Say 'Rose-Colored Glasses' One More Time

I once had a friend from Ireland who cocked his head and shot me a not unkind side-eyed glance.  

“I sure wish I had a pair of those rose-colored glasses you walk around wearing all the time,” he said.

“What rose-colored glasses?” I asked, feeling the top of my head to see if I had forgotten that I had pushed some sunglasses up there. 

I also had a different friend who, when I said something stupid, would shake his head and give me a gentle smile and a light pat on the head and go, “Oh, Lisa…,” and I think that would have been a really appropriate gesture in the above moment. 

Side note: The head-patting friend was a really great-looking guy, a tall, dark, and handsome strapping specimen who literally—I watched it happen on at least a few different occasions—turned heads whenever he walked into any room.

He was meeting me and another friend of mine at a baseball game one summer, and my friend had never met him and had no idea what he looked like.  “Just watch for a really good-looking guy,” I instructed her. “Like, really good looking.  That’ll be him.”

“Uh, okay,” she said, rolling her eyes.

About 3 seconds later, I watched her jaw drop and her eyes widen as she looked at a spot over my shoulder.  “Holy cow,” she breathed.  She shook her head.  “There’s no way you can be talking about the guy I’m looking at right now,” she said out of the corner of her mouth.  “He’s way too hot to be your friend.”

I spun around and felt my face light up into a big smile as the guy she had just ogled broke into a jog to get to me and give me a huge hug. Yep, it was my buddy.

“No way!” my friend repeated, now laughing as I introduced the two.

Told you!” I said, laughing too. The moment was sweet.  I love I told you so’s and what’s even better is that I get to use them all the time since I’m always right.

Anyway, back to the point of the post:  I don’t have my rose-colored glasses anymore.

Over the last two years, as those trusty rose-colored glasses that I had so blissfully worn my entire life were metaphorically ripped from my face and tossed to the ground (then run over and shattered by a 40-ton semi); when my worldview went from naïve Rose Nyland to cynical Dorothy Zbornak before you could sing “Thank you for being a jerk,” it was a little hard for me.  Okay, it was a lot hard for me.

My older sister made fun of me.  “It’s about time you caught up to the rest of us,” she said.  “Now let’s talk about those repressed memories you have about our unfeeling narcissistic mother.”

One thing at a time, big sis.  ONE THING AT A TIME.

No, unfortunately I don’t have the rose-colored glasses anymore.

But I DO have a kayak, and on some days, that’s almost as good.*

Cocoa Beach, Florida

*I just thought of something...was that last line a rose-colored glasses kind of line?  I CAN'T WIN


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