Monday, February 15, 2010

The Ones Who Got Away

It's Valentine's Weekend, and I'm so lucky and blessed to have a wonderful hubby, who even gave up watching the Daytona 500 live yesterday so as to go to The Vagina Monologues in North Hollywood with me. He's the best match for me that I could ever imagine, and I'm so lucky that I found him when I did.

But in the spirit of excavations, I'm thinking about The Ones Who Got Away. Chances are pretty good that I'm probably not going to fall in romantic love again. And part of me misses the exhilaration of meeting someone new, wondering whether they like you, whether they'll call, dishing about them with girlfriends, and all of that. On the plus side, I'm still a horrendous flirt. I flirt with walls, cats, computers and plants. Everything. But it's not the same when you know there's no chance that you'll get asked out after flirting.

Anyway, there are a couple of people who should be granted Honorable Mentions for Almost Getting Me. Obviously there was the inestimable G, who dominated my first blog and my life from 2000-2004 or 5. I lose track of when I actually officially got over him. As recently as October when I was in Soho having fun with Sandor and Mark Pollard, I thought how weird it was that I first came to London because I was chasing a guy, and I felt a little hollow for a second. And the book I'm writing now deals with a girl who can't get over the ghosts of past loves.

But the thing about G, when it comes right down to it, wasn't so much him. In a lot of ways he was a charming as*hole. Nah, that's too harsh. With hindsight I can see that he was a decent average guy, but there was nothing really about him deserving of the kind of devotion I gave him. It was really the idea of him that I was so in love with. And that idea was worthy of my heart. I just couldn't separate out the man from the ideal.

And besides, he didn't love me back, which really kind of settled the whole thing.

There was somebody else in London. We ate Indian food and drank pints of carling, and he told me I was irresistible. I'd never been told I was irresistible before. That's a seriously good word to use on a 24 year old. But he was taken, and I was in my Anais Nin phase and I thought it was romantic to think of him as my Henry Miller.

Stone-man T was 2004. His dog had more personality than he did. That's mean. I don't really mean that. Well. Maybe I do. That dog was seriously personable. And she didn't bark! Ever! And that was the year I got my cat Wrigley, and Wrigley thought the dog was her mom, and they snuggled together a lot, and man, it was cute. T liked to take the dog for walks. And we both liked travel centers. Man, I love a good Flying J or TA or Pilot. I can spend hours in those places. So our relationship was based on mutual admiration of his dog, and a shared love of truck stops. And that about sums that up.

Another Honorable Mention should go to M, who was my College Boyfriend. He was a good guy and I wish him well, but man, was I happy when I became single again after dating him until I was 23. He helped me move into my apartment in Koreatown, which was just about my favorite apartment I had. That was 1999. I was broke, but it was such a great little studio with a fold-in-the-wall bed. I loved that place. And, more importantly, I loved who I was in it.

So that's my Ode to Those Who Got Away. And man, am I happy I have a great husband. Just thinking about all these jokers again has made me rethink the Missing Dating concept!

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