Not too long ago, I reconnected with a guy I dated many years ago. Because marriage had so little appeal to me in my youth, I was able to have lots of fun dating many guys without having to consider “where this was going”. I liked being in a relationship, always comfortable with the notion that when love (or passion) died, I would just move on to the next one. But he was kind of special. I really dug him, even though I never really penetrated the surface. For the most part, our interactions in Year Two were about as superficial as they were in Month Two. Neither of us knew how many siblings the other had, birthdays, or lots of other things you’d imagine friends just know about each other. I didn’t know his favorite food and he didn’t know if I preferred still or sparkling water. But I did really like him, so from time to time over the years after it ended, I wondered if he could have been “The One” had we had a different kind of relationship (even if I was never really sure what “The One” meant for me). It was a provocative notion, based on not much at all. Our relationship had always been spontaneous and fun, but since it wasn’t deeply connected, this thought was probably mostly rooted in curiosity about what might lay beneath the surface. I wondered if things would have turned out differently –more favorably—if we had done things differently. So I decided to find out what would happen if I agreed to a Do Over.
I’ve always thought of him as one of the most intriguing guys I’ve dated. He wasn’t especially good-looking, though he was a real delight in many ways: charming, really smart, funny as hell, good in bed, and knowledgeable about all kinds of things, both significant and trivial. He was far from perfect, but I didn’t mind at all: (1) so was I, and (2) how boring would that be? I’ve always preferred to err on the side of rogue.
