Is patience something you’re born with or something you learn? Forget it; either way, I don’t have it. If I’m watching a movie with someone who’s seen it already, within 10 minutes, or at the first slightly suspenseful scene–whichever happens first–I will be begging that person to tell me what happens. If you say you’re going to call me around 8pm, I’m checking my phone’s reception at 8:01. I stopped even bothering going to free events in NYC because of the ridiculously long lines.
I want to be a more patient person because I hear it’s a quality people appreciate, but I just don’t think I have it in me.
Which is why I had to give up watching How I Met Your Mother. After starting to watch the show at the end of the 4th season and spending that summer catching up on re-runs, I never thought I’d say that. I thought I was devoted enough to the humor which, admittedly, started to slightly phase out past season 5, that I’d follow this gang till the very end. How clever for a series to be set up so viewers would feel guilty for quitting on it before they discover the mystery of who’s married to Bob Saget’s voice.
But there’s a limit to my curiosity, and it makes itself known just a bit past the point where my patience ends.
In addition to the fact that I don’t even like the main character (Saget’s voice’s younger version), which does make me feel guilty since he’s from Ohio, the storyline is too tired for me to care anymore. And with how long these kids are allegedly sitting on that couch listening to their dad’s tale, one has to wonder whether it’s not taking place so far in the future that the children are actually robots and “mother” is short for motherboard.
Or maybe the eternal quest for someone worthy of producing progeny with just hits a little too close to home for me to really be interested in this random guy’s search. I have my own search to worry about, thank you very much, and I’m much more invested in the discovery of “how I met your father.” But I promise, future children, if you ever exist, I won’t subject you to multiple hours of backstory that frankly isn’t all that connected to the real story except that it took place in my lifetime. If I ever have a story, that story will be short: We met, we fell in love. Because in the end, what else really matters?