Why Bratislava will never replace Paris

Yesterday when I heard that President Bush is in Bratislava, Slovakia for the U.S.-Russian summit I couldn't help but laugh and remember my own ill-fated trip to Bratislava several years ago.

I was one of those girls who grew up believing in true love. I was certain that I would fall in love once with a great man and stick with him forever. I even saved myself for him when all the other girls in the trailer park were putting out in exchagne for bottles of Boone's Farm.

The luckiest man on earth back in 1991 turned out to be Rob. He was an officer in my unit in the Navy. He was from Texas, tall, southern accent, smooth talker, and both protective and patient with my innocence (if he could see me now!). He was my first love, my first everything, and for a couple of years life was perfect. Both in the Navy, fraternizing, christening Navy property all over the world, and living it up. He would call me and tell me to go to the airport to a ticket office, I wouldn't know where I was going until I got to the counter, and we would meet in some place I'd never been. We would travel somewhere nearly every weekend - to Paris, to the U.S., to Germany, Maui, you name it. Life was exciting and passionate.

Then I got out of the military and headed to college in another state. As happens when people are passionate, possessive and jealous thoughts consumed Rob. He called several times a day and questioned my whereabouts. This led to an ugly but passionate break-up that left me in the more advanced stages of first love heartbreak and him married to his high school sweetheart as an act of retaliation. He actually sent me a wedding invitation with a plane ticket and a note that said "If you show up I won't marry her". I sent the note and plane ticket to her. A gal should know what she's getting into, right? The wedding took place anyhow.

We all know I eventually moved on. I compared every man I met for the next couple of years to Rob and once I found out the unlucky soul wasn't a clone of Rob it was over. Rob would call me about every three months to chat and that would throw me into "What could have been" mode. You know the mode.

Then, one evening in the summer of 1995, the phone rang. It was Rob, he was in Europe working on a project for the State Department and needed to keep the conversation short. He said he had just three questions for me: 1. "Are you still single?", 2. "Do you have any vacation time?", and 3. "Do you want to meet me in Slovakia for a week or two?" Yes, yes and yes. Three weeks later I was on a plane to Slovakia to spend 10 days with Rob. I was so excited to see Rob again and all I could remember was how perfect he was for me, how great life had been.

Upon arrival, I primped in the bathroom to make sure I would look good before exiting the plane. I wanted everything to be just like old times. My haert was racing as I walked down the hall to baggage claim. Then I saw Rob. He had apparantly exchanged half his hair for a pot belly and a pair of highwaters. He came up to me and wrapped his clumsy arms around me and tried to kiss me. This was not the man I remembered from years gone by. Once I recovered from the initial shock and disappointment some signs of the old Rob began to emerge and I decided to just make the best I could out of the trip.

As soon as we got back to the hotel Rob was all over me. I was having trouble mustering any inkling of passion for him so I relied on pity and found the strength to go on. Besides, if I remembered correctly, he was the best lover ever.

Two hours later I found myself lying on my back, two mattress springs sticking into my arse, staring at a water stain on the ceiling of room 216 of the Hotel Bratislava (it didn't have the 'Topless Nightclub Paradise' back then) as Rob huskily whispered obscenities laced with a twinge of Texas accent in my ear while pumping away with his devastatingly small penis. Thank goodness it was over in a few minutes when he whooped and hollered and acted as if the Longhorns had just won the Fiesta Bowl prior to collapsing into a deep sleep.

The next morning, I feigned soreness after the previous night's activities, shared a room service breakfast of sardines and dumplings (traditional Slovakian fare) with Rob and kissed him goodbye as he went to work for a few hours. As soon as I saw him leave the building, I snuck off to the train station and caught the express to Vienna - somewhere I's always wanted to go and that I knew I could find little sausages much more satisfying than Rob's. To this day I still smile and remember the loss of the illusion of the perfect man whenever I see a Vienna sausage.