06/30/2010 06:15 pm ET Updated May 25, 2011

My Achilles Heel

"Greek God" is neither Greek, nor a God per se, but I swear to you ladies, his body is what the Greek Gods were modeled after. This man is universally handsome. If you ask my friend Dave, he will tell you that I have a weakness for a specific type. That type is very tall, muscular, big blue eyes and a strong chiseled jaw. He's right. Men with great bodies and chiseled features are my Achilles' Heel, but then again, what girl doesn't lust after a man who looks like Adonis? Greek God had all of these traits topped off with an amazing set of dimples. He was the first man I met online when I moved to Chicago. He was beautiful and I hate to say it...a little out of my league.

Greek God and I emailed back and forth for almost three weeks before actually meeting. I was close to giving up on him when he finally asked me to dinner. He asked me where I lived so that we could meet me at my apartment and then walk over to the restaurant together. I told him my street name and he laughed and told me that he lived on the same street. Turns out, he and I lived right across the street from each other and didn't even know it. I should note that my old street is one of the shortest blocks in Lakeview, so what are the chances? I took this as a sign and decided to take my time getting ready because who knows...this could be the one! He buzzed the doorbell and I was immediately nervous. I took one last quick look in the mirror to check my hair and makeup (you know, the kind of makeup that takes forever to apply just to look natural?!), grab my jacket, and run down the stairs.

There he was. I recognized him immediately. He's the man that I have been checking out every day on his way back from the gym with his bulging muscles and amazing forearms, the man that I literally ran into in the grocery store while trying to find the Special K with Strawberries Cereal, the man who would meet my gaze and smile when passing by on the street. I immediately let out a nervous giggle. He laughed and said, "What? You don't like what you see?" I just smiled because I really wanted to say, "Are you kidding? Do you mind sitting through dinner with your shirt off? That would be great, thanks." Instead I said, as casually as possible, "I totally recognize you. I've seen you on the street I think." He said, "You're the girl from the grocery store aren't you? I wanted to talk to you, but you hurried out of there so quickly I didn't have a chance." Swoon. I was instantly convinced it was fate finally intervening in my love life. Bless you Special K with Strawberries, bless you.

We had an amazing time at dinner and then continued the date with drinks afterward at a bar around the corner from our places. The date ended with him walking me to the door and giving me the most swoon-worthy kiss imaginable. It was the stuff that romance novels are made of and I was completely smitten.

We ended up seeing each other pretty consistently over the next couple of weeks, and after our fifth date, I stopped checking my online profile because I was ready to see where things with the Greek God were headed.

Right around this time, I had lunch with my friend Kelly, who was also on this particular dating website at the time. Over chips and salsa, she asked me if I had met anyone worthwhile online, and I proceeded to tell her about the Greek God, and right in the middle of my diatribe about his ab muscles, she looked at me with her nose all scrunched up and said, "Wait. What did you say his name was?" I told her, and she started laughing and said, "Gena, I have been out with him three times! We just slept together last night!"

Ok, now, I want to set the record straight here. I'm not stupid. I know men date multiple women at once, and don't be fooled guys, women do it as well. However, I have realized that the difference between the way men do it and the way women do it is this: women stop dating other people when they become intimate and men don't.

I was livid. Not only because he was obviously sleeping around, but he was sleeping around with my good only friend in this city at the time, to boot! Out of all of the girls on he picked two friends? What are the chances? I guess it was partially my fault for not being straightforward and telling him that I wanted to be monogamous, but I have realized, as of late, that I apparently like to live in the gray area in relationships. It's easier to justify actions and not get hurt when things aren't so black and white and defined (future therapists out there, please spare me the diagnosis on that one...I already know what you're going to say).

I immediately called him out on it at dinner that night. He stuttered and gave me some BS excuse about how he wasn't sure what I wanted and that he didn't think anything was wrong with dating around etc, etc. When the truth was, he just didn't think he would get caught. At that moment I realized that I couldn't date this man and was ready to forget he ever existed -- that was, until I had three quick memories flash through my head: 1) our first kiss, 2) the way he pulled his shirt off from the back over his head and 3) the way we just fit together when we snuggled. Sigh. Done and done.

It was never discussed that we weren't going to date, but I think it was a silent understanding that we were only good to each other in one way. This "relationship" continued for over a year until he moved to Lincoln Park. Things weren't as fun anymore when I would have to hop in a taxi for a little booty, as opposed to just crossing the street. The frequency of our visits became less and less until they stopped all together. The last time that I spoke to him was Thanksgiving of this year, when he sent me a text saying, "Happy Thanksgiving beautiful! Lets get together when you're back in town." I texted him a couple weeks after I had gotten back to Chicago with a casual, "Whatcha up to?" He responded with, "Living with my girlfriend." Ouch. That one stung a little. That was the last time I had spoken to him.

Flash forward to yesterday at lunch and my new boss and I are eating at Bice. The place is so crowded that on our way to our table we have to squeeze by three men leaving the restaurant. The first man looks at me and smiles and says excuse me, as does the second one. The third man I notice has stopped dead in his tracks and is staring at me as if he was a deer in headlights. It's the Greek God. Our conversation goes like this:

Me: Oh, ummm, hey. Its been a while.
Greek God: Uh, hey. How are you?
Me: I'm, ummm, pretty good and you?
Greek God: Cool, I'm good.
Me: Well, ok then. Gotta run, I've got people waiting for me.

Could that have been any more awkward? I think not. The only comfort I took away from that interaction was the fact that he looked 15lbs heavier than the last time I saw him. The man now looks more like Adonis' chubby cousin. Which at first brought a slight grin to my face, which actually faded just as quickly because then I thought he was probably fat and happy.

And that folks, is the story of my life. Chicago is a large city, yet it never fails. I am constantly running into people I don't want to see at the most random times. I sometimes wonder if God is playing tricks on me. Like, he thinks it's funny or something to taunt me like this and put me in awkward situations, as if it will get me back into church or something. Well, I've got news for you, it's going to take a little more than that because these awkward run-ins are becoming like second nature for me. I'm pretty sure that I can handle them in my sleep at this point. Bring it on!

P.S. God, if you're reading this, I am only kidding. Please don't give me more awkward run-ins unless they will make for good blog stories. I think I have had enough. So much so that I have thought about becoming a nun if you would bend the rules and let me wear makeup and three inch heels. Amen.