Sunday, September 23, 2012
My Own Personal Mr. Big
In a way, I'm sure we all do--a guy who comes in and out of your life, gives you great sex, takes it away, breaks your heart repeatedly yet keeps you crawling back for more, in the way that makes you wonder about your dignity. And pride.. And mental health…
I was living in New York, surviving on cheap wine, bar snacks and the hope that my measly fashion internship would actually get me somewhere. I hadn't lived there long when he called. Of course he called, because it had been a while. He was going to be visiting his girlfriend and wanted to know if I wanted to meet up with them to get a drink. Oh the girlfriend, the one he so frequently threatened to cheat on for me. Well, I did love controversy, so why not?
The night eventually came and I decided I would look as New York and fabulous as I could. I put on my stilettos, sleek trench, tightest jeans and a sexy black top. He was going to be impressed and she was going to know it.
I met up with them on West 73rd, a street far from my flat in Brooklyn. I won her over immediately and he was impressed. We sat in a dark bar, chasing whiskey with vodka shots. He got honest as soon as the drinks starting flowing. He'd lean in when she'd run off to the bathroom and tell me that they were breaking up and that he still thought about me. The leans turned into kisses but I pushed him away. I wasn't looking to get punched that evening.
As the night progressed, he came up with an idea. He reminisced on our days of wild threesomes, laundry room sex and hair pulling and asked, "What if we have a threesome tonight?" I'd be lying if I said I wasn't game. Actually, I was dying to. My Mr. Big had all the same attributes that the real Mr. Big had. It was perfection, really.
I agreed, but said he had to make it happen. When she returned, he bought more shots and another round of drinks. We were drunk by the time bar closing rolled around. Now was the time to act. We were to suggest that it was unsafe for me to ride the subway alone at that time of night (it is) and that I should crash for a few hours. He would take it from there.
We stood in the street. Me teetering on my heels, she not having a word of any thing he said. I began to wonder if she had seen him trying to kiss me. He was crumbling--a side I had never seen before. They fought on the sidewalk as I edged closer to the subway. I hastily waved goodbye and ran for the train.
They fought all night and it took me two hours to get home. He texted me the next day to tell me about it and I told him I had to take care of "business" as usual. He said he wished he could have been apart of it... They left the city the next day.
This was two years ago and I haven't been face to face with that him since. He still sexts me every now and then, usually drunken, illogical. Fortunately, we still live in separate cities. It's an important and much needed distance.
Our story won't end the same as Mr. Big and Carrie. Mine usually ends at Adam & Eve , looking for something else to get the job done. I've dated plenty of people since him and am in a relationship now, but it doesn't keep him from mentally and textually coming back to haunt me. There's always something about those Mr. Bigs...