With all the bullets I've dodged, I'm like Wonder Woman.

With The Boy away for a week, I've had lots of thinking to be done.  To be honest, my experiences in the past with boyfriends going away have not yielded positive results.

It started with my high school boyfriend who was bipolar and didn't take his meds.  He went away on vacation and cheated.  Not 1 summer but 2 in a row.  I think he adhered to that rule about not being in the same time zone, so the cheating doesn't count.  Or maybe he blamed his meds (or lack of).  Not sure, but back then the drama of "I'm sorry - I'll never do this again" and the being treated like a princess and showered with guilt gifts was very exciting.

Then, the worst ego blow was my college boyfriend, whom I was with all throughout college and a little thereafter.  The summer after my Freshman year, he went to Italy for a month for a study abroad thing.  Basically 2 weeks into his trip, he broke up with me over the phone from Florence.  

I later found out it was so he could screw a big boobed blonde named Tina guilt free.

A week after peeling myself off the bathroom floor, dry heaving and dried out from crying (we were going to be together forever!!) I managed to get out and promptly start sleeping with a way too old for me, but still managed a music store and smoked massive quantities of pot boy named John. 

John very quickly became a bit of a stalker.  In the time before cell phones he would repeatedly call my house and leave pathetic messages on the family answering machine.  He went as far as keeping the watch I left at his house for ransom until I saw him again.

Ahh young love.

When my ex came back from his sordid romance in Florence, of course he wanted me back.  Apparently Tina Ta-Tas wasn't more than a set of boobs with blonde hair (how many times does that happen and when will these men learn?).  I, the 18 year old birdbrain I was, was happy to oblige, open arms and all.  He wasn't a stalker and it gave me an excuse to give to John: "Uh sorry, my ex came back and we decided it was meant to be forever, keep the watch, bye".

Years go by and Mr. Popularity couldn't keep his little man in his pants.  This fact, I wouldn't find out until years later when we're living together.  He'd taken a few family vacations, sans the GF (me) and I've come to find out he'd screwed Dolphin trainers in Florida, family friends in New York and little chickies that lived in his college dorm.   

I found all this out when he left his e-mail open on the computer we shared.  Vacations and weekend getaways (as well as the nights I worked) were a time for play.  Who saves e-mails from NAKED chicks from 2 years ago and then "forgets" to sign out?  Someone who wants to get caught.  He was like David Duchoveny or that dude that was married to Hally Barry.  I swore he had a sex addiction.

Where was I going with this?

Ahh yes, so now The Boy's away.  And I am calm and cool as a cucumber.  I have no fear of Dolphin trainers, family friends or any kind of fornicating while he is on this trip.  He puts my anxious heart at ease.

I think of all the bullets I've dodged in my life.  Sometimes, when I'm feeling extra introspective I'll read old journals (I have them ALL) and take myself back to the breakups.  I really try to recall that feeling of panic, pain, fear, chest tightness when you realize it's over.  The "why didn't this work out"? lament.  And I realize why it didn't work out.  He's usually sitting right next to me.  And then I take a deep breath and sniff his armpits and relax.

Past musings

I think back now to that day he moved out.  "I just need to get away for now.  I don't want this to be for good"; I didn't believe him then.  I knew it had to happen.  Hell, I moved out myself just a week before.  But I was only bluffing.  He, the well seasoned gambler he had grown to be, called my bluff.  He left with most of his stuff (the stuff I hadn't thrown out or given away to the local homeless in a fit of anger just weeks before).  He left his ties - I held on to them as a tiny smidgon of hope.  Months later I would use those ties as fashionable belts.  Break ups make me lose weight.  I was a size 2.

That day, he forced me to grow up.  Before that I lived in a world where I payed $400 a month for rent on the Upper East Side of Manhattan (unheard of), I shopped online like a fiend looking for her next fix.  I was living like a kept woman.  Those sad cases you see on the reality shows where you wonder "how the hell can they live like that??"  I was fixated on a diamond ring but terrified the day I found the Zales bag in his nightstand.  I knew deep down that I didn't want to live like that.  I just didn't know any other way.  

Today, almost four years later, I want to thank him.  For being an online pervert, for the cheating and the lying.  For the life experience he gave me.  I would thank him if we were speaking.  But that would involve me giving his ceramic Buddha back - and I destroyed that months ago when I moved into my new apartment.  I wanted no mementos.  NYC studios do not accommodate tangible memories.

I look at the woman I've become - I found my funny side, my artistic side and yes - my rent has increased significantly but I pay it.  So, maybe one day, when you're searching the Internet for some cheap porn/hookers (like you did in old times) you'll come across this post and know I just really want to thank you.  For making me the best grown-up I can be.