Ted-Mosby on A Geek's Life

My Mosby Problem

Sat, 27 Aug 2016 17:52:56 +0000

In trying to understand how I end up in places like this far too often, I suddenly realise I may have a Mosby problem. Like him, the protagonist in How I Met Your Mother, I fall too hard too soon, focus on a single individual who I think is the one to the exclusion of all other potential options only to end up disappointed time and time again.

The simplest change I can implement - and the crassest from the looks of it - is to not pin my hopes on one person too early; keeping multiple options lined up such that when one opportunity fails to materialise, the cycle time between picking up with the next option is significantly reduced. This neither tastes nor sounds right but given the limited time one has left, it feels like the only choice. Sigh :(

#64 - Certainly Uncertain

Sun, 06 Mar 2016 22:03:03 +0000

Spent the entire weekend building up to a conversation with L. The arguments and counter arguments were all laid out in my head, in my very worst Ted Mosby imitation. Here on the cusp of the actual meeting, it doesn’t feel so cut and dried in my head anymore, which may or may not be a good thing… I guess I’ll know soon enough how it goes..

#Pensive

#59 - Mosbytis

Tue, 01 Mar 2016 23:09:18 +0000

Spent the bulk of the weekend re-watching Season 9 of How I Met Your Mother, complete with its unsatisfactory ending in which Ted shoots off to Robin’s after all she put him through. Tsk!!! Tsk!!! Before that though, Ted’s summation of his 9 year journey to finding Tracy did resonate with my inner suppressed romantic:

It was at times a long, difficult road. But I’m glad it was long and difficult, because if I hadn’t gone through hell to get there, the lesson might not have been as clear. You see, kids, right from the moment I met your mom, I knew… I have to love this woman as much as I can for as long as I can, and I can never stop loving her, not even for a second. I carried that lesson with me through every stupid fight we ever had, every 5:00 a.m. Christmas morning, every sleepy Sunday afternoon, through every speed bump. Every pang of jealousy or boredom or uncertainty that came our way, I carried that lesson with me. And I carried it with me when she got sick. Even then, in what can only be called the worst of times, all I could do was look at her and thank God, thank every god there is, or ever was, or will be, and the whole universe, and anyone else I can possibly thank that I saw that beautiful girl on that train platform, and that I had the guts to stand up, walk over to her, tap her on the shoulder, open my mouth, and speak.