Ever Do That Thing Where You Fall In Love With the Wrong Person?

Like, Twice?

Dr. Anita


Image by Dennis M. White on Flickr

The three us us were on a blanket, having a picnic dinner in Joshua Tree. We were at a retreat.

Steve was my boyfriend. You were my new love interest.

We had made your acquaintance that afternoon at the pool.

I watched you from the outdoor shower as you emerged from the men’s dressing room.

I saw you seize up the situation of a mostly vacant area and plop your stuff down two lounge chairs away from Steve. In that whole, empty pool-scape, you chose to be near him.

I wondered.

Stevel did have a nice body. I was drawn to it as well.

You had my attention even before you “chose” Steve. A triad of a slight limp, hint of pudgy love handles clinging to your sides, and a messy, sculpted hair-cut — you seemed interesting. But, mostly tired.

Like me.

I gave you a minute to be near Steve’s near-naked body, alone. Then I came over, the proud girlfriend. I sidled into a lounge chair near Steve. I pretended you didn’t exist.

I read my book as I read you.

One of us said something.

And now, here we were, at dinner. The couple from from Bend, Oregon and you, the manger of Channing Tatum, from L.A.

Skull rock sat in the distance, a string of orange sky behind it, highlighting the smooth edges.

I asked everyone who their favorite author was.

I couldn’t wait to hear your’s.

And have you hear mine.

I only remember Steve’s answer.

Edgar Allen Poe.


The next day, I said to you in private, “Really? Edgar Allen Poe? He’s never even mentioned him before! Edgar Allen Poe is old! And crazy! How could that be his favorite author?”

And then, as if this issue led to the other, I said, “I just worry that my boyfriend is too boring for me.”

You didn’t seem concerned. Or convinced, rather.



Dr. Anita

Doctor by trade; artist at heart. Musings on life. Enjoy inserting humor ‘n hope into the pain. Quiet is scarce in this day and age; reaching for it.