Karma is stalking our hero. If you recall, I seem of late to be haunted by ghosts of a former life. I didn�t mention it in that particular entry, but a few months back I was entering that bastion of thrifty, all-purpose shopping, Target, when I recognized a girl in one of the checkout lanes. She recognized me, too, although she was unable to attach a name to my face (I heard her as she turned to her male companion and said, �I THINK I KNOW THAT GUY,� in this totally not-subtle-at-all kind of way, which isn�t surprising since �subtle� was never one of her mastered skills). I, on the other hand, had her name in a flash. And was gone in a flash, too, because I didn�t want to stick around should the missile touch down while I was still around.
Not that she�d have said anything to me if she did remember who I was. She hated my best friend back in college, and by extension me, and any exchange between us would have been awkward and stilted even without the whole �she�s still good friends with all the friends I thought were good friends before I learned that maybe they didn�t think we were as good of friends as I�d thought we were, evidenced by their completely forgetting all about me the second I picked up my degree and left the podium� thing. My point being that I�ve made a conscious effort to move on with my life, and maybe it�s petty, but I really don�t care to think about any of them sitting around at the Coffee Bean going, �You�ll never believe who I saw the other day -- Dr. No! And he�s lost some weight, and you won�t believe what he was wearing, and his hair was longer, and�� No thank you.
This is why my blood ran cold on Saturday night, when I was at a bar in Hollywood to bid adieu to a friend who is moving east, and someone I recognized placed me a split second before I placed him, and before I could react. Of all people, I�d really not been expecting him. I�d known he�d moved out here about three years ago�the same time as I did�but having heard nothing about him in the intervening time, I�d convinced myself he�d moved on out. Taking with him my once best friend, Solitaire.
Maybe only my longtime readers (and even then, only the ones with extraordinarily endowed memory banks) would remember mention of Solitaire, and for those of you who don�t, a brief recap from a previous entry:
In college, my best friend Solitaire, assumed I was gay. No real harm there � later, when I started talking to her about my ex-girlfriend (Honey Ryder �) she got all weird. Then she decided I was totally straight and started viciously defending my sexuality to other people, so when I started dating a guy our senior year, my friendship with her took a really strong hit. The issue was compounded by her homophobic boyfriend, who pretty much had her wrapped around his finger.
The final sentence being the key one in this little drama. It was he, the boyfriend, who spotted and identified me. It seems that he and Solitaire did not move out as I�d believed. It seems that they live a mere six blocks from where I live now. It seems that although they live together, they are not together together. It seems they still keep in touch with the old gang. It seems all my efforts to remain off the radar came to a rather abrupt end in the blink of an eye. It seems the Universe may be trying to tell me something (he wasn�t even there for the going away party, but because he �knows people in the neighborhood�).I�d like to clarify two points, though: first of all, he really is kind of a nice guy, despite the fact that he wouldn�t sit on my gay futon for fear of all the grody, gay things I may have been doing on it, and gave little looks to people who accidentally did when he thought I didn�t notice him. Second of all, despite saying he would tell Solitaire he saw me, he did not ask for address or my phone number or give me his or hers, thereby at the very least preserving me some of my space and privacy.
Anyway, I can hear the conversations now. And frankly? As long as I only have to hear them in my head, and not in person, I�m fine.
Also, I think nine out of my last ten entries have been big downers, and it�s frustrating. On Wednesday, I promise to write something frivolous and upbeat!
Someone Got Here By Searching For: t-shirts �Donna Martin Graduates� I�m Watching: The Skeleton Key and actually rather liking it. Gena Rowlands is the shit, y�all. I�m Listening To: Tegan & Sara�s So Jealous. It�s growing on me the more I play it.