I’ve been thinking about the alternate me’s that are with the women I’ve genuinely wanted to date. Or if the ones I wanted to be strictly casual with is still sleeping with me while we look for other partners.
I’ve been wondering if the ones I wanted to be long-term with and I have been dating for 13 years. Best friends; why change what we have. The mother of my first child. The one I should have been breaking up with now so my thirties were spent on my second “great love.”
And then I thought, “what if men do this because they want to ‘try on’ what married life could be like.” Am I one of those guys, and that’s why nothing ever works out? Because it’s not supposed to. Not just for my outward appearance but perhaps I was one of the chosen sacrifices of the population that’s “alone.” Perhaps when I said this you immediately thought of some movie/show that depicts this. And that’s the visual representation that I’m attempting to manifest into words. The buildup of Lorelei and Luke, but you’re actual lovers.
Been thinking about the ones that cheated on me and I stayed like a “deer in headlights” accepts death. And the ones I cheated on in revenge but kept it a secret because the longevity of the secret is sweeter “petty” than throwing it in their face right away. Sauce, marinating in the back of the cabinet. Warm, smooth, tangy at the back of the throat. The sheer pettiness of it so savory. It’s a reveal at a family gathering as one of those blows they’ll never come back from. Because she killed you, and you wanted her dead too.
There’s a girl I met at the age of 19 who was 17. She told me she had had three successive miscarriages and at her current age still wanted to get married and have a baby, but get pregnant first. I wonder if the me who went through wth it has a son or two, or a combo of older daughter-young son or older son-younger daughter. Is he happy? Is she the 13-year relationship I mentioned above? Did he develop a substance problem; drinking like he said he never would because of his stepfather. Or marijuana to make life tolerable.
Perhaps this is what deja vu is; lives you’re living on another timeline finally catching up to you. Maybe that’s why, for some men, the feel of a woman changes. For others, it’s home. Maybe, on another timeline, she was home. How do you go back to a place you’ve never been?