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I saw Gone with the Wind when I was a kid and it instantly became my favorite movie of all time. My father acquired a copy of the screenplay somehow and I’d watch the movie and say the dialogue with the actors (for a 53 lb. Jewish kid, I did a mean Hattie McDaniel).
Forgetting the whole (yawn) Civil War thing, let’s recap the love story. Scarlett O’Hara loves Ashley Wilkes, who loves Melanie Hamilton. Rhett Butler loves Scarlett O’Hara. But Scarlett treats Rhett like shit because she only wants Ashley. Thrilling!
This is how I began to understand love. You pine after someone you can’t have and despise the one you are with. Look, Ashley was no asshole by any stretch of the imagination. But he rejected Scarlett over and over again which represented the fascinating, desirable and oh so sexy unattainable Man. Unattainable wears many hats:
Emotionally stunted Guy.
Pathological liar psychopath Guy.
Let’s just have sex and never be seen in public or daylight Guy
Sober not working the program Guy. (Which in many cases was alter ego of Guys listed above)
The first love of my life was Leif Garrett. I had a full blown sexually explicit dream about him when I was 12 years old. It was so powerful I still get butterflies in my pants thinking about it. But Leif was older, a movie star, and lived in Hollywood. Which made him very, very unattainable.
As I got older, I dated a bunch of nice guys who were very attainable, but I would find things wrong with them because it was too easy. BORING. I wasn’t crying like Scarlett O’Hara with them. They weren’t Ashley Wilkes.
My first serious boyfriend was at 23. Funny, artistic, handsome, sexy, Actor Guy. We lived together. How was he unattainable? Perhaps his mother marrying 7 times and his father committing suicide a year before we met played in to his absolute inability to get close to or trust anyone. HOT! We got pregnant and he wanted no part of being a father. Heartbroken, I terminated the pregnancy. That morning he went on a commercial audition instead of being by my side. I cried like Scarlett O’Hara that morning.
It was around that time that I met sexy, sober heroin addict, musical prodigy, record producer, drummer Guy. Weeks turned into months. Indescribable passion followed. Everything about him was perfect. Even his fiance that he didn’t tell me about having. She was perfect too. I cried like Scarlett O’Hara the day I found out about her.
Then of course, there was my string of lesbians. I thought being gay was the answer to my problems. But the problem was, I really liked a penis. Girls don’t have them, FYI.
But no one compared to the older, Yogi, Sheik, Actor, Therapist, Healer, Sober Heroin addict, motorcycle riding, 13 year older, 6’4”, rugged, Guy. He’s the one that destroyed me. It was the best of times. It was the worst of times. You know the type. Cheating on you, and when you confront him, tells you that you are certifiably crazy. I would put an “X” on the corner of his sheet in the morning with a pen. When I got back in bed that night I would check to see if it was the same sheet. It never was. I would find blond hairs on my pillow. Panties in the bathroom. Boarding passes from other women in his car door. Rug burns on his back. I wasn’t allowed to answer his phone or be in his house when he taught Yoga. I would find love letters to him from other women and in the middle of the night listen to women call him and leave messages confessing their love to him on his answering machine.
I left him 4 times and each time he cried and begged and proposed marriage and I took him back. Until one morning there was a knock on his bedroom window. When I looked up there was a woman telling me to meet her outside. When I did, she told me she was pregnant with his baby.
That was the day I was done crying like Scarlett O’Hara.
When I finally met my husband I