You & Tequila Make Me Crazy

I'm changing my name to Erica.

Ummm, I should probably explain that one?

So basically, I met this guy (we'll call him Roger) almost four years ago. My husband had moved out less than a year before and was already living with his new girlfriend. I had just gotten cheated on by my interim boyfriend and was feeling less than stellar about myself. When my girlfriend invited all her besties out for a fabulous night on the town, I said yes. I desperately needed an evening of drinks and dancing to feel like a superstar rather than a drowned rat.

Enter Roger.

We were out at a Mexican restaurant indulging in 28 ounce margaritas (I had two) and flirting across the table. He revealed that his girlfriend had broken up with him not very long before and was already seeing some other guy. He told most of this story to my chest - I was wearing a lower cut shirt than is customary for my wardrobe - as my black satin bra was somewhat visible with the little bow in the center just peeking out. Normally, my clothing reflects my sweet, conservative nature. This was not one of those nights.

Dinner was followed by my first experience at a karaoke bar (what is it with me and karaoke???) where we were no longer separated by a table. In fact, we weren't separated by much at all. The only time we took a break from making out was my turn to embarrass myself on stage with the ladies singing our rendition of a Debbie Gibson song. I use the term singing very loosely. Turns out, your favorite song from 1987 is a great idea on the train into the city. Fifty-six ounces of tequila later, the words have completely escaped your brain and standing on a raised stage may be hazardous to your health.

Thank God there is no YouTube video of this. F'ing hilarious!

Making out at the bar turned into making out outside the bar turned into my girlfriends literally pulling us apart and pouring me into a taxi. I had never gone home with a man I'd just met and despite my drunken state, I wasn't about to start now. One night stands are a bit like wearing too much glitter. Sparkly and fun at night but hard to shake off in the morning.

That night, I broke up with both tequila and glitter.

Shockingly, he called the next day, and the day after that, and the day after that. I was so proud of myself for not giving in to my alcohol induced temptation. We started a real relationship and continued dating for four months. He cooked me dinner at his apartment. He took me to fancy work parties. He walked me around the Cloisters, pointing out paintings and architecture he loved. He put on jazz music, poured chilled wine, and taught me how to play chess. He sat on a bench mid-autumn holding my hand, sharing a bag of roasted peanuts, watching the leaves change color across the river. He was the epitome of romance.

Sadly, neither his ex nor mine were completely out of the picture. We had become each other's rebound relationships without ever meaning to be. Neither of us had totally recovered from our previous heartbreak, thus rendering us incapable of dedicating our whole selves to the other person. Ultimately we split up because we were simply not ready to be together.

Sucked. Big time.

FOUR YEARS LATER

My blog has taken on a life of its own and as of this posting, I have 2,900+ fans on facebook. I've just learned how to use twitter and last week, who pops up on my new follower list but Roger!!! Ho. Ly. Crap. How did he find me???

I sent him a direct message saying "Hey! Thanks for the follow. How'd you find my blog?" to which he replies "I'm not really sure. Friends on facebook probably recommended it. Your writing is great by the way."

Ummm, I am guessing by that response he has no idea it's me.

We tweet back and forth until four in the morning. He still doesn't realize who I am.

It takes every ounce of will power I have not to tell him "Hi, I'm the girl who used to date you. Frankly, I'm a little insulted that you don't remember!" but instead we talk about all those general things two "strangers" might discuss when both are awake in the middle of the night.

The next day, I get a message from him saying "This is crazy but I feel like I know you. I think we might have met before."

No shit Sherlock!!!

"What were you doing in 2008?"

Being your girlfriend. Duh.

Finally, it hits him who I am and the entire conversation shifts. We rehash some of our good times together. He cracks a few jokes about us and we're right back where we were four years ago. I forgot how easy going he was, how comfortable he made me, how completely at ease I feel talking to him.

Then the flirting begins. *Note: I am a huge flirt. I can't help it. I have always flirted with guys, and will probably continue flirting with guys, until I am a little old lady in the nursing home and they have to wheel me away from the cute orderlies.*

The texting and flirting is innocent (Up to a point. And then... it's not so innocent.) I'm getting those butterflies in my tummy that tell me this guy is special. He makes my insides do flip flops. I am addicted to the thought of him. I can't get him out of my head. I start dreaming about him. Boy, do I have it bad!

I consulted many friends on my conundrum. Sara said that dating your own ex is a bit like eating your own leftovers after they've been in the fridge too long. (You never know if they've gone moldy or gotten freezer burn!) Robbie asked if I'd run out of men to date, thus having to recycle them. Bella believes that the right person at the wrong time is the wrong person but the right person at the right time deserves a second chance. Kat just asked why I'd want to bother with yet another man.

One of these days, one of these men isn't going to be "just another man." He won't be a frog. He will be a prince. How will I know if I don't at least try to kiss him?

Figuratively speaking of course...Ok, ok. Maybe literally speaking!

Roger has moved away from New York and up to New England. I am saddened by the thought of not being able to stroll through Central Park with him mid winter, attend the ballet, or share ravioli and chardonnay over candlelight. It is this momentary sorrow that makes me realize: I miss Roger. Dare I say it, I might actually like to be with him!

Me: So how far away are you exactly?
Roger: Two hundred and sixty two miles. Not that I'm counting.
Me: Wow. That's precise.
Roger: Yes, well a certain someone keeps reminding me.
Me: So how long does it take to drive?
Roger: About five hours. Not really easy to be home for dinner.
Me: Why would you come back for dinner?
Roger: Because I'm tired of hearing that I'm too far away.
Me: From who???
(((Long Pause)))
Me: Ummm...girlfriend?
Roger: Yes.
Me: How long?
Roger: A year and a half.
Me: Ok. Did not see that coming.
Roger: Sorry. I would have told you sooner but we were talking and flirting and it felt really nice and I didn't think anything would come of it.
Me: So now something might come of it?
Roger: I don't know. I was kind of hoping so.
Me: And what would that be?
Roger: That you'd get in the car and come up here.
Me: I would have. In a heartbeat. I can't do that now.
Roger: I know. I have never cheated on her and I would never cheat on her. I can't hurt her. I can't. But I really enjoy talking to you. Can we still talk?

So now here I am, a guy I really like on one end and my morals on the other. I've been sitting in rather high judgement of girls who "steal" other women's boyfriends through any means possible. I refuse to become one of those women. I REFUSE. But where do I draw the line? Can I keep talking to him? What are we allowed to say? And how do I put my feelings back in check now that I'm not allowed to have feelings towards him because he's taken?!?!

It's been three days of torture, texting, tweeting, and talking with him since I found out that Roger is technically off the market. I hate him for keeping it from me and I hate myself even more for wanting some part of him despite my newly acquired knowledge. There are so many factors to consider: He's not happy with her - they "break up" on the phone every other week. From everything he's told me, she sounds like a miserable cow. He's only staying with her because there's never a convenient time to break up and he feels guilty for being so far away. The fact of the matter is that if he was really that unhappy, he'd probably have broken things off already, no? We didn't really have a chance when we first dated, I wonder what it would be like now that we've both grown up? If we're just talking but I never see him, does that count as him being disloyal in his relationship?

My head is about to explode!

The short answer is: If I continue flirting with him KNOWING what I know now, I am no better than the homewrecker I outed on this blog just a few months back. I cannot sit here and say we are women and we must stick together and then carry on with another woman's boyfriend. I can't. I hold myself to the same standards I hold all of you and I wanted you to know that.

Depressing though it might be, Roger is taken. End. Of. Story.

I guess I can stay a Kimberly after all...