Re: What Really Matters Is What You Like, Not What You Are Like...

...Books, records, films -- these things matter. Call me shallow but it's the fuckin' truth. - High Fidelity

I'm having a High Fidelity moment. After learning on Friday that my first love is officially engaged, in that he finally compiled the necessary funds to purchase a ring as opposed to snorting it up his nose, I have decided to take stock in my past relationships. Where did they go wrong? Was I to blame? And why am I not the marrying kind?

As I rack my brain as to what adjective pops up the most, "bitch," although unoriginal and boring, seems to be a favorite of those who have graced my life with their presence. High school boyfriend John M., unceremoniously, blocked me on FB, but not before telling me he was taking some other high school "friends" with him, because I talked shit about him in an article. I may have said in passing that losing my virginity sucked... yes, it was with him and yeah, it sucked; not because of him, but because it usually sucks. John is now living in Maine with a woman who looks like a foot.

Chris S. we can't ask because most of us are quite certain he is dead, as the last time he was spotted by a mutual friend, he was drunk in a bar in Boston planning to start his career in drug smuggling.

Dan D. put me in the "bitch" category after I dumped him for being poor (I was 19, so sue me), and what became of him is also up for debate although I'm sure he's in NH somewhere with a bunch of kids. At last check-in, he had impregnated a chick. Both Todd B. and Mike G. are now married, and I'm going to chalk that up to the fact that we dated a long time ago when we were too young to marry and you can't base a relationship on bad poetry and one Sunny Day Real Estate album. Matt S. married the girl he dumped me for--she was the lead singer in his band. They have a darling daughter, live in Boston and he now likes sports. The night we broke up I asked what it was about Mary, the lead singer, that she had that I didn't... a typical question you ask in the moment, but regret later. The answer? "She's more my style."

Timothy, whom I saw this past Friday, told me I was too complicated, lovable and fun, but not "simple" enough. Ben L. pursued me and tried to get me to run away with him just before his wedding (as we've covered recently), and even after marriage continues to pop up, but not for marriage, more for, well, I don't know what.

John B. was too much younger than I.

W the Bartender, is also married and has a kid, although according to my friend Thal (she saw him on the subway), its gender is that of mystery because it's so "wonky looking," and to continue to use her words: "you dodged a bullet there." And it's not as though I was going to have something long term with someone whose favorite book is The Da Vinci Code. Thom, was one of those setup situations that went off and on for about 10 months just out of sheer boredom, and well, don't know what happened to him, nor do I care, so I'm not about to track him down and check his relationship status. And these are the ones in my life who lasted longer than 6 months... all others, will not be accounted for.

Although I would like to sit down and ask questions, as it's both self-involved and shallow to assume it was you in each equation and therefore totally up my alley, I guess the truth is I wouldn't want to have married any of them anyway. I guess I just would have wanted them to ask, since in four of these cases, it was the relationship after the one I had with these people that resulted in marriage.

So that's where I am this week: In my pajamas, a pile of freelance topics to cover and my brain focused on me, me, me... but I don't think I'm a whackjob to want to know the specifics. When all you have is "you're not my style" and "you're not simple enough," to go on, it really doesn't help...

xo.Mandy.

new Pomegranate Seeds: Irrefragable.