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?