I’ve never thrown a boomerang.
I have, however, been boomeranged.
Boomerangs are like dirty pennies: They keep showing up.
Or mysterious stains on your favorite shirt that, even when laundered, keep popping up. No, not when you pick them up at the cleaners. But when you pluck them from the closet as you’re running late to a date.
Artem is my boomerang. Artem was the international male model that I fell madly in love with two months ago. And like Carrie Bradshaw, both Mr. Big and Artem left us abandoned at the altar. For Carrie, it was literally an altar. For me, it was a five-star hotel in a chic part of Paris.
Abandoned. Desserted. Left for dead. Missing in action. Prisoner of love war. Holding the bag. Eggs in one basket. Left me in the lurch. Leftovers. Left out in the cold.
That’s when someone you’ve let go, like a lover that abandoned you at the altar or a hotel room in Paris, reappears in your present life dredging up all the shit that has finally settled at the bottom.
I enlist a gay dating site, Daddy Hunt, to browse men interested in meeting. I met Luciano, Jean-Baptiste, Jason, Peter, and David on the site. That’s also where I met Artem the first time, and precisely where I met Artem today, the second time.
There he was, on the same site that we met, with a different profile name, an unflattering photograph (for a model), and very, very cryptic personal information. I was mortified. I froze. I couldn’t decide whether I should ignore him, reply to him, or report him to the site as a scammer?
There’s something agonizing when you witness a former lover back on the prowl. And in Artem’s case, that’s precisely what he’s doing. Or rather, he’s pitching chum over the side of his boat in a sea of men, teasing the hungry to the surface to get lampooned.
Or worse, Boomeranged.