
Extravagant tastes better and is better for you. Right this minute I am munching on popcorn seasoned not with butter but with the hickory-flavoured sea salt we reverently refer to as The Good Salt (from Salt Boutique in Smithers, BC. Salt’s a clothing store, so you’ll have to call Caroline directly if you want some of that good, good salt).
Get the good salt. Invest (once!) in the good stroller. Write excessively, err on the side of drama, risk being cheesy because you can edit judiciously later and enthusiasm is not an add-on. Buy the boots you desire and the best ones you can afford. Marry the only one you want.
Get the one you want. Invest extravagantly in everything and everyone you care about including yourself, sugar. Get everything you want.
And so did she:
“You told me that if I wanted him, to go get him, and I did.”
Well, Hallelujah! and pass the (well-salted) popcorn.