A bird in the hand

I have a very promising bird in my hand. Well, in my case, I actually have two birds in my hand, one literal (my pet lovebird, who spends much of his free time ignoring my polite requests that he stop humping my hand) and the other one metaphorical; but let's stick to the metaphorical bird for the time being. This bird is handsome, smart, funny and interesting. He wants the same things I want, and has called me at least twice a week since we started dating two and a half months ago. He likes live music, and has a membership to the Institute of Contemporary Art. He's an excellent planner -- he buys tickets ahead of time, and gets places early so he can save us a spot in line and I can arrive whenever, and packs a waterproof bag when we go kayaking (not that he's perfect -- I'm not sure if my sister will ever be able to move on from the fact that he forgot to pack water when we went hiking). He's made me dinner, and brought me to the theater, and we always have a great time together. And it's not just that he's great on paper: I actually really like him and feel connected to him.

But there are also a lot of very interesting birds in the bush. And while I completely see the wisdom of valuing the bird in my hand more than the ones in the bush, I can't help but feel very compelled by the ones in the bush as well. One of these bush-birds brought me a bouquet of flowers he grew in his garden recently. Another is bringing his brand new 8-week-old puppy to visit me at my craft fair on Sunday -- and who can resist a puppy! Another made an adorable collection of tiny stones and seaglass that fit snugly into a shell for me. These birds are filled with uncertainty; I have no idea what they want in life, or if there's any real possibility our lives could work together. But I'm really enjoying them and I'd hate to give them up.

If only there were a way for me to have my own little flock with *lots* of birds in it.