Marcy, Marcy, Marcy

I don't mention names on this blog. You can check back through the past months and see for yourself that I haven't written a single name. But this one, I have to put in here. Because he said it 11 times. In one hour.

In one hour, we'd walked from Penn Station towards downtown and the water. He brought me to a riverside park where we watched the boats go up and down. Saw the sunset over the bridge. Talked about politics, the economy, intelligent people, modern technology. Sat on a bench with ice cream cones, people watching and making up stories about their lives (one of my favorite games). Yet somewhere intermingled with all that stimulating conversation he managed to drop his ex's name 11 times.

I now know everything there is to know about Marcy. Marcy worked on an early Obama campaign before he was even a well-known candidate for presidency. Marcy likes Barenaked Ladies and introduced him to their music. Marcy is 5'1-5'2 and wears a size 7 shoe. Marcy likes chocolate ice cream, but only soft serve. Marcy loves going to Great Adventure but hates going on the rides. And Marcy is now dating someone whom she recently brought to a party and introduced to all their friends.

Just when I couldn't take anymore, Marcy called.

I walked away while he was still on the phone. I'm not going to spend another hour playing second fiddle to Marcy or anyone else.