I couldn’t even look to see if it really was my ex-boyfriend.
My heart jumped a little and I felt spooked. While driving, I stopped at the light at the corner of Glenwood and Peace Streets. And as I turned my head to the left to see oncoming traffic, lighting flashed through my veins. The driver appeared to be my old ex, Frank.
I couldn’t look again to confirm or disconfirm. I scotched my car forward and turned right onto Glenwood. Tears came to my eyes. Frank and I dated for a year. It has been my longest relationship.
A month later I fell into a fiery relationship with Darren, not fully allowing myself to get over Frank before moving on. Although I’m over both men, I still think of Frank sometimes, wondering what he’s up to, how he is doing.
The fact that I teared up made me realize that as much fun as I’ve had going on all these dates, I’m not ready to open up, to be vulnerable, to give something of myself and hope to get something of someone else in return. I’m not ready to emotionally invest in someone again, lest I once more find myself bankrupt.
A day later I was listening to one of my favorite artists, Damien Rice. This is from his song “9 Crimes.”
It’s the wrong time
For somebody new
It’s a small crime
And I got no excuse
I knew what I had to do. Tuesday, I hung out with James. I’d already realized that although I initially found him cute, he wasn’t for me. He quit smoking for me, but that doesn’t make up for the many reasons he isn’t the man I want.
Pete called it ahead of time. He’s the fourth gentleman who threw his name into my dating hat. Even as he asked me out, he described me as “uncatchable” and “untamable.” He said he didn’t think I was in that mode. He was right. I’ll keep going on dates, but right now, I’m uncatachable, unattachable, smart-as-a-dog single Suzanne.