A Contemporary Cautionary Tale

So I’m in the midst of April 1, 2009, multi-tasking at my desk like a mad woman, my laptop flaming hot under my wrists, responding to emails, writing content for a bunch of sites and responding to texts. My friend Rita sends me a text, asking me about my upcoming trip to New York.

New York. Sometimes the city seems like a million miles away when it’s only about an hour from my island. After living there for several years, I have to mentally prepare myself for the trip. This time, especially so.

My ex-boyfriend Robert, who lives in NYC, is dealing with a life-threatening illness. We had an extremely unhealthy relationship when we were together several years ago – though we did have our share of fun. Hanging out with the devil is, if nothing else, a good time. And Robert is the devil. Larger than life, wild, unbridled and dangerous. A night out with him won’t soon be forgotten though it probably should be. Debauchery and revelry in the form of a large, handsome man.












( Robert last Halloween, before the diagnosis)

But a relationship with Robert? Not so fun. Especially when you’re rarely “allowed” to stay at his apartment. Why? He has a child with another woman. They are not married (really – they are not) but she has keys to his place and pops by with the child frequently. He is afraid of her, of losing the chance to see his little boy, so he gives her nothing to get upset about. That nothing was me. I felt excluded and very hurt constantly.

After a year of this humiliating treatment, I cut my ties and freed myself of the diabolical yet innately sweet Robert. But when he became ill recently, things altered. No longer interested in romance, we began to rely on each other as friends. He was scared, perhaps for the first time in his life. And he needed support. The dynamic shifted.




















(Robert, last month)

Or had it? I made plans to stay with him in NYC when it occurred to me that he could easily tell me, at the last minute, that I couldn’t stay at his place, just like before! That would be enough to send me into a ballistic fit.

So when my good friend Rita texted me, she knew my dilemma and said, of course, I could stay with her and suggested I just visit with Robert for lunch or dinner. That would be easier. I agreed.






















(My friend Rita, busy with her flag)

Then suddenly I had an idea! I thought of the 24-year old lover I had in Brooklyn. Brandon. This young guy gives new meaning to “smoking hot.” Abercrombie and Fitch ads wilt in his presence. He makes my knees feel all funny...and that's just my knees. He’s certainly not boyfriend material due to his utter lack of sanity…but bedroom material? Hell yeah!


























(Brandon, posing for an art class, thinking insane thoughts)

That’s when I decided to share my idea with Rita, right quick.

The text read:

“Fuck Robert! I should hook up with Crazy Brandon instead!”

I quickly searched for Rita’s name on my phone, scrolling, scrolling (I bet you see where this is going, don’t you?) I find Rita's name right before Robert’s name and hit SEND.

And off it went…to Robert, instead!

Let's look at the exact wording of the text again:

“Fuck Robert! I should hook up with Crazy Brandon instead!”




















(Me, as a 50’s blonde, freaking out in bedroom)


No!!!!!

I called Rita, frantic. “Shit, shit, shit, shit!”

It took us about ten minutes to come up with a barely viable excuse that went something like this:

“It was an April Fool’s Day joke, dummy.” (She thought “dummy” was critical. That way he might feel stupid for not getting it.)  And then I was to quickly start talking about something else. (Come on, it was the best we could come up with considering the restrictions of my wording.) She made me practice my response several times with her until I had it down just so. (Insert "That's what Friends are For" tune here.)

Then a novel thought occurred to me. I could just tell him the truth:

“Listen. You’ve treated me like a mistress for years. It’s fucking humiliating. I’m trying to help you during a hard time but I’m scared you’ll resort to the same bullshit tactics of the past, with no regard for my feelings whatsoever. I love you, I care, but I’m done with that old crap. I'm nobody's secret.

Meanwhile, there’s a hottie in Brooklyn, with his door wide open to me and no baby’s momma issues breathing down my back. Which one would YOU choose, Robert? Which one?”

It's been 24 hours and Robert hasn't responded to my mistake text yet, so we'll see. Eh…I might just go with “It’s April Fool’s Day, dummy.”