Friday, August 9, 2013
I Met My Old Boyfriend on the Front Page of the Local Online Newspaper This Morning
Okay, so Paul Simon is never gonna win a Grammy if I let him use my song lyrics. He can just get over it. Go for a ride with Billy Joel.
Yes, this morning I clicked on the link for my free morning dose of Backroads news and gossip, and there he was. I didn't recognize him at first. He was holding a big fish. That's not a euphemism for something more racy. It was an actual fish. In another country. I only read the article because it had the words "local author" in the title. And there, under the picture, was his name. MY OLD BOYFRIEND! Okay, that's not his actual given name. What kind of mother would name her son MY OLD BOYFRIEND? One who by happenstance marries a man with a surname of BOYFRIEND, perhaps. But how likely is that, really?
Yes, there he was. After I had just been thinking about him yesterday. Not thinking about him in a way that is tantamount to the betrayal of my significant other, one mister Hick Thevictorian. No, thinking about him as a minor character in a story about dating. Well, not so much a story, as a true account of a really doomed date. The more I thought about it, the more I talked myself out of the effort. Listen, Val, he would have to sign a release. Have you even heard from him in all these many years? No. He could be all the way off in a big city, pursuing his journalistic dream. Or in a hut on a tropical island, sipping lemongrass tea from a turtle shell with 106-year-old Amelia Earhart, discussing last week's visit from Jimmy Hoffa. It's really not a good idea. Move along.
Funny how a thread from life's rich tapestry can unravel and near amputate your pinky toe, without a hipster doofus in sight to put it on ice in a Cracker Jack box and rush you to the hospital on a city bus, while making all the stops.
Funny how the fact that this dude has been living within ten miles of me, and is easily contactable to request a signed release makes me REALLY not want to pursue the tale.
I keep trying to tell myself that my plummeting ambition had nothing to do with the words award winning...writer in the first sentence.