Wednesday, September 17, 2008

Last Chance Pizza.

Last summer, I spent my time in Provincetown, MA doing a little show. The show itself it irrelevant, but the time I spent in P-town was remarkable. 

It gave me the time I needed to be away from the city, my friends, and my cell phone. I didn't have to answer to much of anything other than the show or myself. It was just nice to have the time to give myself some time. Since I'm a huge fan of spending quality time with oneself, I found it to be quite relaxing.

Most people told me before I left, "Oh my God! You're going to get laid all the time!" Or they said various other things that all meant the same as the previous exclamation. I shrugged it all off with the hopes that I'd just get in some good beach time, a tan, and maybe a few new friends. And that's basically what happened. Until one night, while getting pizza at the only place open in P-town after 1 AM, I met him. 

His muscles were flawless, and his face beautiful. His English wasn't impeccable, but his accent was adorable. I now lovingly refer to him as "my puerto rican." That first night I met him, I didn't sleep with him. God knows I wanted to, but fate had something else in mind for me. A competition of sorts.

While speaking with him, I realized that I was competing with everyone else around him for his attention, yet, I felt that I was in the lead. I was the only one who's number he asked for, while everyone was throwing theirs at him. I also had the advantage of our cast house having a hot tub on our back patio. And since our cast enjoyed throwing hot tub parties that usually consisted of our own cast, I told him that we were having one and he should stop by. He told me he was going after more pizza, but would call me later to confirm. Well, I was slightly miffed. I thought I had missed my chance. I got home and flung my phone on my bed in the basement and went upstairs to bitch to my friends and drink. Later, I realized that I had missed a call from him, so I felt like even more of a douche. "That's it," I thought, "my chance has passed."

Not so.

The next day, I ran into him on my way to the gym. We did our quickened work outs and then spent the entire day together, parting only when I had to go to my show. Each day after followed the same. Inseparable only for my show. Granted, it was a fling, but each day was so intense that I felt that I could really have a relationship with this person. He was so sweet and wonderful and since I hadn't had a relationship in several years, I thought he was just a sign I was ready. I didn't think he was the one I could have been with, just simply a sign of fate that I was ready. And with that little sign, I kind of felt a little possessive over him. Just a touch.

Since then, he and I have parted ways, barely speaking, but from time to time I hear from him. Last I heard he is engaged. It kind of struck a chord deep in my heart. I felt a little sad. But, what's it's since taught me is to be happy for other people. To be truly happy and content with what works for them. To let go of that thought of, "maybe one day..." or "if only i had done this..." or whatever.

But, the bottom line is, I'm learning to do this. I haven't perfected it yet. It's not easy to know that your ex is dating. Hell, I have a hard time sometimes with my 'major ex' dating and he and I broke up YEARS ago, are now incredibly close and have no chance in hell of ever getting back together again. It's just weird sometimes to see him with other people. Or to know so well the places I shouldn't go. So, letting it all go can feel sad, and yet empowering. And it's kind of fun.


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