On a cold December evening, I was awakened in the middle of the night. There, standing next my bed, was the ghost of Carrie Bradshaw! (Okay, so I know Carrie isn’t technically dead, but work with me here.) Before I could even ask what my fellow female dating columnist was doing in my bedroom, she said to me, “Gina, we have both spent years searching for The One, chronicling our failures and sharing our lessons. But when will you know that you have truly found him? I am here to help you figure that out.” Still stunned that Carrie Bradshaw was in my bedroom—and finding myself distracted by the fabulous Swarovski-crystal-encrusted shoes she was wearing—I managed to ask her, “How are you going to do that?” She answered, “You will be visited by three more ghosts this evening: The Ghosts of Boyfriends Past, Present, and Future.” And then she disappeared.
Realizing that these ghosts may come in the form of my actual boyfriends, I hurried out of bed to brush my teeth and put on sexier pajamas than the Winnie the Pooh ones I was currently wearing.
The Ghost of Boyfriends Past arrived and looked exactly like my first boyfriend Bill. He sat me on my couch and played a movie reel of all my past relationships. He pointed out how in each relationship once I fell in love, I fell hard and convinced myself that this was the man I would marry. But then he reminded me that, deep down, I knew they weren’t The One. “Trust your instincts, Gina,” he said and then disappeared.
Next, I got a text from the Ghost of Boyfriends Present saying, “I’m not coming because you don’t have a boyfriend right now.” Fair enough.
Finally, the Ghost of Boyfriends Future arrived, and it was a dream come true! David Beckham! His first words, however, were, “Don’t get your hopes up, Gina. You don’t actually date me in the future. I’m just the messenger.” Man, what a buzzkill. He then said, “But rest assured, Gina, this is your future,” and handed me a photo. It was of me, with a husband and two kids, minus one key detail. “Hey! I can’t see my husband’s face!” I said. “You’ll know him when you meet him,” David said, with a roguish wink. And then, sadly, he was gone.
When I woke the next morning I realized it was all a dream. But while Carrie and the ghosts didn’t teach me anything I didn’t already know, it was still a fun dream. And yes, I know a dream isn’t gospel, but it’s comforting to believe that a family of my own is in my future . . . even if it’s not with David Beckham.