A Love Life's Lessons Unlearned

Ellie May


I have always avoided terms like prodigy or genius. Some kids enjoyed the jungle gym and participated in athletics when they were in grade school, and some were musically inclined. And while I was and am still pretty health conscious, and I enjoy the occasional White House concert, my interests were always in the whys and wherefores of the world. Learning wasn't something I had to work for. Gaining knowledge was fun for me, and I have always been good at it. Sailing on the other hand took a while to master. In many ways I'm prouder of that accomplishment than of anything else. I got dunked overboard more times then people know, and made a lot of mistakes along the way. But I learned. George Santayana once said, "Those who do not learn from history are doomed to repeat it." Words to live by, and I try to take a lesson from every, if not mistake exactly, then experience.

Which is why I can't understand why I seem to be repeating the same romantic miscues I made when I was 12.

The first girl I ever loved that was not a family member was Catherine Reed, my best friend's older sister, my babysitter and our next door neighbor. A triple threat. She was fourteen and skinny and sunburned eight months out of the year. She was amazing. I followed her around faithfully and she would let me read her high school textbooks. To this day I can't hear a line from Romeo and Juliet without a little thrill. My unrequited love was shattered when she turned down a chance to watch me in order to date some dim sophomore who didn't know a Montegue from a Capulet. Lesson one- Never fall for an older woman. They're nothing but trouble.

I bounced back pretty quickly though, and fell for the new girl in school. Her name was Julie, and she was almost as tall as our teacher. She was quiet and sweet and was smarter than people seemed to realize. We were just beginning to become friendly when her father was transferred back to her old hometown. Lesson two-Never fall for a tall girl.

High school went fairly smoothly for me. Not only academically, but in the romantically as well. I finally grew a few more inches, and had one or two pretty, bright, all-American girl friends by the time I had graduated. That's the beauty of Southern California- almost any girl fits the description of an all-American girl. I think there was an amendment to the State constitution to that affect, but I would have to look it up. Dating was of secondary importance to me, especially as senior year and college application deadlines loomed. For some reason, whenever I decided I needed to concentrate on school, some girl (way out of my league) would invariable ask me out.
Now, although I avoid the term prodigy, I certainly am smart enough to say yes to a pretty girl and a dark movie theatre. The only lesson I can grasp from this is one Josh seems to live by-Women love a guy who acts disinterested.

This brings me to college and Lisa, or as Josh still calls her, THE Lisa. She and I met our junior year at Princeton, and when we applied to law school, Duke was the only school where we both felt comfortable. Once we had degree in hand, Lisa convinced me to forgo the political life and sign on to work at Cage Whitney where she had been hired. Not only would we be living together for the first time, we would be working together as well. This is a lesson that cost me a lot, both mentally and emotionally. Working with your significant other can only put a strain on your relationship. We were in trouble long before Josh and his poker face came and threw me a lifeline to Nashau.

Fast forward to a couple of years later and a few more false starts, and I find myself learning two very important lessons in a very brief time. They are lesson five and six respectively. (For some reason I find it impossible to separate these two women in my mind, although they have little in common beyond a tertiary relationship to yours truly. I think it's because I inadvertently gave myself a mental picture of them kissing. *G It really is a shame such a photo doesn't exist. )

But I digress. Lesson five is that one night stands are almost always more trouble then they are worth. That is, I mean, not to say that my time with Laurie was not worthwhile, it was , it's just that, uhh, maybe the lesson was to quit while you're ahead, or to make sure there are no photographers within a five-mile radius. I'm not sure. This particular event in my life is a little tricky to pin down.

Lesson six, however, announced itself loud and clear. Never, and I mean NEVER, get on a redhead's bad side. Not only will you not enjoy her wrath in your personal life, if she happens to be your boss's daughter, work won't be very fun either. Add to this the pronouncement that there will be no sex, OF ANY KIND, at the end of the evening, and I'm pretty sure you can see why this relationship never got beyond the hypothetical stage.

And finally, lesson seven-Ainsley Hayes, the blonde Republican sex kitten who kicked my ass on Capital Beat. For the record, I am not holding a grudge. I don't care what she tells you. And, allow me to just say, she's suprisingly flirtatious for someone who's against almost everything I believe in. And, she drinks pink girly drinks. And she ate every scrap of food left over from rewriting the correspondents' dinner speech, including an eggroll that I had specifically kept hidden. OK, I may still be holding a small grudge. But I did learn something from the experience. I find that I am a little leery of women who are naturally comfortable in front of the camera. Anyone who can be that articulate and in control when faced with a room full of press would have no problem turning around and making me cry like a little boy and then calling my mother and telling her about it . . .

Which leads me to my dilemma. For the past two months, and despite my best efforts, I have developed a full blown, tongue tied, trip over your shoes crush on someone that makes all my other mistakes look minor league.

She's older than me.
She's taller than me.
She's been a witness to some of my most dweebish and uncool moments since puberty hit.
She is my coworker.
She is a redhead with a temper to match.
She is charming and in control of the press at all times.
And I am fairly certain one night would never be enough.

*Sigh.*

I have always avoided the term prodigy, but I know a long shot when I see one. But then again, I didn't give up on sailing just because I got thrown overboard a couple of times either. And if a man is meant to learn from his experiences, I am confident CJ Cregg would make an extraordinary teacher. All I have to do is convince her.

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