last weekend at fpac, i had the occasion of being caught up in the vortex of ex-boyfriends/old flames (what's the difference? both have dead fires). i was standing at some vendor booth, when i felt someone gently put their hand on my side. i turned around and saw, "fishman." i had dated him briefly eight years ago, when i was in college. since then, we've stayed in contact here and there--never consistently. however, as of last fall, he's been popping back into my life more often then usual, dropping hints that "one day" when he gets his shit together, he may be coming back for me. oh, brother.

right when i was talking to him, my last long-term relationship ex showed up (i'm calling him... "catman". why the hell the not?) seeing me with fishman, he did a brief "hi" and "bye."

feeling the vibe from fishman that he was throwing the "gentle rambo" style of "i'm coming to get you!" i tried to quickly get out of the conversation and run for cover. at a big outdoor festival like fpac, that worked. on a sunday morning running around the beach, minding my own business? i'm a sitting duck with a cell phone that makes me too accessible to anyone through the virtual world.

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i have a newfound love for sunday mornings. when i was a kid i used to dread them because i associated them with having to fake sleep and quietly sneak around in my bedroom, so that my parents wouldn't decide to drag me to church. now, that i'm older and living on my own...

church? what? who? me?

being summer 2004's last weekend (sniff, sniff), "r" and i had planned to make a day of it. i agreed to accompany him to his friend's "meet my baby" party on the santa monica beach and afterwards we were going to go around the promenade shopping and looking for cheap deals and thrills (really, there weren't any thrills, nor were we expecting any. i just felt i needed to add something here so that "cheap deals" wouldn't seem so lonely).

on my way to "r's" house, i get a text message from catman asking if i wanted to have breakfast with him tomorrow morning. since we had broken up, i had tried to maintain a friendship with catman by suggesting that we meet once a month for breakfast. the last time we did this friendship breakfast was back in january, but who's counting? i text back, "sure." instead of his suggested 10am meeting time, i suggest 8.30am so i can get it out of the way.

breakfast with catman? no big deal.

semi "ho hum" conversation with fishman? i got problems.

when i get home from running around santa monica with "r," i get a phone call from fishman. what ensues is a half-hour of mediocre conversation that makes me long for organizing my closet over talking on the phone. btw, "r" and i didn't make it to the "meet my baby" shindig. according to the woman at the visitor's info booth on the santa monica beach after reading the cryptic directions given to "r" to get to the party site, "r's" friend is in dire need of taking a learning annex class on giving directions.

the whole time i'm talking to fishman i'm wondering, "why now?" why are my exes coming back into my life now? who the hell else from "this is your life!" is going to walk through my door? as i struggle to stay in the here and now and get my life in order, i feel like the fishman (catman's no problem. i think a breakfast every few months is fine. but, nothing more!) is trying to go back to something familiar during his current state of instability. maybe he should clean his room.

i don't want yesterday; i want tomorrow, but i'll settle for today.