Masochistic Googling

I wonder if anyone else indulges in the same sick behavior that I do on occasion, especially late at night, during my bouts of insomnia?

I take to "Googling" people from my past. I tend to Google men I've dated, to see what they look like, where they live, if they are married, etc. I guess I like to torture myself about why they never chose me, the mistakes I've made, or the life of exciting adventures I could have experienced if only I'd stayed with them--rather than living in my crappy one-bedroom with a serial killer bathroom in a not-so-desirable neighborhood in Brooklyn, living paycheck to paycheck.

To describe just a few, there was the high school crush who is now a graduate of Yale Drama School. He stopped seeing me because I was "too innocent," and apparently, to a high school boy who just wants to get laid, that is a bad thing (I suppose it's nice that he had a conscience, though).

Another, more recent beau, an Omani millionare and expert in nanotechnology, told me he loved me but couldn't see himself getting married any time soon, then about six months later told me he was getting engaged.

There's also the guy who, when I was dating him, lived at home with his folks, still sleeping in his little boy bed, was chubby, a bad dresser and drove a Subaru. He's now an oft-quoted web architect who directs a multi-million dollar design firm, runs five miles a day, lives in a $3000 a month apartment and is branching out into real estate development, in New York City.

Ah, and last but not least (well hardly last, really, as there have been so many) and the one no one ever believes, and if I dare mention his name, they look me over dismissively, as if to say, "No way, you just aren't hot enough," (especially my parents, who, maybe if they'd encouraged me a just little bit more would have some beautiful, multi-ethnic rugrats running around in pinstriped baby clothes sometime soon.) This one, who attended my university only briefly, and used to stare at me in my dormroom as I rambled excitedly about my first months as an idealistic college student, is now the captain of one of our nation's most popular baseball teams. Really, I don't even have to Google this guy, all I have to do is look up on billboards off the BQE or read the Daily News...


What may be worse is that I do this with women too sometimes. Apparently I like to make myself feel as crappy and unaccomplished as possible in all arenas. Hmm, maybe it is really my mom's fault. As soon as she could log onto to Google and learned to put specific things in quotes to search more accurately, she began to send me links to all of the other women with my same first and last name, who were, of course, far more accomplished than I. There is the comic memoirist, the playwright, the media buyer, the musician, the doctor. Yeh--maybe it's her fault that I spend hours Googling women I've crossed paths with--from elementary school to a chance meeting on the train, to compare my misadventures with theirs. There's my Claudia Schiffer lookalike, professional ice skater college roommate who is now some bigwig PR person for a major movie company, and is dating the son of a neighboring nation's former prime minister who also hosted their version of American Idol. Or how about my other gorgeous friend who used to work 60 hours a week, but recently married a very successful professional football player, who, I might add, asked me out first. And then stood me up. And then years later has no recollection of the event. But anyway, she now spends her days running a non-profit in his name, and her evenings meeting with Jacob the Jeweler. They honeymooned in Bali. The most exotic place I've recently visited is Fairview, New Jersey.


I really am sick, aren't I? I really need to find more productive things to do when I am up at 3:00am. You'd think maybe I would like, blog or something...