Ever have one of those weeks when you cry to the gods: “Why are you punishing me?!” A week when you run into every single person you never wanted to see again and you begin to believe that karma actually does exist…and maybe somehow you’ve asked for it?
I blame the confusing stop-start action of spring. A few warm days in February brought on romantic notions in the eyes of New York City men and women, but now we are back to the cold. The result: everyone is in a bad mood and seeking an outlet. It is exactly when our mood is at it’s worst that we run into ex-paramours.
Encounter #1: THE RELUCTANT ONE NIGHT STAND IS AN ADDICT
Once upon a time he seemed decent enough for me to go all the way with on the first date, although as you might recall, I later regretted it. I didn’t regret sleeping with him; rather, my remorse was due to the fact that he only called me one time after the act, bruising my ego.
He worked downtown and hung out on the Upper East Side. We had mutual acquaintances. On a dull Monday night, there he was – WASTED – with a bunch of Wall Street suits.
He looked at me lasciviously. “A.…hey…what’s up?”
Noting a slight white powder residue clinging to the faint beads of perspiration on his upper lip, some excessive jaw grinding, and embarrassing non-rhythmic dancing by the bar to a Britney Spears song, I realized he was far more of a party boy than he’d previously claimed. He was repulsive.
“What was I thinking?!” I whispered to M.
“That’s the loser you got all bent out of shape about?”
“He’s better looking when he’s sober!”
She surveyed him intensely for a moment. “Raise the bar, sweetie. At least he left his watch at your house so you got jewelry out of it. Too bad it’s only a $70 Kenneth Cole!”
TUESDAY: HOSPITAL BOY HATES ME
I had met Lucas in a record store. Every time I went into that same joint, I was worried I would see the medical research victim who I had briefly loved and then couldn’t handle.
I ducked into Virgin to get out of the rain. He was reading a book and chewing on lavender candy. I smelled that familiar flowery sweet before I even saw him, and felt a pang for a half second. His back stiffened as he saw me from the corner of his eye.
I decided to be mature and say something…but what was appropriate? Ask whether he was still doing the tests? Whether he’d moved out of the ghetto projects in Flatbush? Whether he’d ever written any of his script or if he was still slacking?
“I hope you’re well,” I murmured awkwardly.
He looked at me and I felt all the wrath of wounded pride. “Yes. I’ve moved on. Thank you for asking.”
This was a karmic annihilation. I had broken up with him over the phone, after all. There was nothing else I could do but slowly walk away, right back into the thundershowers.
THURSDAY: THE EX-BOYFRIEND LONG-DISTANCE PHONE CALL
C. and I are still close. We had become like brother and sister after being together for over 2 years. The spark was far gone when I finally broke up with him by leaving town for a new start in NYC. He was very sweet and supportive.
However, every time we speak on the phone it starts out friendly and C. always ends up crying. He’s the sensitive type. So when he called to update me on some stuff (he still has the apartment and gets my mail) it was comforting and then sad. “I still miss you,” he said. “I still wish we could have gotten married.”
After I hung up, it set me to thinking:
- Did I have issues with emotional intimacy?
- Why do I emasculate so many of my boyfriends?
- Why do they slack when we’re together, and then excel in their careers after we break up, leaving them new and improved for the next girl?
FRIDAY: THE FRENCH MODEL, POSING IN A NIGHTCLUB
Franck has become a running joke my friends like to bring up, an example of vanity intermingled with Euro cheesiness. His last few text messages had exhibited stalker tendencies and emotional imbalance, so I forbade him to talk to me again.
I dislike nightclubs, but my friends had dragged me out to a birthday bash. Lo and behold, there the French Model stood, in the center of the room, dancing with a very young girl who looked up at him with complete adulation. It was like a bad 80’s movie. He saw me and immediately began to sulk, turning his face from side to side to highlight the angles of his jaw.
“Oh Christ,” I said to R. “He’s MODELING for me in the corner of the dance floor! How gross!”
She laughed so hard she choked on the olive from her dirty martini.
Franck began making out with the 16-year-old, kissing her and looking at me as if to show me what I was missing. Again, I had to question my ability to judge character…how could I have ever spent time with someone this corny?
I had to endure my friends’ making fun of me for a full half hour after that, whereupon I decided to call it a night.
CONCLUSION:
The universal law of polarity was definitely applying to me. Maybe I’d had too many ‘ups’ recently…and needed a downswing. Regardless, I wasn’t taking any more chances on unpleasant encounters.
I didn’t leave the house for 2 days after that, using the excuse of heavy writing deadlines to get out of social commitments. I hoped that my week of running into exes was over.
No comments:
Post a Comment