Currently Chasing: Something A Little Less Strange

I got an email from my dead ex-boyfriend. He just wanted to write to me from the grave and say Hi just in case I was starting to forget about him and move on with my life. But I’ll probably write him back because I’m a masochist.

It’s funny he would write out of the blue because my mother (whom I recently saw on my visit to California) has been keeping up with my Facebook and the first thing out of her mouth was …

“What happened to that nice boy you were in love with?”

First of all, what nice boy are you talking about? Secondly, he died … virtually.

So my mom said. “Well that didn’t last very long.”

So I say … about two weeks.

And my dad says, “so this was one of the more serious relationships you’ve had?”

Yes father, that’s right, this was one of those long term things. Also here’s your knife. I can’t breathe with it stuck in my throat!

This is an example of parental facial rape. I didn’t even see it coming and yet I’m left vulnerable and I can’t find my shoe.

So the reason I’m even in California is because I’m attending a sexual assault response and prevention course. Hence the reason I could identify immediately the above face rape. Anyway, there is a guy in there that has been married three time, has a couple of kids from women other than those three wives, makes jokes in class that are centered around his ignorance and he dips. So why wouldn’t he ask me out?

But I said no. I didn’t think it had the two-week potential I require before falling in love. So why bother.

So anyway, a day later I get a frantic Facebook message from a male friend of mine whom I haven’t seen in years. He is wondering if I’ve already left on my journey overseas and is pretty pissed that I didn’t say goodbye. So I write him and let him know that I haven’t left quite yet, but soon.

So he confesses … I’m madly in love with you and I think we should get married.

I gotta hear this logic. Although I must say, the idea is intriguing. Especially since everyone in my life has been getting married, separated or divorced. Agreeing to marriage feels about as permanent as a spray on tan. But less orangy.

He said, “Look, we’ve been keeping in touch for years and we’ve never even slept together. It’s obvious that we care about each other mentally and emotionally. So just come visit me and if we click physically then … let’s get married.”

Wow, I’ve heard of the “just tell her you love her” line to get a woman into bed, but “just tell her you’ll marry her?” That’s a bit out there.

Here are the facts, he roughly my age (which is rare!), he’s got a good job, he saves money, he plans on being fully ready to retire at 45, he’s tall, he’s funny, he’s smart and he doesn’t believe in cheating (although threesomes aren’t cheating, according to him.) And oh yeah, he’s an alcoholic. Or ‘passionate’ as he likes to call it.

So we dive into this threesome thing a bit and I tell him my theory on threesomes. He tells me that my theory is way off and that men sometimes just need another woman and that I can pick someone uglier than me if I’d like. So I say, ok, what if instead of an ugly woman, I just pick a man?

He assures me it’s not the same thing. Well no shit.

So he explains: “Men sleep with other women for PURELY physical reasons. It has nothing to do with love. However, women ONLY sleep with other men when they are not being emotionally fulfilled. So if you are sleeping with another man then there is something I’m not doing right, and I’ll fix it.”

Then he said something pretty profound.

When sex in a relationship is bad then sex becomes 90 percent of the relationship. But when sex is a relationship is great then sex becomes only 10 percent of the relationship. In other words, the better your sex life is, the less likely your man is to run around on you.

But I don’t buy it. It seems like the whole world is posting a Craig’s list add, “Desperately Seeking Strange.”

I mean, I must have that ad posted on the back of my shirt, cause lord knows strange finds me.

So It’s possible I’m engaged right now to a man I’ve never slept with and will most likely never see again. And that's not strange at all. Just desperate.