The Fonz

Meet Alfonso. My new boyfriend.

I know, I know. Your thinking it's too soon, right? That inviting a new man into my life is just a recipe for disaster? Well rest assured, he has his own life. He doesn't live with me - yet. We met for the first time before I even moved in. I was just coming to see the place, when he galloped up the stairs of my apartment and acted like he belonged there. Recently he has decided he likes me quite a lot. He is waiting for me when I get home. Always lurking around my house waiting for the chance to bump into me, hoping I'll invite him up for a cuddle and a bite to eat. His persistence is wearing my down like a man who won't stop calling. A man who shows up looking all sweet, and rubbing you just the right way. Eventually you go out with them, even though you know better, and before you know it they are in your bed and making themselves right at home.

That's sort of what happened with my husband. He showed up in my life rather unexpectedly when I was still pining after a boyfriend who had broken up with me for religion. He was Muslim, I was ... open minded. Too open-minded for him I suppose. After he refused to tell his family about me, we broke up. I was lonely and made out with his best friend fraternity brother, which resulted in some name calling, a fist through a glass-paned door, and an end to any and all hope of reconciliation.

For the record I really liked the best friend, but I had to learn the hard way that best friends are a bad choice for rebound relationships. In fact its best to re-bound for a while with guys you don't really like all that much. If I ever have a daughter with a broken heart I will *not* tell her to wait, and be patient, and heal and all that crap. Nope. I will tell her to go find all the cute guys she pleases, but not the sort she will fall for. I will tell her to have plenty of sex with any or all of them, so long as she uses a condom, and none of them are friends of the true object of her affection. In moments of anger, lashing out at the X by hooking up with his friend seems like the most brilliant act of revenge, but it never works. The friend knows about the X, and thinks you're a slut. The X- finds out about the friend and thinks you're a slut, has a fight with the friend, makes up with the friend and the friend dumps you. Now you are twice dumped and twice as miserable. Better to find a cute random stranger, or befriend a lonesome cat.

My eventual husband was a lot like Alfonso (who as I write this is sleeping soundly on my bed): he was very persistent, sweet, and he rubbed me just the right way - that is to say he rubbed my feet. Yes. The man took of my shoes one night and began massaging my feet. It began completely innocently (I think). I was in college and I had just had my car towed away because of multiple unpaid parking tickets. Those tickets amounted to a paltry sum compared to what it eventually cost me, including the towing and impound fees, and fines. I had to call my mother and ask her for the money- some four hundred dollars- to get the car out of the impound lot. She was understandably pissed, and I started to cry. I was lying on my bed, crying, and he, wanting to comfort me, slipped off my shoes and began massaging my feet. It was the sweetest gesture ...and it worked. I felt better. I stopped crying, and soon he was sliding his hands up my calves and helping me wriggle out of my jeans.

And I guess I adopted him, because before I knew it he was making himself right at home. Too bad he doesn't rub my feet anymore, or maybe I'd keep him.