Can this town get any smaller? It's official. I have dated anybody I am ever going to date here. Until the new boys move in town. Case in point. The two guys I am tossing around these days (translation: seeing) both just moved to DC in the last 4 months. And, yet, only one of them is southern. Although the other one has been in Austin for the past several years. I am giving him a pass. I like southern boys. Maybe that is what I am doing wrong. Maybe I need a good midwest boy. [Let's reel her back in because this post is getting very regionalist and she's not like that really --say the voices in my head]
And so when you have gone out with all the guys you are going to for now, you run into the old ones. I have no problem running into them per se. Unless I am in my yoga pants and no makeup and ratty ponytail in line at the CVS buying a pound of chocolate and In Touch magazine and batteries. Or, worse: UNLESS THEY ARE WITH A GIRL. Um, it's all about me, don't you know? They are supposed to be pining away for me. Certainly they shouldn't have lost 15 pounds. And they shouldn't be, like, president of their firm now. And not buying $1 million houses. And they shouldn't be mauling a tacky bottled-blonde. And they shouldn't come up in my online matches. And they MOST CERTAINLY shouldn't be getting married.
I have secretly wished them all to gain 50 pounds, lose their jobs, move in with mom and dad, and date their hand - or forever stay in the closet. Gay as some may be.
But apparently this isn't the case as I learned from recent brushes with death - er, the past.
Run-in #1: Let's start with this guy. Who was also this guy. And then ended up as this guy.
Brief history: Met in June '04. Dated casually for three months. He is extremely successful. Very metro-sexual. Climbs mountains. Very knowledgeable with indie music and 80's college radio. We could talk for hours trying to stump each other with "bet you never heard of [this band]." We stopped seeing each other because I-don't-know but it had something to do with me still being hung up on The Yukkell (see below). I couldn't let him go so I let the guy go. Fast forward to a year ago, April '05 when things were FINALLY over for good (as in 100% out-of-my-life) with The Yukkell, I called him back up. We met up and just never geled this time. I made the mistake of telling him about The Yukkell. Perhaps he didn't like being second best. So we fizzled a month later when he canceled on going to a wedding with me a week before it was to happen on account of a date with a tailor in NY. Or, more apt, a case of just-not-that-into-me.
Close encounter of the I'm-A-Loser-He's-The-Gloater Kind: Wednesday night show at 9:30. A venue we last saw Gang of Four play back in May. But Wednesday night, it was Stellastarr - a band I know he isn't a big fan of. "They're rip-offs," so says the critics. Whatever. And the Editors (great band! but don't they sound a lot like Interpol so I would argue all music is converging as it usually does - so-called-indie music is saturation overload and 80's derivative anyway, but I digress as usual) - so the Editors - a band I knew he would be into these days.
So, of course, there was a possibility he would be there. I went up to the spot that he taught me as being the best spot to stand - upstairs center stage. If he was there, I was prepared for him to be with a buddy or alone. I wasn't prepared that he would be with another girl. I mean, we all thought he was gay. And not just because he would be late to pick me up because he couldn't break from "What Not To Wear." And not because he flew to London to have his clothes made. And not because he loved to watch golf on tv only to see the "ensembles." And not because it took him 7 dates to kiss me. But here he was with a girl and they were very close. Touching. Intimate. They threw off the we've-been-in-bed-all-day-threw-on-clothes-because-oh-my-god-look-at-the-time-we-have-tickets-let's-not-make-the-bed vibe. It was the baseball caps and t-shirts that gave it away. What I saw: Him: happy. Me: alone. My posse wasn't yet there. Our eyes locked. I brushed past him alone. He held my stare and then I did my whole freaking out looking away and running away thing. Nothing to do anyway. I don't owe him a thing. Then I put my glasses on and stood over in the corner cowering behind some guy so he wouldn't see me. Alone. And who cares anyway? But I hope I looked hot.
Afterthought: I kind of missed him. Something about him. I was really sad over the night and all day until something (to come below) snapped me out of it. But he looked really good. He clearly lost 15 pounds and he was dressed so casual. No tailor made that windbreaker for him. And sneakers! He looked relaxed. Something I never got to see. And he was with a girl wearing a baseball cap and t-shirt. It was so not the guy I knew. With me, he was always over-the-top with his pocket squares, drinking his Makers. Did he put on airs with me then? He's the one living in a million dollar house.
Postscript: Several months ago - about the time I started seeing Peter Pan - I was having drinks in "his bar." I asked the bartender about him with just this, "Has Carson been in here lately?" And the bartender immediately recognized me and said, "Oh, you're the girl - the wedding - wait - I can't say any more. He just gave me a bunch of Hugo Boss suits." So he stopped talking. I always wonder what that was about.
Run-in #2: The infamous Yukkell (the guy who drove me to blogging)
Brief history: God, where do you start with this one? All I can say is we were best friends, moreso than boyfriend/girlfriend, for 5+ years. We were in each other's life practically every day over that period. We shared a lot. Our intimacy was mostly on an emotional level. We both went through a lot together. When my dad died, he was there. When his mom died a year later, he turned to me. When he lost his job, he took it out on me. He was emasculated and so that is when the emotional abuse started, or was it alwasy there? (water under a bridge now) He confided a lot of pain in his life and only I know some of the depths he has sunk to, things he has endured. I understood him better than people could understand why I stayed with him. Sure, I probably gave more than he gave.
OK? So how did it end? Well, his ex-girlfriend (college girlfriend) called him after 10 years for "legal advice." See, her husband just died and left her with four little girls and she needed "help." She pulled out all the stops (without getting into specifics because it really is none of my business and obviously very personal business). He never treated her very nice in their relationship so his guilt got the better of him. I think he wanted to be needed afterall. His friends, family - everyone - told him he was making a huge mistake in helping her. YET, I was the one person who supported him and told him to explore their relationship again. I "let" him go.
So, this is why I don't understand this coming from him...
Run-in of the Not-Exactly-A-Run-In Kind: Because, um, he runs from me. Literally. A month or so ago I was at a bar (go figure) one Saturday afternoon. A couple hours later he and his whole posse of friends entered bar. The majority of the guys came over to sit at my table to chat. He went to their "regular" table with others in his crowd and then when he saw me on the other end of the bar he hightailed it out of there. Seriously. And the past few weekends he has avoided our mutual friends gatherings to watch the LSU games. His beloved home state. He has told his friends he doesn't want to see me.
Afterthought: Why is he avoiding me? The last time I saw him was a little over a year ago and I look fondly on that weekend. It was very intimate (not sexually in the least or at all). He was trying to get me to beg him to choose me. Conversation was interesting. Between us. I miss him solely as a friend. And that is it. For my own reasons, I will always have this huge part in my heart for him. Yet, he avoids me. I see only a couple reasons why: 1) he thinks I am going to cry cry sob and beg for him back (as he is moving to houston in a few weeks and marrying the girl and being daddy) - in which case he would be so wrong - I've got enough men in my life these days - and I will ALWAYS wish him the best; 2) he doesn't want to see me as the girl who has moved on because as long as he has known me I have been faithful supporter to him putting him on a pedestal and maybe he wants his last memory of me to be a sweet one - like our last weekend; or 3) he can't control himself around me (he never could) he was just as fixated on me as I was with him. But really, I know him, he makes a decision and never looks back.
I really mourned him like a death. I will never see him again...
Run-in #3: Peter Pan who is now the Johnny Jerkface.
Brief history: Is that necessary really? Because aren't you sick of it? I am, but the progression went something like this. And this. And this. And this. And this. And this. And then sputtered here. To here. Crashing here.
Run-in of the Trolling Kind: He is online now! I am waiting for him to show up in my matches like he did before. So I guess things didn't work out with the bimbo I saw him hanging on when we were on a "break." But I stumbled across his little profile on a fluke. I have been periodially typing his username in not really expecting to see it because I thought that perhaps his disappearing act was attributable to another girl. But when I typed it in the other day his ugly mug popped up on my screen and my reaction was a yelp, I slammed my laptop shut and jumped out of my seat. Knee-jerk reaction, I know. Over-reaction, I know. I mean, he can't really see me, right? Wrong. I probably just showed up in his "who's viewed you" log. Lovely.
Afterthought: Smug retribution because he is back to square one too and apparently still in the closet.