the death of a name

This name, the name I can’t write. Write on this computer screen. If I write the name- the following might happen: a) I will jinx myself and a wonderful man bearing his name would appear b) I might piss some folks off c) one of them will promptly return, oh shit one just did. I will opt to play it safe. So the name, the name that died for me is common, it most likely was the in the top ten popular names in the mid to late 70’s to early 80’s. Everyone knows one. Everyone has dated one. Everyone has one on their ball team of the soft or kick or their team at work. You probably have one in your family.

Well, I have, I have dated 4 guys bearing this name. 4 guys with the name, John (pseudonym- to protect me and protect you). I opted to stop at three but the fourth time wasn’t the charm and most definitely killed the name for me, for good, forever. I guess I thought if I stuck with the same name eventually, eventually it would work out. Work out. I made the rule to stop dating Johns and then guess what happened I broke my rule. Duh, rules are made to be broken especially if you make them up yourself. Just like the time I wouldn’t date someone just out of the relationship. Broke that one too, more than once. Silly Kate breaking patterns is really fucking hard to do. Good thing for my current and future therapists. Know what you dragging or driving in your uhaul. One day I will get it. One day.

So back to John. The infamous dear john letter of my life. So every time now a man reaches his hand to mine and says hi my name is John- I know in that moment I will most definitely fall in love with him, he will most definitely break my heart so I stop it at the handshake. I get tempted. But I know better, now. They each held a different type of love for me- a young one, an unrequited one, and one where I fell in love with who I thought he was. Still the heartbreak felt the same. It was devastating. It only took 3 Johns to break my heart for the name to die for me. Dead to me. It only took eleven years to figure out that Johns and Kates just don’t work. I just realized TLC and the antics of reality television shows have proven this without a doubt.

What was wrong with these Johns beyond the typical venus v. mars, bad timing, we met too young, he didn’t know what he wanted, she didn’t know want she wanted, the x-girlfriend came back bs. They all were unemotionally available which as an overemotional female suited me just fine. Like too many emotions + not enough = pure happiness and bliss. Math failure, I think. I think they might have a fatal flaw of sorts. Well 2 were certifiably crazy. Yes, loony tunes. Both had mental breaks, one when I knew them, one when our love affair was distant in the rearview. Another was scared of failure so much he never tried. Never tried. Really. Not just with me but in life. Which actually might have made him much more heartbreaking than the crazy two. He had a brush with death, he might not live a long life. But he remained unchanged and let life pass him by. Me too. I gave him too many tries. The last time I saw him he was in a hospital bed. The time before that I made out with him at his sister’s house. And I haven’t seen him since except the hospital of course. That is no way to say goodbye. No way to say goodbye. The confines of the hospital bed saved us from a conversation of what would happen next. But what would happen next? Next. Nothing. Nothing. Something again. Not so sure.

So every time I hear the name, John, I feel a twinge, I feel my heart pound, I feel repulsed and nostalgic all at once. I hear John and I stop, I stop and think and a smile may begin on my face. Because although John never worked out for me it didn’t mean I couldn’t love the John’s from afar. That might be the only way. Dear John, please don’t write me a letter. Please just stay, stay far away, far away. Except if you are different than these Johns before. Maybe I can resurrect the name, for the right John of course. The right John- rules are meant to be broken. Rules of love, rules of love especially.