I was just having a conversation with my friend, Becca, who is the only person who reads this blog, and I casually wondered aloud (or, over AIM in this case) how much time was wasted on The One That Got Away worldwide. I mentioned that I should run a study and she agreed. So now I am thinking: just how much time have I wasted romanticizing a relationship that never was and consequently, how much damage have I done to my current and future mental health by building so many fantastic scenarios around the coming reunion with the fella in question? And yes, I still use the word fella.

I worry sometimes that my dangerously low level of relationship experience has harmed me irrevocably. This could perhaps be why I think so hard about this one individual. I have been in a position to watch my friends go through virtually every terrible relationship experience, with the exception of the death of a significant other, which is unimaginable to me. For a long time I had myself convinced that these relationships-by-proxy were enough to prepare me for the real thing, since it seemed that I was quite capable of coming up with logical, rational advice for whichever heartbroken friend solicited it. As I get older, I realize what a crock of shit that is.

Why am I thinking, “I wonder what he is doing right now?” and “I will look fabulous when I finally see him again!” instead of useful things like, “I wonder how I can pay down my student loans faster?” or “I wonder who’s gonna whack Tony B?” Because he’s TOTALLY getting whacked. He has to! Am I right or am I right??

Perhaps the funniest aspect regarding these musings is that I actually think that I am not alone. I refuse to believe that I am the only individual on this planet who obsesses about the one person in their life with whom maybe they should have tried a little harder. That belief is further supported by the latest reality TV installment by an unnamed network (FOX) called, shockingly, “The One That Got Away” in which seven ex-girlfriends of one (incredibly presumptuous) dude will compete and vie for reconciliation with him.

High School Reunion was another reality TV example. I only tuned in to the last two episodes of that show, but as a few former couples decided to reunite, I thought, “They’re chasing something that does not exist.” Essentially, they decided to give up their current lives and loves for another chance at what they once had. I said to my roommate, “That’s pathetic!”

They can’t recapture the feelings they had for each other a dozen years ago. They’re not the same people. They’re not blind in the way 17 year olds are. They’ve been through some major stuff and major stuff changes a sister! How deluded are they to even imagine that it might work? But as soon as these thoughts were born in my head, another thought swiftly followed; the runt thought. The thought that struggles for a chance at sustenance and, despite tremendous Darwinian odds, continues to prevail and survive: You are just as deluded, just as pathetic, and just as hopeful as those clowns on High School Reunion. I’m just jealous of their willingness to set aside fear and rational thought in order to try.

I suppose the resolution to all this wondering and fantasizing is to tap into the real thing and get some answers. The time wasted on The One That Got Away (the individual, not the show, of course!), is actually just time spent cowering in the corner of my insecurities. There have been many MANY times I could have picked up the phone and spoken to this fella about anything and everything. He was always good for a four-hour phone conversation, despite the demands on his time and his need for sleep.

The last time we actually spoke in person was August of 2001 (we still occasionally email). After that, not only was the world plummeted to the depths of despair, but I was, too. I just lost myself in a maze of depression that lasted for quite a while and still creeps back every now and again. That I can lay all these thoughts out now is testament to the fact that my mind is pretty clear, and the constant throb of self-loathing still emanating from the floorboards is at the faintest it has been in a long time. But it’s still there, as I suspect it will always be. And there is one person in my life who always understood that about me and was generous enough to share his own experiences and relate to me on a very personal level.

So, maybe I should throw caution to the wind. Instead of asking myself questions that I perceive as a waste of time, I should seek out the answers. It’s ok to wonder what he’s doing, as long as I think it once and follow it up with an action that gets me closer to the answer. The wasted time comes from the repeated thought, I think. I could end all this wondering by dialing 11 measly digits. And since I have approximately 882 miles of thinking distance to spend in the very near future, I think I will.