I couldn’t avoid,,,ran into had to see ,,saw the seventeen year man at a birthday party a couple of weeks ago.

Wait, let me back up: I actually chose to be in his presence at New Year’s thing because his brother was in town and I wanted to see him. But I pretty much ignored him. –>musical interlude–>”I’m looking through you- where did you go? I thought I knew you. What did I know? You don’t look different but you have changed. I’m looking through you. You’re not the same.” reeh reeh reeder reeder, reeh reeh reeder reeder “Baby you’ve changed. Yeah.  I’m lookin’ through you.” (Beatles never go out of style.)<–end of interlude

<side note: I grew up with the whole family, was best buds with one of ’em, dated one, have been friends with and in touch with many, and they’re pretty much my alternate family. Or have been in different phases of my life.>

Anyway, a few weeks ago, one of his sisters and I were talking and she asked if he’d called me. I was confused – as I said “Why would he call me?!” I couldn’t think of one reason, especially since I didn’t even talk to him at the holiday deal.

According to his sister, seeing me at New Year’s ‘sparked’ something in him and he wanted to call and ask me out but (and this says everything I guess) ‘he was scared I would curse him’ if he called me.

Again, I must refer you to the prologue so you understand why I think I can rightly say this…but I told his sister that I wouldn’t curse him out (though clearly he had a clue about why I’d be justified doing so), however,

1. I think I know where that spark was located and it was a little south of the mind or heart, 2. did he forget that he ‘forgot’ to break up with me lo those 17+ years ago? and 3. he’s getting old and freaking out and wants a mommy to take care of him.

For some reason, I guess she never told him all that because he walked up to me at the birthday party (remember that topic?!) and said something random about going back to Amsterdam. I breezily wished him  a good trip and walked away, when he called out “Muhree! blah blah blah – kept talking but lost me at Muhree

<side note: My name is spelled Marie but it is (as you know) pronounced Mary (thanks again, Mom and Dad).>

I whipped around and said, “WHAT did you just call me?” You would’ve thought he had yelled out “hey ‘ho!” or “hey beeatch” if you’d heard how I said it, but I was beyond shocked. It just came out (the words  that’d go on my tombstone if I weren’t being cremated).

Not only did he remember my name 6 months ago, but I’ve known this guy for the better part of 40 years. FORTY. Not to mention the 3+ years we were in a (apparently loosely-based) relationship. Seriously? “Muhreeeee?” WTF dude?! Way to ingratiate yourself. But I digress…

One of his sisters called me ‘Muhree’ at the bar after her mother’s memorial service, but she’s an alcky cokehead who lives across the country anyway, so while it pi**sed me off, this little malaprop (sp?) just frosted my as* for the rest of the night, as anyone who I talked at afterwards can attest to.  Obviously, it’s bugging me enough still to even write about it…

I can forgive someone from grade school I haven’t seen for 10 years but FORTY?! Come on. Seriously, that would be like one of my blood relatives calling me Muhree. Some things are just not excusable…

I know I need to let it go, and I certainly don’t obsess over it or even ponder it (wwbd*?) but for now it is a fingernail on my chalkboard.

*what would buddha do?<–He wouldn’ write this rant, I can tell you that much…