These two sayings seem to be completely contradictory, along the lines of "Look Before You Leap" vs. "He Who Hesitates Is Lost."

When I set out to write this ramble, I was going to say that it was the Greener Grass syndrome that rules romance; the easiest path to obsession is when the object of your desire is only intermitently interested or available. From this point of view, "playing coy" isn't just a gimmick, it's a serious romantic strategy.

After mulling it over, I decided that the situation wasn't that simple. (Personal friends and long-time readers can now roll their eyes-- a reoccuring theme in my life and my writing is that nothing is that simple.) Embedded in the concept of Sour Grapes is a warning, and a useful piece of advice. There are some things in this life that you will want but won't be able to have. If you can modify your perspective to focus on the downside of whatever it is you wanted, you're likely to be better off. It's a "serious romantic strategy" in its own right.

When you're really ready to commit to a relationship, you have to be willing to put your own past behind you, and you have to stop hunting for new possibilities. A few months ago I reviewed "A Few Thousand Words About Love" where Ron Carlson said the following:

The reason I've been married this long and will be married for the whole deal is-- yes, in fact partly because my wife Elaine is utterly resourceful and large-hearted-- but the part of the credit I will take is simply this: I never imagined anything else. I actively imagined this. Even at times when I was right against the broken window of rocky times, I never saw anything but this, a marriage, and all the dear and trying vicissitudes of that terrific and muscular and vivid and intimate word: longevity

I agree wholeheartedly with that, and will just add the following: the more you learn to savor the grapes that are available to you, the finer the wine you can make will be.