Good grief

For those of you who are keeping track, today I am 34 1/2 yrs old. Bummer. I've been toying with the blog idea for a couple weeks now. Nothing makes you want to anonymously chat up your life on the internet like a small life meltdown. Here's today's (besides my impending old age that is).

If you know me IRL, you know I'm on enough dating websites to satisfy a New York socialite. Currently we have two front-runners (but today they're not important). Not being really too keen on either of them-one appears to have no time to actually see me and the other appears to be happy being my pen-pal and calling at odd hours of the night. So I logged onto my usual dating cesspool and read todays dose of boring e-mails. Then I went to see who's viewed me. Usually it's a freakshow; people who have eyeballed my profile but haven't winked or e-mailed. Today, right there on the first page, is the one who got away.

I was sure of it without reading any of the text.

I would recognize him anywhere.

To tell you where I farked this up we have to back-track some. And I'm sure I've screwed this up with this guy on multiple occasions so bear with me.

Wed January 31 , 2007-

After working an insane 12 hour day I came home and showered. I really wanted a drink but hate drinking alone. How much more depressing can you be? Really? As luck would have it-perhaps the last time I had any luck- the phone rang as I stepped out of the shower. It was him- before he officially became "the one that got away." He wanted to know if I'd meet him for a drink at the local spot just around the corner from my house. I was there in 30 minutes.

At this time I'm dating Paul, a sweet guy who has recently returned to college for his law degree. Names are changed only to protect the innocent so your guess is as good as mine here. But on this day I 'm still wearing my rose colored glasses in the relationship (read as he hasn't handed me my ass yet).

Rick is at the bar in his usual spot. And he looks better than I've seen him look in a while. Seriously hot. And being Rick he's telling me I look hot.

So we talk for a bit and drink. Most things seem normal. There's a reason I say most. This is the first time I've ever agreed to see Rick when I'm happily dating someone else. This is the first time I've gotten to the bar and found him sort of drunk and it's the first time I've ever heard the heard him say the following: "I love you. I'm going to Vegas in May. I want you to come with me and let's get married."

This is where I screw up big time.

He's not mister emotional. He's an engineer for crying out loud. While his words are permanently embedded (we'll have the story on how burned in they are on February 3rd) in my mind what I say next can only be paraphrased at best. Rather than say yes- like any sane woman would. I say no- no as in you don't really love me and you don't really want to marry me. You're drunk-no. And for the next half hour he tries to convince me that he's serious. I remind him that I'm happily seeing someone else. And he asks why I'm here at all then. (He's incredibly smart.) sensing that he isn't going to win the major battle he tries a smaller request- come home with me tonight and I'll ask you again in the morning. While this offer is almost too good to pass up I think of sweet, trusting Paul dutifully studying some 100 miles away and decline. I'm trying to behave here I tell him but he's insistent and staring at me with the most gorgeous blue eyes ever. I'm about to lose this one.

And here's where I break my own heart. I realize that Rick isn't going to back-track on this conversation. I can't change the topic. So I decide it would be safest for me to go home. I've never told him no; it appears that it's impossible for me to actually do so. I put on my coat and grab my purse. Somewhere in the middle of this he's caught me in a hug and is inches from my face. Damm that cologne. And here's the moment; I'm trapped in a hug that represents my complete moral dilemma (with an Atheist for added irony) and the request has dwindled down to just one kiss. "Kiss me once and I'll let you go if that's what you really want." And as his face goes out of focus I turn my head and twist away; the kiss lands somewhere between my cheek and my right ear. I've never told him no before.

I can hear my footfalls on the tile floor as I'm leaving. And I can feel the eyes on the back of my head. But I can't look back. I don't know what look was on in face. I was too cowardly to look but I'm sure the one my mind has put in that spot is only a shadow of what was there.

It's February and it's freezing cold outside the door. It's even colder when you're crying. And I did it to myself.