Going Back to the Well

People thought it was funny when I declared, “clearing the bullpen” to be one of my 2008 New Year’s resolutions (and no, not just because I correctly used a sports metaphor). The thing is, there were a handful of guys I’d been cycling through for a while—nine years in one case—and I was sick of warming them up over and over again. Sometimes you just have to make room for new ones. Sort of like my once-per-year closet purge.

Anyway, it’s been a bit of a process, but I’ve successfully eliminated men in three states. I’ve even managed to clear out the nice guys—you know, the ones you never officially rule out because you tell yourself that one day “nice” may matter a lot more than it does now and perhaps even surpass “chemistry” on the must-have list. (By the way, I think this entire category has been maintained for my mother’s sake.) And lastly, I’ve also found the guts to quit torturing myself and cut ties with The Nine Year Guy, whom I’ve remained inexplicably hopeful about despite no real evidence of a workable future together. Blah blah, this blog isn’t for sob stories. Bottom line: I’ve been making progress.

The thing is, it didn’t dawn on me until this morning, when I was rehashing last night over brunch, that I’ve actually accomplished my goal. Mara was commenting on my dance floor makeout session with Bill, which in and of itself was a non-event (Nate used to regularly call the over/under). It had been a while though—a year maybe?—and after giving it no more than 30 seconds of commentary, I had a light bulb moment: the bullpen! The only time Bill and I ever make out is when both of us are unattached and uninspired. In short, when our bullpens are mutually clear. It’s an odd sort of circumstantial star alignment thing, when you think about it. But more importantly, it’s a clear indication that I’m kicking off the summer with a clean slate.

Coincidentally, I ran into Bill on my way home. He too had just finished rehashing our spectacle (and thankfully ensuring the photos don’t end up on Facebook), so I proposed my theory. He added in the very obvious alcohol variable but totally agreed with me, commenting, “It’s kind of like going back to the well.” I laughed, said something about catching up with him later, and continued walking. I think it’s going to be a good summer.