Bex and the Beach

Ugh. I'm a horrible blogger. I had great intentions of updating while I was in Connecticut for the Fourth, but I got side tracked. Like the time Joey decided to stay in Capeside with Dawson, but then realized she was in love with Pacey and sailed off around the Atlantic with him instead. Sorry, Daws, she really had good intentions, but Joe had to follow her heart. And I had to follow my heat-seeking skin and liver to the beach where there was sun and beer. I'm so healthy.

(That's what I was up against. ^)

Anyways, time to stop comparing my life to Dawson's Creek. But wait. Who am I kidding? It's never time to stop the DC parallels. Since nothing exciting is going on in my real-time love life, why not drudge up some old loves and relate them to characters from my favorite TV show? That doesn't seem lame and/or boring at all, right?

Let's talk about my first real love, aka Jack McPhee. I first laid eyes on Real Life Jack as I was cruising the streets of our beach association, barefoot and (probably) in pigtails. Suddenly, a boy darted in front of me, picked up an injured bird, nursed it back to life and turned out to be gay six years later.

Not one to be deterred so easily, I took the news of my love's sexuality and decided to transfer my affections to his brother. Young love -- so fickle. Beach brother turned out to be my Real Life Dawson, declaring his love, holding my hand on the sandbars, and being a truly huge moron when it came to making any kind of physical move on me. Unfortunately, in a turn of true Dawson-ness, brother uttered some insanely awkward and overthought words during a viewing of Muppets in Space and I broke up with him, leading him to hibernate and not eat for days. (Seriously! I was apparently a super vixen at 13. It sucks to peak young.)

Depressingly, there was not another brother for me to seduce or pine for over the cold winter months. Read: no Real Life Pacey Witter. Where are you, my Pacey? I live in freaking Boston, which is only forty-five minutes from Capeside  Cape Cod. Your type must wander into the big city to party every once in a while, no? Come hang out and save me from my sad life spent living vicariously through 1990s teen dramas. It would really help with the post-vacation slump... I'll be waiting.