So, after being trapped in my apartment complex due to the inexplicable loss of my garage clicker, I was finally able to procure a new one and go out into the world to do important things, like grocery shopping.
I hopped in my car and drove to the nearest, not exactly fabulous, supermarket. It felt as if I hadn't eaten since 1986, so I really didn't care. I was just about finished when I see this hot guy walk in. I check him out, he checks me out and we go on our merry way. Normal enough, right? Except I think I recognize him. In fact, I know I do. I remember his name: Kris... and it all comes flooding back.
Years ago, actually about 8 years, I moved to LA and was introduced to Kris, a friend of a friend, who thought that Kris and I would have things in common since we were both gay. We did have things in common and struck up a friendship that I had hoped would blossom into something more. I spent a lot of time and energy trying to convince Kris that we were perfect for each other, to no avail... After a disasterous Halloween outing, wherein I was drugged, televised and eventually thrown out of West Hollywood in Pamela Anderson drag-- for punching Jesus Christ! Well, let's just say that at the end of the evening, I had a purse full of phone numbers and a very angry Kris dropping me off at home, then phoning in a suicide call to the North Hollywood Police Department. I explained to the cops that I was not suicidal, just emotional. They seemed to buy it, and besides... Who wants to cart a naked, drunk Pamela Anderson off to the Looney Bin at 3 in the morning? (Don't answer that...)
I never heard from Kris again, until tonight... I walked up to him at the checkout stand and said hello. It took him a minute, but he remembered me. After paying for our purchases, we walked outside together "catching up." For the most part, he hasn't changed a bit. He's lost a little weight, but so have I. He explained that he still lived in the same apartment and was head over heels for his "straight" best friend. All of a sudden, I remembered that he seemed to sing that same lament, all those years ago. Hopelessly devoted to his unrequited love, I have been there myself. But I moved on. Sadly for Kris, he did not.
I asked where he was parked and he pointed to the car next to mine. The exact same car! I looked across the parking lot at the place where two white Toyota Matrixes sat, side by side. He had only made one purchase: a twelve pack of Diet Dr Pepper, which I had also purchased. As we loaded our identical sodas into our identical cars, Kris said: "Maybe you were right... Maybe we should have been together this whole time..." To which, I smiled and bid him goodnight. The air was thick with irony.
Here is the thing: This happens to me all the time. I throw myself at someone who doesn't want me throwing myself at them and eventually, sometimes even years later, they say: Maybe you were right... Which does me no good, because - let's be honest - I know I'm right. I sat here tonight, recalling all the past lovers, friends, etc., who have come back around and said "I should have picked you." I came to the conclusion that fate has somehow intervened on my behalf, because I still believe in love. I will say it again: I still believe in love. And someday, the right guy is gonna come along and say: I choose you. Hopefully when that happens, I will be ready to hear it.