The 80 % rule

A friend e-mailed me a few days ago to say that he thinks my life is interesting. I had no idea of what to say. I don't think my life is all that exciting. Strange; yes. Interesting; not so much. I ended up telling him I would ponder his remark as I scrubbed the next few bathtubs. But so far I've got nothing. There's a big topic rolling around in my mind but its not coming out coherently. In the mean time this story seems suitably interesting.

After Rick I met Dave Friendly. Don't confuse this Dave with my friend Dave-follow closely. Dave and I went on a few dates before it became obvious that he was not "the one." This didn't bother him in the least and he quickly became "the friend with benefits."
He was the one I used when I was trying to forget. Or when there was no one to forget but loneliness. He's a great guy but made two things very clear from the beginning: he was incapable of monogamy and not interested in anything serious. Somedays this made him perfect and other days this made him the anti-Christ depending on my mood. But if I called, he showed up. And if he called and I wasn't dating anyone great-well he showed up then too.
Dave didn't know that I was trying to forget and didn't care. Our first date was eventful (another day) but remained clothed. Our second date involved some dinner somewhere and a rented movie. I think he developed a clear picture of my intent when he let me pick the movie at the rental place. "It's good. I've already seen it."

Most people would have called it a doomed relationship but we weren't even trying to have a relationship. I was trying to erase someone and Dave was busy being Dave.
And this arrangement worked well for three years. He was the second person I called after any major break-up (or even any minor break-up sometimes). When I just wanted to forget Dave was the guy.

Sometimes he would call when my relationships were going well and he always took it in stride, "I hope this works out for you-but if it doesn't you know how to reach me." And it never did work out. He knows all the "reasons" and all the rejection of the past few years. But he only has an idea of what happened before he and I met.

The last time Dave came over (and as the story will tell I mean last time as in final) things went pretty much as usual. Except I had changed. Something was different. It was me.
Six months before Dave had been over and afterward asked me a strange question. "Do you think I should marry Susan?" I questioned why I, of all people, would be the one to come to for advice on this. He and Susan had been dating for close to 3 years- she was the girlfriend who came after me. And that time I didn't give an answer. I had another thing or two to learn before I would really change.

But the second time he asked me was different. Naked, in bed with another woman, drunk and definitely stoned-he thought to ask me if he should marry her. The sheer ridiculousness of the question made me laugh out loud. But he was serious, "I value your advice- out of all the women I know you are the most grounded. I know you'll give me good advice." I was flattered. And I thought about the question. And in my usual irritating fashion answered a question with a question- "Well why do you think you should marry her?" His reasoning was pretty sound. She had put up with him for three years, neither of them wanted children (which up until then I had not known), he was getting older and had no desire to start over with dating. I followed with a girly question, "Do you love her?" I really had no idea if he did or not. It wasn't really the sort of thing we generally discussed. He told me that he guessed he did- that he really wasn't sure of what love was or if it even existed. He said they had had a similar conversation before and that she had said she wasn't sure true love existed either. And while I had been lucky enough to experience it I was unable to describe it. And I was lying in my bed thinking of how to explain love when I knew we were through. "Yes Dave, this is twice you've brought this up. It's been more than six months and you're still thinking about it. Go ask her."

There were too many things going on in my head to explain. Too many ideas and too many memories I would be unable to erase.

In the end I went with humor. "You know-as far as I can tell about 80% of the guys I date marry whoever they date after me." "Really?" he questioned. "Yeah- I guess I should have warned you to choose carefully."