To all the men I've loved before

I know I know, I am a terrible blogger. But I am trying to be better. Slowly but surely. At least I'm posting more than one blog per year now!

Anywho...

In my last entry I had promised to dedicate my next few entries to all the men I've loved before. But for a long while, I didn't really want to. Mostly because I started to feel that none of them deserved the time it takes to write about them- that they don'tdeserve my energy. Secretly because I didn't want any of them to have the satisfaction of knowing that I still think of them from time to time. But after further thought, I realized writing about them- rather, about the few of them that are worth the time to think about- would be a cathartic experience. A way for me to clean the palate, maybe even start fresh.

So here goes nothing

and everything

Lets start with my personal favourite- The Disappearing Peruvian

He's the hardest to talk about. He's the one, the first one anyways, who made me feel special and then utterly alone all in one fell swoop. He was the first man to truely give me butterflies. And as soon as he knew those butterflies had made a permanent home in my belly, he disappeared, as though he had fell from the face of the Earth. Then, after months had passed- coincidentally always at times when important events were happening in my life- he'd reappear, only to vanish again as soon as his presence had firmly planted itself in my heart. Its a vicious cycle that I still allow to happen, many years later.

Sadly, The Disappearing Peruvian still gives me the butterflies, every once and a while.

Then there was The Teacher

The Teacher was the one person in the world more confused about life than I was. Even though we had dated a couple of times, he ended up being my first "amigo especial" (of course, he too fell off the face of the Earth inbetween dating and the other). He had way too many expectations for life though. He'd lay in bed and tell me all about his desperate searches for the meaning of life, never satisfied with the answers he'd found. After a while, I realized I was not his "amiga", but a free counsellor- with benefits! I left that situation feeling nothing but confused.

Ah The Bartender...

When my friends and I took a trip to Buenos Aires, we met a sweet bartender at our favourite resto/lounge. He was always so kind to us, making sure we could eat, even when the kitchen was closed, giving us free beer and ice cream, sitting at our table to chat when ever he had a chance. So at the end of the trip, we all exchanged emails, intending to keep in touch.

A couple weeks later, I encounted our bartender on msn. We chatted a little, and then he finaly confessed that he had had a huge crush on me the entire time I was there. At first, I was skeptical- of course he had a crush on me, he wanted a Canadian passport. But as I gotto know him (and gradually began to crush on him too) I learned he had no need of a Canadian passport, he already had a Spanish one. And so romance blossomed. We'd chat on line for hours at a time, once for an entire day, talking about everything and nothing. It got to the point where we were finishing each others sentences. This lasted for nearly a year until one day he vanished. I hadn't heard from him until December 23rd, when he texted "Merry Christmas Sweetie" It was the last thing he ever sent me.

Viva Mexico- I can't forget The Mexican

We all want a passionate summer romance, well this one was mine. He was avery good looking, well muscled, younger man whose kisses would literally knock me off my feet. To date, he is still the best kisser I have ever had. I had the most passionate summer of my life, and we never slept together. Sadly, like the summer, the relationship ended cold and miserable. I found out he had a girlfriend in Mexico (who, I'm almost certain, was still a teenager). When I called him on it, he ran for the hills, and I never heard from him again. Yet another man stricken from the face of the Earth.

Notice a pattern here?

The Italian

I still get a little teary eyed when I think of The Italian. He was the first man to break my heart. Not just break it, rip it from my chest, stomp on it, spit on it, then give it back. And sadly I still pine for him. I had a dream about him just the other night, that he had come back to me, and we were both so happy. But then I woke up.

My friends all roll their eyes when I mention The Italian, because really I only knew him for a couple of months, and it was long distance. I wish I could convey the feeling he gave me. The electricity that I know we both felt. How, when he looked in my eyes, he saw my soul and knew my thoughts.

It ended terribly

I spent a weekend with him. Unfortunately, it was his last weekend before having to move back to Italy because of work. I was prepared for the long distance thing. He was not. Instead of dealing with his feelings, he completely shut down. It was like I wasn't even there, he didn't look at me, talk to me. It was as though he no longer saw me. And the whole time I was thinking it was all fake. Everything he said to me, all fake. I was just a cheap Canadian girl, there to warm his bed for one last weekend. But when we finally said goodbye, he couldn't look me in the eye. With a red face and watery eyes, he gave me a quick peck on the lips, and then turned away.

Another one I've never heard from again.

The Baseball Player

My second amigo especial, and the one and only man who has been nothing but honest with me. Which is why, even though we never dated, I feel he deserves a mention. There is nothing better in the world, and nothing more rare, than an honest man. My baseball player never played games with me, never pretended he wanted more than he could offer, and always treated me like a lady. I don't think I've had a relationship with a more respectful man. Sadly, I had to end things because I began seeing The Boyfriend

Last and absolutely least, there was The Boyfriend

I can take a lot of abuse. You can treat me like shit, you can call me names, you can do what ever you like, and I will eventually forgive you. The one thing that I cannot tollerate, that makes me seethingly mad, is if you wast my time.

The Boyfriend wasted six months

When we started dating, it was summer. I was having a ball. Dating in the evenings, visiting The Baseball Player at night, it was great. The Boyfriend had just gotten out of a very long term relationship, so I encouraged him to also see other people, to enjoy the summer and all its splender.

But no, he didn't feel the need. He said I was so amazing, he was happy with just me. So I thought, ok, lets give it a go. I gave up dating, gave up my baseball player, and entered the monogomous life. And for a while it was nice. Not perfect, not passionate, but comfortable. Until he moved into a house with roommates. Great people, actually, I really liked them myself. The Boyfriend liked them too much, and spent every waking moment with them, ignoring old friends, ignoring me. He stood me up twice, making plans with me and then not showing up because the roommates had decided to do something more fun. Finally, he dumped me. His reason:

He had just gotten out of a long term relationship and was not ready for anything heavy.

Now, didn't I say that six months ago?

In hindsight, I realize he wasjust really lonely. I provided him with company until he no longer needed it. I knew his previous girlfriend had cheated on him, and after seeing how quick he was to leave me behind to chase after his friends, I don't blame her. I probably would have cheated on him too- I nearly did on several occasions. So I'm not angry with him for dumping me, because the relationship wouldn't have lasted anyways

I will never forgive him for wasting my summer

And, after all this, this line of disappearing and reappearing men, I wonder why I still long to be in a relationship. Is it a biological need? Am I just falling under the pressure of all my settled down peers? Or am I just lonely?

I supose this is just part of the bumpy road to becoming a grown-up.

I wish I had worn better shoes...