polaroids from the edge

Back in the days before Maude, before digital photography, microwave ovens, ATM's and other forms of instant gratification, we had to wait for things.
You can place the blame squarely on the TV dinner.
Ever since the advent of Swanson's frozen salisbury steaks, we have demanded our convenience neatly packaged and available on demand, ready to eat in half an hour or less at 350 degrees.
We have become a nation of leisure seekers, enjoying the fruits without the labor, the gain without the pain.
This congenital impatience has been inherited and passed down freely into our daily lives as an acute inability to bide time. I want my MTV, and I want it yesterday.
Video killed the radio star, perhaps. But it is also the cause of the decline of true talent; the ability to hold a note without the aid of AutoTune. (I dare not single out a single recording artist, a term I use lightly with say, Lady GaGa, but there you have it.) Telegenics have spawned the worst case of vocal genocide since I don't know when.
But back to my point.
With all of this lack of patience, other things must surely suffer.
People expect expediency from their laptops, cellphones, and even their online hookups. Where did people meet before e-Harmony? Okay, bad example. Let's call it a fast-mood mentality that has spawned the drive-through relationship that allows the patron to order exactly what traits they desire in a potential spouse. All bread and meat, hold the vegetables. (That may be a bit of editorializing, but you get the picture.)
Basically, we get what we ask for in a neat little bleached paper bag, otherwise we complain or take it back. No hassles. No fuss. No dishes to wash.
But what is lost when we don't take the time to get to know a potential partner, when we place an inordinate amount of time on the "rush" factor and not enough getting to know the individual? Do we find ourselves going back around to the pickup window?
Love is a tricky enough proposition in itself and should not be forced or hurried.
It should be relished and savoured, especially when you get it right.
It may come at 20. or 45. Or 60. But it will come. It is gratification delayed, but gratification nonetheless.
Frozen dinners be damned.