ELECTRA GIRL AND WONDER BOY!!

I had known from the beginning all I wanted was to create something that was forever. From my earliest knee sock-wearing days, I had lusted to fall in love. Not just a tomorrow kind of love, but a tomorrow's- tomorrow-and-then-some kind of love. What made me different was I didn't just think about it alone at night. I consciously looked for it. I heard it's voice in opera and in Shakespeare. It was a sprightly nymph, a decadent myth that I sought.

Oh. Here's the deal on boyfriend boy. I had been indefatigably pursuing the legendary love-a little more than an abstract concept to my adolescent self. Suddenly, I rounded the corner at a dance club, and there it was-my ideal staring at me. Being full of youthful zeal, I pounced on the elusive sprite, closed my eyes, and kissed him. I kissed him and kissed him, and thought my heart might burst.

Two years later when I opened my eyes, I was shocked and appalled to discover, I had captured the wrong nymph.
You see, he looked an awful lot like my fantasy. But I had confused a jock for a fairy. It's funny how that happens sometimes. He tasted and cuddled and even smelled like love. But at second glance, I noticed his blood ran about ten degrees cooler than the life force that coursed through the veins of my self-envisioned hamlet. His blood was too cold, and his eyes too empty, and my lips too tired of saying the same thing. Frankly, I was bored.

My predicament reminded me a lot of that Barbara Streisand movie, where she spends her whole life convinced she's in love, until it suddenly hits her that she's only in love with wanting love. So we took a break, My mom reminded me how many damned fish were in the sea, but I felt too weak to swim, and almost wanted my old fish back. After all, he was on my speed dial.

The long months passed. I remembered I had a life and treading water isn't so bad. My long-awaited nymph was on vacation. I went on a date with a boy who wore sweatpants and wrote love songs, but I didn't take boyfriend boy off my speed dial. And a hundred parties and kisses later, I was alone.

Well, I don't know quite what became of starry-eyed Ophelia. Even now I sometimes secretly wish to run to his comfortably boring arms and just dive back in....