What brought this to mind, you ask? The pleasant fact that my cousin Priya recently informed me that my ex, Andre and his new girlfriend have devoted their myspace pages to each other. Priya and Andre were always friends, but don’t speak now (of course – chicks before dicks) but they’re still on each other’s top 8.
“Okay, Raj, I saw the new girlfriend’s picture and umm…” Priya said, biting her lower lip, “It’s not pretty. She’s not…well, she doesn’t hold a candle to you. Not even a little candle.”
“You know I don’t care about how she looks. Come on now,” I felt myself tremble a little as I approached the next question. “But, they’re…well they really look happy together?”
“Yea,” she looked apologetic. “She’s got a kid. And there are pictures of all of them together. And he calls her his empress. I’m sorry – is this too much for you? You want to know this stuff right? You need to hear it.”
I was a little nauseous at this point, but of-freakin-course I needed this info to truly push him out of my mind. A kid? Holy crap, he can’t even handle himself emotionally, financially…now he’s going to help this woman raise her kid? Okay, Rajul, back off – this is none of your business.
Empress? Wow. It’s official. Andre has no originality. He couldn’t even pick new affectionate titles for his new girlfriend. Screw everything else - that’s what really sickened me out of this whole myspace page story. I think it's because I'm a writer and this was like titling your new best-selling novel...the same title as your last best-selling novel.
How many men just go through relationships recycling details from the last one?
And this was just mere weeks after Andre had confessed to me on the phone that the new chick in his life “will never be half the woman you are, Rajul.”
Ann was brought into this conversation later, and we banged out a serious long distance bill discussing this topic.
“ I NEVER rollover nicknames, special restaurants, “our” songs, or anything like that from my last guy to a new one. That’s just poor sportsmanship. And he calls himself an athlete. Come on, up your game! Keep it fresh!” I ranted.
“Rajul, listen to me,” Ann said in her get-ahold-of-yourself tone. “You are not like him. You were raised differently. You are secure in your concept of love. You don’t need to bullshit – you give the real thing every time.”
I let it marinate for a minute. And I felt better. I realized that though my emotional nature might get me into trouble sometimes, it’s so much better than being generic. I’m the Louis Vuitton to his Payless. I hate to say it like that but when something’s cheap, it’s cheap. And claiming every new girl is your “empress” – that’s clearance rack cheap.
Every new man that means anything to me (there haven’t been many despite the dating exploration) represents something fresh in my life. If Brian McKnight’s “Find Myself in You” plays and it reminds me of you…trust me, it reminds me of only you.
So ladies (and gentlemen – I see you, Maurice), if you find that he’s given up the goods to some one new and you’re still being choosey…it’s because your goods are probably worth a whole lot more than his.
Hot date tomorrow, and I’m leaving my stank face at home for this one. I’m bringing my goods instead. (Get your mind out the gutter! I meant my charming smile.)