Looking for Mr. Goodbar

[susandennis]

Judith Rossner died not long ago and for me, it was one of those 'she was still alive?' deaths. The only thing I knew about her was her novel - Looking for Mr. Goodbar and that was so long ago. When it came out I gobbled it up. I had spent years in lock step with straight women and gay men looking for Mr. Right and not finding him. I learned nothing from the book. And spent many years more in the same pursuit before declaring failure and finally realizing that I am my own Mr. Right.

But before I got there, I tripped and fell and stubbed my toe and did every single thing wrong. It's embarrassing to even remember most of the stuff. And since it started for me in the 60's the hunt for Mr. Right was tangled with sex, drugs, rock and roll plus free love. Modern birth control was in its infancy. I got pregnant more than once. And once before abortions were legal in this country.

I tossed off [that's American tossing off] a perfectly wonderful guy who's name I cannot remember now but who was not 'cool' enough. I remember things I learned from him even trying to ignore him. I wonder how much I could have learned if I hadn't been so stupid.

I followed that furniture re finisher to Southern Pines. Talk about a mismatch. He worked hard to dump me and I ignored his every effort. But, finally he won and I found a guy who had no teeth but did have a 7 year old son and was raising him. He had a good heart and very little brain. I remember my parents visiting once and he joined us for dinner. I'm sure my parents were horrified. Actually, I'm fairly sure I set it up to horrify them.

Then there was my husband. Father of 5, 21 years old than I was (actually, he probably still is). He desperately wanted a wife and so did I. Both of us got screwed.

Then there was the married man. He got divorced and I grew to really despise him and it took me forever to dump him. It was very ugly from beginning to end and I am more to blame than anyone. I heard from him after 9/11 - he sent me an email and I answered and then he put me on his mailing list for "thoughtful pieces about our world". I asked him to please take me off. I never heard from him again.

Then there was the mainframe IT guy who raced Porsches on the weekend - those suckers are a bitch to ride in on a road trip and their radios suck. He was the closest I ever came to getting hit by a man. He didn't do it but there was a moment when I sure wondered if he was going to. But he also gave me one of the world's greatest lines... After I moved to Seattle - he was in California - he called and asked to come visit one weekend. I told him I was busy and he said 'Are you really busy or are you 'gotta change the air in my tires' busy?' Cracked me up.

The really last blow in my daisy chain of bad relationships (how's that for throwing your metaphors into a blender and hitting 'hi'??) was my friend's husband's brother. He lived in Tacoma (maybe still does). Another newspaper reporter. Really nice guy but with a couple of fatal flaws. He drank vodka all day long every day straight up - during the cocktail hour, he added an ice cube. And he was just not so bright. But, ya know, he provided the very very very best sex of all of them.

That's when I learned that great sex is not enough. I drove down to his house one Saturday morning to tell him. He took it fairly well. I stopped on the way home and saw Sister Act because 1) he would have never gone to such a silly move and 2) he would have analyzed it to death. I enjoyed the movie and the silence afterward so much that I knew he was the last one and I could finally stop looking.