They're Baaa-acck

Monument built. Hanging gardens hung. Mystery of Stonehenge is a work in progress, as is solving world peace.

I’m a little spastic today. This happens when I have too many ideas and not enough time to write them. They start to jumble together and I get real random.

Oh, and I may as well put this out there now: You’ve been spoiled. When the blog was at the old site, I used to post every 3 days. I’m posting 5 days a week now. And frankly, I don’t know how much longer I can keep up the pace. So there are going to be some cutbacks. At the very least, I’m going to talk about other things than relationships (The blog overlaps with the ten-to-six. I need to save the good topics for the job.) I am killing myself to get you full stories everyday. At best, I’ll try bringing in guests again to give me some relief and make sure you have something to read—especially the Canadians.

So, on to today’s blog.

I took the train home later than I usually do last night. A man got on with a bouquet of flowers for his lady. Another man complimented him and they joked briefly about the woman’s reaction. (Imagine shrieking on the train, followed by uber-masculine laughter.) The man looked 38 was actually 53. But that has nothing to do with today’s post.

For some reason, this exchange got me to thinking about the past, in particular my exes. When I was much younger and mourning the departure of some boy who’d abruptly walked out of my life and broken my heart, my mother told me this:

“They always come back. You be a lady and they’ll always come back.”

Mama told me the truth, but she neglected to add that they all come back…at once and when you least expect them. Over the last month, I’ve heard from every significant other* of any significance except Big (which is for the best. If he called, I would immediately fall out and die from shock alone.) They didn’t want anything—or it seems that way so far – other than a response. No rekindling flames. No walks down memory lane. Just simply a recap on what’s happened in my life since we parted ways.

Consistently, they all say I turned out exactly as expected, which is a little surprising as I dated 2 of them before I even knew what I wanted to be when I grew up (ie, a writer/editor). Apparently, I’ve always been work-driven and focused to the point of alienating my SOs (ouch) so they knew I’d achieve whatever dream I set forth. And all of them remembered me pontificating away about relationships. (My high school ex remembered my senior thesis—a collection of short stories about... relationships.) Anyway, here’s how the former SOs—at least 3 of them- turned out. Out of respect, I won’t mention #4, the most recent.

Avery: He hit me via MySpace last week. In high school we dated for a little under 2 years or a little over. I can’t recall anymore. He broke up with me on my 17th bday and his best friend laughed in the background. It was the summer before I went to college and he was still in high school. It wouldn’t have worked, anyway. I don’t think I even cried. He was my first BF and there was a time when I lived or died for him, hung on his every word. We had the exact same sense of humor and he encouraged my neuroses. Even now, thinking of some of he dumb ish we said and did makes me laugh. Anyway, we met in prep school; he was a freshman, I was a junior, but there was only a year’s age diff. between us. He lived in a mansion, his father was the pastor of a huge, prominent church. One year for Xmas, his Dad bought his Mom a Lexus and put a bow on it. He’s a rapper these days of the 50 Cent variety—all gangster, guns, and glory. I have no clue where he draws his material from. Oh, and he has a kid by a woman we went to high school with. Go figure.

Scott: He called me out of the blue a couple weeks back to tell me he was moving back to NY. He was teeny when we dated. Like 5’7, maybe 150lbs. He was a die-hard romantic, used to write me the most beautiful poetry a man could ever write a woman. He used to walk me to class and carry my books. Great guy. We broke up partially because we had to do a long –distance relationship for the summer (I was in MD, he was in NYC.). And partially because he wore taps on his shoes when I was going through a flats phase (He was too short for me to wear heels.) I hated the way his Durangos clicked-clicked-clicked when he walked. (I was 18 and very shallow.) He was a biology major and aspiring doctor. One day while we were dating, I sat him down, told him he had a brilliant mind and way with words and he should switch to English. I found out years later that he did. He’s now a senior producer at CNN. Oh, and he’s a bodybuilder now, always posing in his MySpace pictures in skimpy red draws. (Pause. Let it marinate.) His arm is literally the size of my thigh.

Thomas: He found me on MySpace. Hit me to say hello last week. I read his profile and it says “Proud Parent.” HUH? I dated him late in my college years and all through grad school (those of you who pay attention will figure out who this is. I’ve talked about him before on here.) He wasn’t even on my radar the day he came up to me senior year and gave me a rose at a club. I thought it was sweet. (I found out later that he’d actually bought it for my best friend, and his boy talked him into giving it to me because his boy thought I was cuter.) He gave me a ride back to our dorm, walked me to my door, then called me 10 minutes later to ask to use my microwave. We talked until sunrise—at which point he abruptly left. (Months later I found out he went to throw up. He’d heated up a sandwich with mayo on it that had sat out all day.) I can’t tell you how we broke up because I’m saving that for Part 2 of another blog (pay attention!). He’s now the father of one of the cutest little girls I’ve ever seen in my life. He put his artistic passion aside (music) to go the stable route and followed in his mom’s footsteps. Professionally, he does what she does for a different company. It’s a nice, stable job with benefits and he’ll probably work there until he retires in 40 years. Everything about him, I saw coming –except for the kid—which is partially why I ended it 2 days before the new year. I was willing to sacrifice almost everything to pursue my dream. He didn’t support his own dreams—much less mine. The other part? Irealized he couldn’t make a decision without consulting someone.

It was good to hear from my exes and I’m glad my mom was right. Each of them taught me a lot about life and myself and for that I am thankful. All that said, I’m more glad that they each of them are exes and not presents.


*As usual, names have been changed to protect the innocent and guilty.