all men are liars

more than once, i've danced to this song at a wedding and drunkenly wondered the odds of that particular union succeeding. i mean, really? your first official party as mr. and mrs. and bridezilla includes that on the playlist?

i don't check my voicemail everyday, i look at the caller id. lots of "unavailables" and "privates" and "out of areas". anybody i'd like to talk to would call my cell anyway. plowing through the cache last week, i heard a gruff voice who only called himself a "blast from the past". now, if anybody reading this knows me, that doesn't really narrow it down much. it wasn't until the third message and the familiar whine of "geeze, aren't you ever home?" that i pieced it together.

back story:

it has been close to 20 years since we first met. with friends at one of our usual haunts i was on the prowl. i saw him and decided. mercenary that i was, he didn't really have a choice. he wasn't the first, nor would he be the last, to be surprised at how open i was about what i was after, and no surprise to me he ditched his friends when he realized he'd hit the jackpot. my apartment was walking distance, on a posh street in a swanky building.

he wasn't allowed to stay over and i didn't give him my number, but a few weeks later, aided by liquid courage, he rang the bell. his luck, because i'd just gotten home from work. "ya know, this isn't the first time i've come by. aren't you ever home?" he was cute, it had been fun, so i let him in. after a few more visits proved his dedication and capacities, i surrendered my phone number. i made no secret that there would be times he wasn't welcome and more than once i shooed him out because i had plans for which he was making me late. he was a sport about it, i'll give him that, even when he expressed a rather puritanical astonishment. i mean, c'mon, i let you come by and told you we had less than an hour before i had a date. put on your pants and get the hell out, ok?

this went on for years. whenever i asked if he was seeing somebody, he'd ALWAYS say, "not really." i knew it was less than true, but if he felt like she (or they) didn't warrant mention, so be it. whenever i was in a fit of monogamy, he politely stayed away. he'd check in every few months to see if the coast had cleared. when it had, he'd be right back over. all those years, i never once called him or visited where he lived. i never even asked. over time, i met many of his friends all of whom expressed amazement at "how long" i'd been around. lol. if they only knew what i was doing around elsewhere.

after i finally extricated myself from the alcoholic latino, b. rang me up just days after e. had moved out. i swear he was over to my house in minutes. did he call from, like, around the corner? he had been seriously involved with somebody too, but that was over now. how he'd missed me. how he couldn't believe all those years how lucky he'd been to have me. how he loved me. WHAT? since when? almost from when i met you. um, you never thought to mention it? he had wanted to get his career in motion, get settled, be more serious and then see where i was in my life. i called crock of shit. he didn't care what i believed, he was saying it now and could we be together? i was very jagged from my break-up and said i have no idea. we both were living on the north shore then, and his house wasn't far. he confessed having stalked my house more than once. um, creepy tmi, tyvm.

we saw each other more frequently then we ever had. it was strange, but in a nice way. i almost started to relax.

one morning in bed. he swore his love again. i had yet to say it. then he dropped one of the biggest bombs possible. "i'm going to get married." i nearly vomited. the one from before had given an ultimatum. blah blah. he was still talking when i told him to please stop talking. i don't care what she said to you, or "is making you do." get out. but-but-but. get out. i couldn't allow him the pressure valve of confession. (long ago, i learned the power in that little maneuver, lol.)

he called shortly after they'd had a baby. no. i do not want to see you. i was involved with the owner. i certainly didn't need another married man in my life. jeebus. he was friendly and jokey as always. i was frosty to say the least. "i still care about you." "no, you just wanna get laid." "well, i'd come over if you let me." "um, no."

best estimate, that call was about five years ago.

i don't know how long it's been since he's crossed my mind, but it doesn't surprise me that he's again sniffing around. now he's got three kids. he's been looking all over for me. he's found the google stuff, of course, but seemed surprised i wasn't on facebook. i'm not on facebook so people like you can't find me. he's been here. i wasn't home. really, no surprise to either, right? "i'd come over if you let me." no surprise there and you suck. "um, no." bitching about his kids. complaining about his wife. she's not that nice to me -- not like you always were. "we all make choices." how he shouldn't have let me go. "you never had me." but could i have had? "it doesn't matter now." he just would like to know. "it doesn't matter, and either way, i'm glad it didn't happen." he assumed that i wouldn't let him at me because i had a man. "i do, he's a good one, we've been together a very long time. that's not why you can't come over."

he was sitting in the dark, in the driveway of his rambling farmhouse. it was late. his kids and likely his wife all asleep. some of his friends still ask about me and why he hadn't married me.he was whining about the life that he had chosen and how he wished it was different. how he thought it might have been better.

please stop.

we all make choices.

he assured me he will call again. i assured him i don't care.