Love is like the Radio

A metaphorical tid-bit for those who can never be truly satisfied with anything.

Finding love is like finding the perfect radio station.

       You flip through the stations until you find something you like… first impressions are important, after all. The station you land on is very likely not the station you would have chosen a year ago, maybe not even a month ago. But it feels so right when the wind is blowing through your two day old pony tail and you are cruising solo down the back roads of this farm cluttered New England town. 
       One song after another and you find yourself lost in a trance of the golden oldies and a double yellow line that is stretching beyond the limits of your imagination.
       Each song is a new thrill, a thrifty wonder at the hand of an anonymous late night DJ. Every so often they will throw you a curve ball, a track that brings you back to reality. For these two and a half minutes you will be able to feel your feet on the ground and reality might even come back into focus. The perfect scene you had been thriving in comes to a halt and you realize you are flying down these windy wood laden streets at 60 miles an hour.
       Every so often will come a song that leaves you wanting to abandon your beloved station all together. But you will stay put - holding on to the hope that this is only a hiccup in an otherwise seamless playlist. 
       Moments later and you hear the pick up of your favorite tune that brings you back to barbies and playing house in your neighbors dusty attic. By the first chorus you have moved forgotten all of the ill-will you held against the prior offense. You are swept up in the fantasy of a memory, yearning for the days that were more simplistic than you ever cared to realize. 
       But then, one day hearing the same songs recycled over and over again begins to wear on your sanity. It is a painful realization, knowing that you must leave something you once treasured so deeply behind. You hesitate for a moment before hitting the power button. The silence settles and you are alone, again, with only the rattling of the engine and the gravel beneath your tires.

Author's Note

This went through several drafts, I could do a million more but I think it's important to get an outside opinion before editing it to death.