And to think I owe it all to the Ex.
Throughout half of the 90's I was in a dysfunctional relationship. The wheels finally flew off and the whole thing imploded in 1997. It was bitter at first, but soon we were civil to each other. It was the relationship that was bad, not him, and within a few years we were friends again, which was easier to do since he had moved to Northern California and there was zero chance of running into each other.
For the next five years he burned through a succession of new boyfriends while I remained single. Not necessarily by choice. Somewhere along the line I had become a freak magnet and my dating life was a disaster. Ultimately I just threw in the towel. I think the final straw was Mark, the "Adult Baby". That date seemed to be going so well up until he asked me to diaper him. After that I was pretty much resigned to a life alone, and to be honest I was actually OK with it.
So flash forward to Labor Day weekend, 2002.
Most of my plans had fallen through with the exception of a Saturday pool party in the Hollywood Hills. That proved to be a demoralizing experience being probably the oldest person there, surrounded by impossibly beautiful 20somethings. I left early and got home around 6 and the phone rang.
It was the Ex.
He and his boyfriend of the moment and about a half dozen friends were out in Palm Springs for the weekend. One of the friends had cancelled at the last moment, but the room was already paid for, so he extended an invitation to come out and join them.
So I went.
They were staying in one of the many small gay resorts in Palm Springs. It would never be mistaken for a Ritz Carlton, that's for sure. Or even a Motel 8. But what it lacked in amenities it more than made up for in, how shall we say... opportunities.
So there I was, on a lovely Sunday afternoon, September 1st, minding my own business when I ran into... the boyfriend.
In the jacuzzi.
I was smitten immediately and I hoped he was too. We hung out for most of the rest of the weekend. I gave him my business card as I was packing to leave, never thinking for a second he would actually call me. So imagine my surprise when he did the following day. We planned our first date for that Friday. He was living, ironically enough, in OC. I was living in LA. He drove up that Friday for dinner.
And basically, he never left.
And here we are, ten years later.
I love him now more than ever. I can't imagine my life without him. And I miss him desperately.
Happy anniversary honey... I love you.
