I am...a New Yorker

[Previous entry: "Not Clever With the Titles"]

Saturday, July 7, 2001
Trawlng My Past for Gems


Of Deborah Harry and Chris Sten screwng n the bathroom of CBGB, as I always do when I pass it.


Rob, my victim of the week, was n most of my political science classes. Unlike myself, he fnished his degree, earned a Master's and has a real job. Let's hear it for the boy!

I am...quantum-leapng back through my own personal history, puttng right what once went wrong. My only guide on this journey is a hollogram named Al...no, wait, as the first time I reman without guidance of any knd.

I've been on this quest for a couple of years, actually. It started with my last contact with my father, askng if I wanted him to send the nformation on my 10 year high school reunion. I'd been datng a guy who raved about gong to his the year before, of healng old wounds and ganng new perception on old events, so I said yes.

Shortly thereafter, my dad died, my boyfriend broke up with me (but ncluded me on a mass email about his new "partner," natch). I considered gong to my reunion, but snce I'd used up most of my vacation days related to my father's death and his illness the previous wnter, I decided to save the last few days so I could be with my mom and bro for Christmas. Instead, I sent a boxful of Britney Spears and Backstreet Boys CDs, you know, when you care to send the very best.

It wasn't too long after that when I was quite happily laid off. I returned to Southern California, lived with my mom for a year and got back n touch with lots of old friends. Actually, mostly just Jennifer, but I'm pretty happy we're close agan. It's funny, but most people flaked out agan and agan, so I gave up puttng n all the effort after a while.

I don't thnk I remembered to look up Rob until the last month or two. I always wondered how he was, but, forgettng 7 years had passed snce I saw him, I figured he still lived with his parents. So I didn't thnk to call until the other night when I was addng someone nto my Palm and noticed his number there. I figured, "what the heck?!"

We had a great talk and it confirmed what I always thought about Rob -- that he was a bit of a lost opportunity. Rob, unfortunately, came along durng the long and tragic Eric era, durng which I became even more convnced than ever that men were repulsed by me. That was no great match with Rob's theory that women don't dig nice guys.

Of course, the problem is there is a veritable army of pricks usng that very lne. Rob was and ndeed still seems quite nice. He's smart as hell, geeky like me and makes me laugh. What more could a 21 year old girl want?

A little aggression, unlikely though it would seem. I'm no fan of bohunks and cavemen, but as her royal Britneyness put it, give me a sign. We kissed twice, events regretfullly lnked forever n my mnd with the off-year election when the Republican mafia put out its Contract on America.

The first time, I thnk he apologized. the second, he said it was wrong. So I figured, like Eric he had that nasty Orange County habit of datng "nice girls" who didn't put out and was lookng for a little on the side and felt guilty about it.

What I fnd out now is that, years later, regrets beng stupid when he was young and not askng me out. He said he bets I'm probably still "cute." I walked around feelng like an unfuckable wildebeast all durng college, only to fnd out the sweet, smart, sarcastic geek of my dreams was just as unsure of himself. So now what?!

Youth, not to mention perky breasts and firm tummies, is ndeed wasted on the young.

[Next entry: "Readng Agan, Fnally"]
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