What if....?

A recent post by Lecram asked for that one moment you would want to remain in for all eternity. I pondered that for days: settling on one moment Thursday, only to discard and replace it with another on Friday, and then onto a different one on Saturday. And this is supposed to be a good thing? To last for eternity? Geez, almost seems like Hell to have to select only one.
So of course, since my (current) philosophy is “rules, schmules, we don’t need no stinking rules!” I decided, “What the heck. How about writing about a moment in your life that only in hindsight, do you realize was a crossroads?” You know, those seemingly (at the time) inconsequential moments that you look back on and say, “Hey! What if I had done ‘x’ instead of ‘y’?” What if I had stayed in Nebraska? What if I didn’t start skydiving? What if? One of my favorite whatifs, is Dominic.
Ah…..Dominic. Dom was Italian, and spoke little English. He came out to the drop zone one Saturday morning with (I think) his cousin. He wanted to, “how-a you say? I-a, wan to-a shjump from plane, yes?”
Geez, one look at his bod, and I just wanted to bounce on his abs….seriously.
But what was I thinking? I was “in a relationship” with Mike. I had to stop looking at those abs….those eyes…..dear lord those thighs….. And yet, there stood Dom in front of me, chest and leg straps undone.
“AirplaneShjayne. You-a help me, yes?”
Stop staring Shjay—jayne! Think about Mike! Your relationship! What relationship? More like a joke! Oh yeah, I was in a relationship. I had stopped seeing anyone else. I had decided that Mike was “the one.” Only one problem left with this relationship: I was the only one in it! Mike was still sowing wild oats.
But back to Dom….ahhh, Dom….with dangling leg straps.
I couldn’t let him jump from a plane looking like that now, could I? So I tightened up those leg straps, hooked that chest strap, (went to the store about 6 times in a row), and helped him put his helmet on.
“Follow me, Dom.”
And follow me he did – for the rest of the weekend! I had him eating dirt while jumping off the platform doing practice landings, and he fed me chocolate. He told me of his home in Italy, and I told him emergency procedures. I showed him how to pack a parachute, and he showed me his 6-pack abs. Before I knew it, it was Sunday afternoon, and time for him to shum –err - jump.
“Shjayne…”
“Sorry, Dom? Did you say something?”
“Shjayne….I’m a, how you say? Leetle nervous. Ah, maybe you can-a stand where I land, no?”
So, I stood where he would land. And land he did. Lordy, lordy with those beautiful arms (not to mention abs and thighs) he hugged me and whispered, “Shjayne. I would-a like to see you, yes? Maybe dinner, say, tomorrow in town, no? Here is-a where I am staying. Please say you’ll come?”
So fast forward to the next day. I went through the day on auto-pilot – just waiting for the five-o’clock whistle to blow, so I could too! Damn the torpedoes, and relationship be damned! I was tired of the double standard! I was going to eat Italian!! I threw open the door, stepped into the parking lot, strode confidently towards my car, gave a defiant tilt of my chin to Mike –
“Err -- Mike!?! What are you doing here?”
“Hey sweetheart. I—ahh—I thought you’d like to go to dinner. With me.”
Dinner with Mike?
Dinner with Dom?
Stay the course, or jump ship?
I could almost hear the Clash singing: “Come on and let me know: Should I stay or should I go?”
Argh, no time for the indecision that was bugging me. I had to choose.

And I chose Mike.

So, in hindsight, there was one major crossroad in my life: I chose to stay with Mike. Would I go back and take that other branch, knowing what I do now?

Probably not…..

But oh Lordy, lordy, do I remember those abs….and eyes…..and mercy me, those thighs…