Here’s this week’s installment of Five Minute Friday. You might remember the task is to write for five minutes on a specific prompt word. The initiative was started by Lisa-Jo Baker (http://lisajobaker.com/2013/08/five-minute-friday-last/) who thought about writing and how often our perfectionism gets in the way of our words. And she figured, why not take five minutes and see what comes out — not a perfect post, not a profound post, just five minutes of focused writing. I’m proud to be one of the hundreds of bloggers who take part each week and look forward to reading what others write. It’s always a treat reading different interpretations on a common word.

This week’s prompt is LAST.

Here goes. The timer is set for five minutes {clock starts now}

When I was a young buck, I made this startling revelation about choosing a date. I commented how sometime you’re last choice somehow ends up being you’re best choice.

Of course, at 18 in the still sexist 60s, that made sense. I wrote how sometimes, when you choose that perfect 10 blonde, you end up being bored to death on date night, while your later choices {I told you it was sexist} end up with witty banter and lasting friendships. You just never know until you actually talk to and learn about another person. That’s the lasting impression … not the fleeting eye candy.

In the naivete of the time, I journaled while talking about love, “All his life, it’s been him [the boy] who made the first move and phone calls, listened to the countless refusals and persisted with recalls. Sometimes, maybe five or six girls get called before one finally accepts to go to that dance, or movie, or prom, or just go out. More often than not, it’s his sixth choice for a date that he, and I hate to use this word, gets stuck with [and] tries his best to make number six feel like number one … The first girl he calls should accept … If the guy has any sense … STOP

… at all, he’ll realize she’s not good enough for him. I sometimes wonder what would have happened if I had gotten my first choice every time. And I always get the same response. My ideal evening probably would have been wrecked anyway. In some cases, number six climbs the ladder to the top very quickly. In others, they just move up, and still more stay where they were.”

Fortunately, one day I met a girl, a chance meeting through a friend. Over the next six months we forged a lasting relationship that resulted in 40 years of marriage. A chance meeting turned into true love. Karen was my first true love … and my last true love. And, to think, there were those skeptics who thought it would never last.

Well, that’s it. As I matured, I realized how self-centered those teenage ramblings were. Yet, as I look around, I realize how true they still are … only they are not just for guys. The girls have learned how to play the game as well.

THOUGHT TO REMEMBER: Happy bees are always on a honeymoon.