You’ll never guess whom I heard from yesterday...

Does the name “Cowboy” ring a bell??

Perhaps the less-famous member of a ‘60s folk-rock duo?

I’m using a 45-day free trial of AOL right now (until I find a better option—you know how much I hate those losers), and to save time I started my account under my old IM name. So who should IM me the other night but the world-famous L’uomo col massimo pelo! It’s been so long since I’ve heard from him. The last time we communicated (over IM, of course), I was stunned by his elitism, and proud of myself for how far I’d come since college. The time before that, as you may recall, we were anxiously anticipating an amorous rendezvous, the incorporate conclusion to three years of will-they-won’t-they (which never happened, because he chickened out—his loss, so far as I’m concerned). Ah, what a soap opera my college life seems, from two years’ hindsight. Things have become rather predictable these days. But then—hell, I could probably market a series of Young Adult fiction about our psycho-history. Perhaps I should. I can see it now: “All My Theater-Geeks”...

Anyway, he IM’d me, but I didn’t see it until I was about to log off—and by then he’d already logged off. And all he wrote was something sad (but witty, of course) about “recent events in New York”. In all my thoughts since September 11th, he was one person that hadn’t come to mind. That made me feel bad! But I guess that means I’m over him, finally. And I have been, for a long time. Meeting the love of my life surely had something to do with that...

So what was with me and my humongous crushes? It pains me to think of all those boys who I obsessed over in the past—regardless of outcome, I always ended up feeling foolish. The first time was at age 15. Of course I had to pick Helen’s boyfriend to have a crush on. Then there was the nice male friend, whom I wallowed over for two years (including when I had a boyfriend) until we went away to college. The most violent crush was on my “first love”, my vegetarian Greenwich Village boy who proceeded to treat me like crap 1/3 of the time. Directly following (and mingling with) that was the aforementioned Confectionery Boy (one of the many nicknames he developed over the course of three years). We even hooked up—twice—but he refused to take things any further; this caused unending torment for me during senior year (through two boyfriends). Then there was Ken, the former pro hockey player/Adonis at the car dealership in Chapel Hill. That brings us to July 2000. I’ve been good so far since then. Maybe I’m actually getting over this. About time!

That said, I’m going to think about my boyfriend now, and how he’s brought me ten months of unending joy. He is ten thousand times better than any of those losers.

But I really should write “Do-nut Boy” back. Because of the WTC thing. And just to prove that I can do so without losing my head. And to show him how happy I am without him. :)