The Girl I Used to Be

Since Venus is now in retrograde, this week's posts are all about relationships. Remember that episode of 'Sex and the City' where Charlotte laments that she's been dating for 20 years and where is he already? Well, I've been feeling like that alot lately.




Back when I was 26, I met the Australian cowboy. This guy was seriously hot, a former member of the SAS, gymnast and personal trainer. He'd just played Iago in a production of 'Othello' that my BFF had had a small part in. She thought that we would be great together.





So we threw this awesome party at the art gallery that my BFF's boyfriend owned (that's another story). And he came and totally didn't notice me until the end when he was leaving and I said good-bye and he asked me my name. I was devastated, and determined that the next time he saw me, he would remember me.



Not only would he remember me, but he would want me so bad, he couldn't see straight. Not once did occur to me that I couldn't make this happen, or that he wouldn't want me, or even that it might not be a good idea, being that he had just gotten out of a bad marriage and all (that's another story). I'd made my mind up. I wanted the guy who'd pulled a bottle of Jack Daniel's out of his boot (I thought that was incredibly sexy).


Long story short, I went and rented a cute little Lady Buccaneer outfit to wear to this Halloween party that we threw (my BFF and I were big on throwing parties back in the day). Short red coat, lacy shirt, and thigh high black suede boots. You get the picture. Without even touching the Cowboy, I made him want me (Trust me this is a skill). By the end of the evening, he was dying for me. Not only that but I had somehow attracted the notice of a 21 year old artist friend of the BFF (he painted gargoyles and cars) who declared his lust for me at the end of the evening (Hey 2 for 1!).




What happened to that girl? Is it getting older? Becoming more cynical about relationships? One too many bad first dates? (oooh, great title for a book). Ever since ex-sweetie and I finally gave up the ghost on our relationship 4 years ago, I've found it harder and harder to be optimistic about finding someone else.



Case in point, I'm so afraid of being rejected, I've been holding back on the mojo. It's like I'd rather not even try to let someone know I like them, that way they can't give that 'I'm just not interested' or even worse, 'It's not you, it's me,' speech. Or I give off mixed signals that he's not even getting.



Just last week, I was wearing this incredibly sexy Banana Republic dress, and the only compliment I got was from the homeless guy in front of Barnes and Noble. Although, apparently this young guy who writes for the NYT was checking me out at the Grey Gardens screening, but I was so oblivious that I didn't notice. My friend had to tell me. Of course, he could just have been wondering why I was wearing a dress with a plunging neckline to a movie screening.





See what I mean? I can't even allow myself to get my hopes up anymore with a guy that I meet that I'm attracted to.



I think that's why I like on-line dating. I can send as many ice breakers as I want on Yahoo Personals, and if I don't hear anything, it's no loss. I haven't really risked anything. They don't know me, and I don't know them. But put me in a real situation, and I'm dead meat. But I have to keep trying, because Mr. Right isn't going to come knocking on my door while I'm sitting in my night gown watching 'Pride and Prejudice' with Colin Firth for the 15th time. I have to somehow keep hoping.





A psychic astrologer told me recently that she sees me ending up with a bitter and angry writer who's a semi-recluse, who doesn't live in the city and is flying under the radar right now.


I can hardly wait. Yeah me!



EKM