Good Guys

“It’s a sign,” I told myself, while riding down the street last weekend. I laughed gloomily at my accidental pun. “Well, of course it’s a sign.” Large words ran across the front of the local Good Guys building. “GOING OUT OF BUSINESS,” it read, declaring the company’s financial state to those driving up and down Hammer Lane.

This was not a surprise. I have known for some time the company was closing its doors. Weeks ago I read in the newspaper that they were unable to compete with another company, CompUSA, and were going bankrupt. But the words meant more to me then the end of a business I was never the customer of in the first place.

It was only one day after I had broken up with my boyfriend of seven years. I was, and continue to be, depressed, mourning the loss of a very important person in my life. Part of grieving for me, as it is for a lot of people, is wondering if I will find someone new. Will I be alone forever? Is there someone else out there for me?

These concerns were among the many doing the cha-cha over my relationship’s metaphorical grave when I looked up to see my fear displayed in bold letters:

“Good Guys – GOING OUT OF BUSINESS.”

Could it be a sign? Yes, yes, I know it was a sign. It was a literal sign announcing the Good Guys misfortune. But was it also a sign of my misfortune? After all, most of the guys I meet, like this store, have discounted themselves for quick liquidation (Okay, that pun was intended).

I could hear the TV announcer’s voice:

“Better act fast! All potential mates will be gone soon. Their morals and self-control have got to go! Come on down – they’re just giving it away!”

There was a time when I would have wandered down to see what kind of deal I could find. The goal in bargain shopping? Pay less and get more. I have often chosen someone because they were within my price range; I didn’t feel like I deserved what I really wanted. I always stayed safe, thrifty.

To give more of myself now and step out of my comfort zone will be very scary. I could risk losing what little investment of self-esteem I have left. Most of my emotional savings have been depleted from frequent withdraws and smaller, less frequent deposits. I must be willing to save up for what I know I want.

What I want is a relationship built of durable, spiritual material that will hold up to wear and tear. My reservations about the quality of my last relationship partially explains why I kept my ex-boyfriend on layaway for seven years, only to let him be restocked.

After purchasing several relationships from the discount rack only to have them faded or shredded after two washes, I have finally realized an important shopping truth that applies equally to dating – you get what you pay for.

I do not feel ready for the department store (in my case a bigger church, with a wide selection of potential mates), or even the home shopping network (internet dating). Still, I look forward to the day when I meet a "good guy", and will be courageous enough to feel like I have a chance with him.

Despite preparation and planning, no relationship comes with a lifetime guaranty. It will be expensive - a risk on both our parts.

I am sure, however, that it will be worth every penny.