I had this boyfriend last year whose name was Bobby Jameson. He was never really my boyfriend and his name isn’t really Bobby Jameson. (I’m just calling him that for the sake of this blog so that is real identity remains anonymous.) Bobby Jameson and I used to date pretty seriously. Well actually, the words “date” and “serious” are a somewhat of an exaggeration to the story as well. We actually only went out on onereal date together and all the other times we hung out were spent at each other’s apartments watching TV (mostly 90210; we both had a bit of an obsession with the series). Our TV watching ritual lasted for several months last year…pretty much every Friday night (and only on Friday nights). And then just like that, our relationship was over.
Bobby Jameson’s apartment was incredible! I often find myself still thinking about it today. Every once in a while I even find myself doing a drive by, secretly pretending that Bobby Jameson’s home is my own. Sure, Bobby Jameson was cute, smart, tall, and funny. But it was his apartment that I loved so much. He lived by himself and had a three bedroom/three bathroom apartment in San Francisco’s Marina District! (A large apartment is unheard of in this city. Typically anyone who lives in a three bedroom apartment has two roommates and only one bathroom.) Being a girl who lives in a studio apartment herself, it’s not surprising how easily impressed I was with his three bedroom/three bathroom palace.
I still remember the first time I discovered Bobby Jameson’s second bathroom upstairs. (Yup, I said upstairs. His apartment not only had three bedrooms but it was also sprawled out on to two floors! And he had a garage and a washing machine and dryer in the unit too….but whatever. Things like this aren’t good enough reasons to date a guy. Or are they?)
The first Friday night I visited his apartment, I used a bathroom upstairs that was just so pretty and perfect. I remember, after drying my hands on the soft, plush, hand towel with Bobby Jameson’s initials embroidered on it, that this bathroom alone was enough of a reason to fall in love with him.
The next Friday night, I returned to the same bathroom with the embroidered hand towel only to discover that there was a plunger in the toilet. I wasn’t quite sure what to do about the situation and I certainly didn’t want to ask Bobby Jameson to take the plunger out of the toilet on my behalf. As I was contemplating my next move in the hallway outside the pretty little bathroom, out of nowhere, a whole new wing to Bobby Jameson’s apartment emerged that I definitively had not seen the Friday night before. There in front of me was a third bedroom and a third bathroom! I blinked a few times to make sure that what I was staring at was indeed real. Once confirming that this new wing to his apartment was real, I happily locked myself in the new bathroom and took in all of my new surroundings. This bathroom was even more impressive than the original bathroom I had used the Friday before. It had double sinks and a bathtub with jets! I knew the instant that I laid eyes on those jets, that Bobby Jameson just had to be the love of my life.
As much as I had dreamed about Bobby Jameson and I ending up happily married like Donna and David from 90210, our Friday night relationship eventually fizzled, (much like the relationship of Brandon and Kelly). And even though I wanted nothing more but to move into the castle of Bobby Jameson, my dream became far from a reality. Just thinking about it makes me sad.
I can’t help but wonder if it will ever be possible to date a guy again who has so many bedrooms and bathrooms? I feel like Bobby Jameson is such a rare breed in San Francisco. Should have I tried harder to make it work between us? Should we have watched other TV programs besides 90210? To only think, if Bobby Jameson and I were still together today, I would be writing this blog from the comfort of a bubble bath as opposed to the cafe with free Internet access.
