Paul.

Paul, Paul, Paul.

There's something about that name. The planets align and cause major life shifts to happen when I encounter any man named Paul.

Let us begin with my first Paul. The only man, a boy really when I knew him, who has evoked feelings in me that held the potential for me to fall in love. Do you know what I'm talking about? When you're attracted to someone and it's powerful and consuming and it has this shine to it, this shimmering effervescence that has the possibility of becoming something cataclysmic. Where your body and your heart are teetering on the edge of the love abyss and all it takes is getting to know that person intimately, physically and emotionally, and love gravity takes hold and pulls you down until you're hopelessly lost. And you don't mind in the slightest. Completely different from love is this in love business. Strong emotions both, but as different as night and day. Maybe this first Paul has made me partial to that name. Perhaps.

Then there is our very own Paul, aka Coujeaux. A man who has become an incredible friend to me. I discovered where the other half of my brain has been hiding all these years - he had possession of it and the bastard didn't even have the decency to tell me. Talking to Paul is like putting on an old favorite flannel shirt that's been worn until it fits only you. It's comfortable and familiar and you never want to give it up, no matter how many holes or tears it gets through the years. Good friends like that don't happen all the time. Another thunderbolt of an entirely different kind.

This latest Paul is the man with whom I had a job interview today. My reaction to him was purely physical. He lit up every sexual neuron I have. Tall, gorgeous - but in an accessible way, floppy black hair, intelligent eyes, intensity, very dry wit, sexy smile, and great hands. Wow. Of course, as my luck would have it, he's happily married with children. If I get this job he will be one of my superiors. Please, just kill me now. *insert dramatic rolling of the eyes here*

Three different Pauls. All of them special. Each of them meaningful to me in different ways - love, friendship, and physical attraction, respectively. Merely because they share the same first name? It could be. There could be something floating around out there in the karmic cosmos that has destined me to encounter incredible men named Paul and have them be significant to me. Perhaps somewhere there is a new Paul waiting for me. A Paul who will evoke those wonderful, aching shimmering feelings and he'll bring me to the precipice where I will happily fall down, head over heels.

There really is no way of knowing. All I can say is this: any time I come in contact with a man named Paul - my internal radar starts going crazy. Be it conditioning or fate, the advantage is yours should you be blessed with the name of Paul.

Paul. Let me take you back to 6th grade at my elementary school. We didn't have a junior high at that point in time. I was in a combined 6th/7th grade class at Richmond Street Elementary School. Paul was in 7th grade. He was my first and so far only thunderbolt.

Of course, I'd had crushes on guys before. There were the requisite celebrity puppy love things with the Fonz, Donny Osmond, Shaun Cassidy, the list goes on. Fellow kids-wise, there was Mike and Robert in 3rd grade (at different times, mind you). In 4th grade I liked this red-headed boy but I'll be damned if I can remember his name. 5th grade was Jason. All of them ephemeral whiffs of hormones gone wild.

Then there was Paul. I remember passing out Christmas cards that year and making sure I gave him the nicest one. Silly things we do with our adolescent crushes.

There were a bunch of us who used to hang out after school playing tag in the park at the library across the street. I was inordinately pleased by the fact that he would pay attention to me while we were all chasing each other around. In retrospect, he was simply a nice boy playing a game with his friends but it meant so much to me at the time.

Next school year rolled around and Paul was off to the high school (part of a 4-year experimental thing that had our high school hosting grades 8-12 - my class was the last one to do that). I soon stopped obsessing about Paul and moved on to a long-legged guy named Jim who played basketball.

Again, another school year rolled around and here I was over at the high school. I can vividly recall sitting in my first year Spanish class one day and hearing someone mention Paul's name as being in another one of the 1st year Spanish classes and having aced a test. My ears pricked up just like a cat who has heard the can opener. Paul. My thunderbolt - all over again. He was not to be the only recipient of my adoration that year, however. Another boy named Eric, who was in my Social Studies class, and Bruce Springsteen were also chosen ones.

Moving right along to junior year of school. I'd had other crushes during my 9th and 10th grade years but Paul had always been there. A constant on my romantic radar. Junior year I'm in Spanish 3. Guess who I ended up sitting behind? That's right. For the first time, I began speaking to Paul. Getting to know him. It was heaven. My crush turned into full-blown like. Was I courageous to do anything about it? Hell no! Besides, he ended up going out with my friend JoAnn for the rest of his time in high school. Figures, huh?

He graduated that year and there was no more Paul in my life. I moved on, had boyfriends. Sex. All those wonderful things people do. Paul's always been there, though. In the back of my mind, swimming through my subconscious. He'd pop up now and then when I'd see something we'd talked about or he'd wander through my dreams. On one prophetic occasion, I dreamt that he told me to stop thinking about him. I didn't obsess about him or try to find him with any great degree of effort. He's just always been with me.

I've seen him once since high school. At his 10-year reunion. I was working at a real estate agency at the time and was in a superficial phase. I ended up being mildly bitchy and not having the guts to talk to him. Still kicking myself for that to this day.

The point to this little story? Some months ago, my best friend (who was in high school with me and has endured the Paul obsession with me) saw his name at Classmates.com. Holy shit! Yep, that was my reaction. I finally managed to scrape up the cash to pay for the Gold membership thing and did further scraping to come up with enough nerve to send him a "hey how's it going?" e-mail last night. I heard back from him this morning. He's got a girlfriend and 2 kids. Am I disappointed? Yeah, a bit. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't. Here's the thing though. When I first found out he was within reach via this e-mail deal, I decided that should I not be fortunate enough to experience a romantic epiphany type situation, I'd be fine with having him in my life as a friend than not at all. Maybe that's all Paul and I are meant to have. Who knows? All I know for sure is that way back when, he was an amazing guy who I liked a lot. Worst case scenario at this point, I've renewed a friendship. Works for me! We can use all the friends we can get in this world. It's been a freeing experience. I feel like I can finally tell my subconscious to take dream Paul's advice and stop thinking about him as he used to be.