PROLOGUE

So often we hear of people and their epiphanies: monumental thoughts or events that catapulted each of them into major life changes or successes beyond compare. As an un-inspired writer, I have been waiting for one of those to crash into me for quite some time now. Some event that will get me off of my proverbial ass and make me tell my tales, the way my family and friends have been imploring me to do for years. Up until now… buppkes. No job to get fired from, no relationship to end in heart wrenching despair and no quarter-life crisis; just coasting along in the general mediocrity lane. Ironically – it is actually the pocket-sized dramas, the ones that build upon each other like a child’s awkward, unsteady, Lego building and seem comical from a few days distance but insurmountable at the time, that brought me here. A teeny tiny green gossamer drama, that led me down the drain and right into my epiphany…

Down The Drain: The Real Story

At least a week had gone by wherein my bathtub was seemingly having some type of drainage problem. Nothing egregious at first, only about an extra 10 minutes for the water to go down but that 10 min. quickly crescendoed to about 12 hours. I tried everything at my disposal, a full bottle of professional strength Drano Max, internal/external plunging sessions (with rain boots during high tide) and a faux “snake” but to no avail. As much as I hated to acquiesce, the time had come to call in the reinforcements a.k.a. handyman. As I am of the belief that I can do everything on my own or live with it not being done, asking for help is always my last resort. I left word with my doorman and then ran out so I didn’t have to bare witness to my own damsel in distress-iness. When I returned home and asked him if everything went well, my doorman loudly replied, “oh yeah, fine, they found a pair of green underwear in there – they may have to tell the building manager”. I wasn’t quite sure which aspect of this was most disturbing: the fact that the entire lobby now knew I occasionally wash my delicates by hand, that I may get in trouble for this or that I was such a bad “mother” to my garments that I didn’t even know one of my favorite underwear had gone missing. To add insult to injury, when I called the handymen to apologize and find out what became of my underwear he explained to me that he had it in the office because he needed it as evidence. EVIDENCE! My green thong, who did nothing bad to anyone, was being held ransom. People’s reactions varied from amusement to anger, I however, was more awe struck by the idea that green underwear were once again destined to play a significant role in my life. They were there the first time I "cleared the bases" (not the same pair) and now they would be the impetus for my epiphany. They are the raison d’etre behind this blog. I miss them still, but it gets easier everyday…


3.09.2009

DATING:The One That Got Away

The one that got away – we've all had a few. The men or women of our lives whose worth we were too young, too stubborn or too drunk to realize. This darkly romantic notion has been the driving force behind novel, sonnet and song since the dawn of time, so imagine my good fortune when I was able to reconnect with one of mine. Jordan and I had only gone out a few times but there was something deeper there. I was a bit immature at the time and he was embroiled in a breakup so nothing came of it. Then, one glorious day, my friend ran into him in cyberspace and I, in a moment of insanity, reached out to him. He was genuinely excited to hear from me, was finally single and made a date with me soon after. When I saw him waiting for me at the bar I was relieved to find that he was cuter than I remembered and hopeful that he was just as soulful and erudite. He seemed a bit confused as I edged towards him and finally welcomed me with, "wow, I didn't recognize you at all, your face got longer". With this statement, Jordan managed to kick-start our date by accomplishing one of the most impossible feats in the universe: finding a bad way to tell a woman she lost weight. The date continued in fits and starts, running the topics-you-should-avoid-on-a-first-date gamut, from past relationships to politics to religion. Not only were our views diametrically opposed on almost every topic, his analysis of my answers went into such great depth that I simply could not remember what we were talking about in the first place. He waxed poetic about the "girlfriend" he should have married (who incidentally, was already married, making her very hard to marry but conveniently unattainable), dismissed any comment I made on the topic and then told me he still loved her. He followed that up with a series of short stories about a stable of close female friends, who all wanted more from him but whom he either had no interest in or after kissing, realized were better off left as friends. Determined to win me over, he then launched into a brief psychoanalysis of my reasons for not having written the book he remembered I wanted to write, 8 years prior and determined that I was afraid to fail. Sad as I was, the meal finally came to a close, we hugged goodbye and I went on my way. I walked around for quite a bit just to air out my head, the way you might if you just took a road trip to Canada with Rain Man.

Jordan called me a couple of times after that but I opted not to call him back. He was definitely one of the ones who got away, but not nearly far enough.

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