In order to appease those ex boyfriends who read this blog, and don't fall into the category of "dead ex boyfriend", I've decided to write about boyfriends who haven't yet died.
K worked at the skate shop a few doors down from where I worked, a little clothing shop on Melrose. I had seen him a few times on my daily walk to the liquor store and was immediately struck by his handsome face. He looked exactly like a young Christopher Reeve, although his thin frame and black rimmed glasses alluded to Clark Kent.
After a pep talk from my friend/coworker, I worked up the nerve to approach him. I walked into the skate shop, not knowing what on earth I would say. He was sitting at the front counter and we nervously exchanged hello's. I started perusing the woman's clothing section, when one of my favorite bands (an obscure late-90's pop band whose name I refuse to reveal on the grounds that it's embarrassing) filled the speakers.
I wonder how things would have unfolded if that hadn't happened. I probably would have just said goodbye and walked out, hoping that we'd run into each other in the future and one of us would be bold enough to chat the other up. Instead, I approached the front counter and asked if it was he who had just put that CD on, and that they were one of my favorite bands. We started chatting about music, and before I left he asked for my phone number.
We went out for about a year and half. It was a good, fun relationship, and my heart was a little crushed when he broke up with me, but he did it in a caring way. We just weren't right for each other, but at 19 years old I took it pretty hard. We remained friends until he moved back home, somewhere east. He didn't die. He just got married.