The Wordmistress

The Guys That Got Away

Everyone's got 'em -- the guys that got away. Those fellas you courted. Or didn't. Or wished ya did and in that in good old fashioned retrospect, you wonder, woulda? coulda? There are the serious loves -- for me, really just one: Rob from college. And there were scenarios ... like Mark who I certainly loved in a way, in a way that was combustuous for both of us.  And Adrian, Mia's dad, who I do love, but not really in a romantic way.

But there are those fellas. Like Steve who I used to work with who moved to Poland with his young wife. He and I had such a connection and I knew that we both felt it and never acted on it but it was so ironic that years later, I had a child with a young man from Poland. Or another Steve I knew who I took a writing class with and I used to drink with and hold hands with sometimes. And did we kiss? Maybe. It's hard to remember in my rapidly advancing age.

There were, in fact, a series of Steves. When I look back on the men I have known, er, that way, I realize that I have dallied with a number of Steves, Robs, Davids and Marks. Oh yes, there were other names thrown into the mix I am quite embarassed to admit. A particularly wonderful summer relationship with a Michael in New Haven stands out. But those names seem to take precedence. Interesting fact about the sexual proclivities of a middle-aged woman from the northern suburbs of Milwaukee? Or dribble drabble. You decide.

I don't know why I was moved to remember, because so often I just move forward and keep on keeping on. But I have to admit that I'm so glad that these men, these names, have moved through my life. And I do stop and wonder. Woulda? Coulda?

Direction Home

About 20 years ago my parents called me and asked me if I wanted a lamp. I was in year 3 of 6 glorious years of college in Madison. I said sure, thinking I would get it the next time I was in Milwaukee. This was before the age of Caller ID. They said they'd be there in five minutes.

Ten minutes later, they pulled up in a moving truck. Unbeknownst to me, they had sold the house I grew up in and packed it up, moving much of what they wanted to salvage to Las Vegas. My mom was moving out there with my brother Ross, who had been bouncing around from college to college; my Dad would remain behind. Would I also like a pair of couches?

Yes, this was typical Kurzer behavior. My parents always operated on the assumption that the less we knew, the better. My brother and I often came home after school on a Friday to find $100 on the table and a note that they'd be home late. Once we realized that late meant Sunday night, we soon became the destination for last-minute parties. My parents' behavior was not without its perks.

My roommates and I took the couches and my mom moved to Vegas. My mom bought a little house and, to the envy of friends and lovers, I was able to fly off to Vegas on a whim for much of the next decade. My parents were able to maintain a weird, strangely cosmopolitan, cross-country relationship, but when my Dad had a quadruple bypass about eight years ago, my mom sold her house, put her stuff in storage and moved back.

Fast forward to this weekend. Dutiful daughter, setting off on a journey to unlock the secrets of the long-locked storage unit. My parents paid monthly on that unit for eight years, nursing the futile notion that they would return to the arid climes of the desert. It just wasn't meant to be.

Ever since I was a little girl, there was this coffee table that I wanted. I used to tell my mom that when she was gone, I would claim that table for my own. I must have been talking about that table for 25 years. I guess this is my lucky day.

I am leaving tomorrow evening and returning Sunday. It's actually the first time I've ever left town without Mia. It's the first time I will be in Vegas since my mom left. And for some reason, I've booked myself in a wild card hotel. I didn't want to stay in a casino so I chose a place off-site, with mixed reviews. I guess I have this image of driving up to a kind of divey type hotel with only my backpack by my side; it seems like that would make sense. But if the rooms are dirty, I will freak.

And so I will embark on my trip. A journey back in order to go forward. And possibly a late night trek across a lit-up town in search of alternative housing to punctuate the oh, so dramatic poignancy of it all.

Baby Daddy

So basically here is the story of Mia's dad: Adrian.

I met Adrian in the summer of July 2001, shortly after I lost my job working many, many years for an interactive ad agency. He was (and still sometimes is) my neighbor, living with his mom and her boyfriend in the apartment building next door. Cute, Polish and, er, 17 years younger than me. At the time: 21. Don't feel sorry for the young tyke, he had been around quite a bit and I don't really want to get into the particulars. Suffice to say I was not taking advantage of him. On the contrary, we fell into a rather steamy affair that lasted well past the summer romance I intended. Adrian is very sweet, very earnest and I liked him very much, but this type of affair had to end at some point because we simply didn't have anything (besides an incredibly strong chemical attraction) in common. So I broke it off with him.

But ... surely you've heard of break up sex. Y'know, the kind where you might as well get together one or two more times cause you know you're never going to again and you might as well because that wasn't ever the problem? So we did ... one ... or two more times. And that, as they say, did the trick.

When I first started sleeping with Adrian, I was very careful about using birth control. But I also told him that if, for some accidental reason, I did get pregnant, I would most certainly have a child. He wasn't crazy about this scenario but I told him that I'd do the whole thing myself, not involve him, etc. He was dubious, but I explained to him that at my age, if I got pregnant, I was pretty resolved that it would be a blessing, a sign, etc. Anyway, the chances of something like that happening were pretty remote because ...

A few times where I felt that we had unprotected sex that was very risky for pregnancy, I actually took the morning after pill. Then I went ahead and actually went on the birth control pill for most of our relationship. It was near the end of our affair that I said to myself, why am I, at 39, taking birth control? It's crazy. So I broke up with Adrian, and went off the pill. Enter procreation just a couple of weeks later. The odds were against conception.

But when I told Adrian about Mia he had known me for quite a while by then, nearly a year, and I think he trusted that I was doing the right thing by bringing Mia into the world. It's actually remarkable how much Adrian and his mom respect my privacy. It's an awkward situation, but I certainly haven't shut them out of her life. I think as Adrian gets older, he will become a little more mature in his relationships and find a way to relate to Mia and if Mia wants that and/or feels like she needs it, then that would be great! As weird as it might sound, my relationship with Adrian has morphed into a more motherly or big sister role ... he needs a lot of guidance in his life.

Okay then. Purge and Repeat.