Oh, Oprah…my dear, dear friend, Oprah.  You would be so proud of me.  I had a real, unadulterated “Ah-Ha” moment last night.  Yes, I realize it was while viewing Men in Trees (when I should have been catching up on a healthy backlog of work), but it was a moment, nonetheless.

You know Jack…Marin’s love interest on the show (and, apparently the reason for the demise of her last real-world marriage)…well, I was basking in the loveliness that is him, when, out of the blue, something hit me.  The words “unrealistic romantic media conditioning” swam through my brain, and I actually stood still a moment to absorb them, pull them into the outside world and ponder their validity.  You may assume that I was searching for a partner in crime to share the burden of my poor relationship choices.  I can’t deny that the thought did cross my mind…I’ve been carrying a heavy load for far too long.  My shoulders are a bit slumped, and frankly, damn sore.  But I didn’t let myself go there.  I thought of The Secret and Eckhart Tolle (we’re back to Oprah)…I revisited their collective teachings and murmured to myself “what we put out there is what we get back.” Was that my Ah-ha moment?  Ummm…no.  Because, really, I do get the reasoning…but mostly, it just makes me feel guilty when my mind goes elsewhere.  A sad side-effect of this new age of enlightenment…it carries with it a shitload of guilt when we’re unable to practice it 24/7.

My realization came as I was watching Jack and Marin suffer through one of their many dramatic, uncommunicative, we-might-break-up-again moments.

“Why!” I heard myself blurt out.  My, God, where did that come from?  I looked over my left shoulder…then my right.  Then it happened again… “Why am I rooting for them?”  After assuring myself I hadn’t spontaneously developed Multiple Personality Disorder (or MPD – as my Psychotherapist mother calls it), I allowed a ticker board of past and current TV dreamboats to flash before me:  Jordan Catalano (My So Called Life); Dylan McKay (90210); Big (SATC); “Sawyer” (Lost); and, of course our beautiful, silent friend, Jack Slattery (Men in Trees).  Why did I love these brooding, broken men so?  Is it because of their fabulous wit?  Their supportiveness or emotional availability?  Is it because they make our heroine’s lives easier…or better yet, because they “put them at ease”?  The answer, I realized, is not only “no”, but “HELL NO”! 

And then it got worse…the more difficult-to-swallow list of men barraged my brain…my own personal brooders:  “Dental School Boy” – my first love and a child of multiple – and I do mean multiple divorce.  He was tall and blonde and beautiful and smart and completely screwed up.  And then there was the Navy pilot – the tall (yes, this is a pattern), dark-haired adrenaline junkie…I was his first love some ten years ago – and I broke his heart.  I then went back for more last year, and he broke mine.  It seems that his new career as a commercial pilot and his shiny capable-of-speeds-up-to 200 mph-“crotch rocket” (motorcycle) were now more enticing than true love.  Then there was the NYC writer…the one with the floppy hair, gorgeous, rugged face and penchant for multiple women.  He was brilliant and talented and would never fully be mine.  And last, but certainly not least, how can I forget the culprit of my most recent bleeding, gaping hole…the pseudo photographer, who moved to this fair town fresh from a separation with his 2^nd wife.  Well, wasn’t he a gem.  I thought so – at first glance.  Those initial couple of months, he came off quite charming…in hindsight, they all did.  But time would prove otherwise.

So, there it was, staring me in the face like a rabid pack of coyotes…I was chasing the unattainable…the Jordan’s and Dylan’s and Jack’s of the real world…but with much less success than my favorite TV goddesses.  “AH-HA!”  My heart began to race.  A smile edged itself up my face.  I don’t want to conquer Mr. Big anymore.  I don’t want to cry over the pilot or the dentist or the “photographer”.  I want someone to laugh with.  I want someone to rub my back when I get chewed out at work or if my cat gets sick.  Most importantly, I want someone who is there…someone who really appreciates and adores all the great things I bring to the table.  And if they could be tall and gorgeous and full of sex appeal, I’ll take that as well.  I’m only human, folks.  A girl has needs.

So there it is.  I think you’ve just witnessed a revelation – or at least the day after a revelation.  Bring it on, world!  Bring it on!  Mama is ready for the next chapter…and this one, if I have any say at all, will not be a tragedy.

Join me again for the next entry from an anomaly.

Cheers!

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