Like an old comfy sweatshirt
He was the guy who had a motorcycle when you were 19. You met him in university, at a party, you recall, some murky place where everyone was swimming through the darkness with a beer in hand, and then you were talking and next you know, you were dating.
He was fun, and you remember being in a house he shared with a bunch of other guys. They cooked huge pots of spaghetti, and it seemed everyone of them was bonking his girlfriend in his room at night, sometimes with the door (mistakenly) opened.
You loved it, though, the house, the people, the freedom, the friends, and this being the time of your life. You talked a lot to your boyfriend. He would take you down to the river on his motorcycle, and you would watch the birds and read whatever books you were supposed to be reading for your courses. You loved holding onto him on the back of his motorcycle. Once, you went on a longish road trip with him into the wilderness. He loved nature, too. Yes, you remember that, the motorcycle, the wind, holding his back, sleeping in a tent with him, the pebbles rubbing into your back.
He kept photographs of you in a special folder. You know this, because later, a few years after you had broken up, you ran into him, and you had dinner together, because you wanted to, and because you both had time. Neither of you were married then. He told you about what he called The Gracie File – all these pictures of you he had kept, and periodically looked through. He clearly had loved you – and maybe still did. But you had been restless when you were together, for that six months or so, when you were 19. Still, just to see what it would feel like – to reunite with a lover you had moved on from – you slept with him that night. It was lovely – but that was it. You didn’t stay in touch. You were both in that busy, building period of your lives. You lived in separate cities. A few years later, you both married other people. Had kids. Settled down.
Now, almost twenty years have gone by, and you are divorced. He isn’t. He is married to the same woman – has been for 21 years. Has two kids, both grown. But he contacted you, out of the blue. Saw a profile of you online. I’m coming to town, he wrote. In October. Want to meet?
It’s a funny dynamic – seeing old flames. You had your reasons for not staying together. Still, there is that familiarity. And when you are single again, and hurting a bit, there is some weird comfort about digging up old boyfriends, just to revisit them – how they are different or the same as the man you ended up marrying (and divorcing.) Maybe, we are interested in old flames to contemplate the avenues of our heart – where we stopped, why, for how long, and with whom. In divorce, we do a sort of mapping of our hearts.
You do not want to start anything with him. He is married, and you have no intention of stepping in to mess up his life. But he contacted you. Maybe he figures, Ah, she is single, I will will see if she still wants to…..And maybe he is unhappy in his marriage. What could be the harm in seeing him?
You have friends who have told you to recycle the old boyfriends. It’s a fast way to intimacy, they say. He knows you. You don’t have to do anything to impress him. You will laugh about the same old things. He might even remember your habits and you his with some fondness. Nobody changes much in 20 years, except maybe their hair and their political views. At least for a night it could be fun . He’s an old comfortable sweatshirt to cuddle up in.
Well, he arrives in a few weeks. I’ll at least have a drink to catch up on old times.
And as for Sir Likealot, the man I met a few weeks back….I’m seeing him for a second date this week.
It’s raining men, baby.
