The On Ramp

I'm newly addicted to "Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip". It's my treat, my reward for staying focused for two-and-a-half hours at rehearsal on Monday night: I can come home and TiVo through "Studio 60".

Last night Jordan had a "play baby", a doll that simulates the functions of a live baby so prospective parents can practice before the real thing arrives and they screw him or her up. In reassuring Jordan about her abilities as a mother, Danny told her that the first year of parenting was the on-ramp. Basically, you get time to get up to speed before the baby starts walking and talking and remembers the things you do to it.

That made me start thinking about relationships. Is that the point of dating — it's the on-ramp of permanent relationships? But once you get on the ramp, don't you get a little chance to drive on the freeway before you hit the next exit and dive off? I feel like I've hit the guardrail every time I've been near the freeway for the past several years. The analogy to my car being dented would be my heart being dented. My heart ain't bouncin' back. I find my ability to believe is smaller and smaller, less and less.

Am I going to start being scared to get in the car?