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Dear Breakup Girl,

OK, it's me, Latina Lover, taking a break from running everyone else's love life [See Shoutouts. -- BG.] and looking for some guidance in mine. And any dame who loves "Babe" and ice hockey is one I know I can trust.

First of all, I am kinda like a man when it comes to sex; that is, I like a LOT of it -- all the time, with all kinds of people. I greatly enjoy happy, emotion-free sexual encounters and have had plenty of them. At the same time, I am capable of, and have had, serious long-term relationships. In between them, though, I am an admitted and voracious sex hound, not to mention a source of amazement to my friends. I'm rarely troubled by what your friend so wisely dubbed Scarf Syndrome; if it does happen, then it's fleeting and mild. (Oh, and yes, I always practice safe sex and have never contracted anything worse than a hangover from these encounters.)

Second, when I'm in a serious relationship, I am a monument to fidelity. I've never even felt the desire to cheat when I'm in love. I also refuse to touch married men, guys with girlfriends, and coworkers at all times. (OK, this isn't to tell you what a cool and upstanding person I am; it's just to lay down the groundwork for what has recently happened and why it's thrown me for such a wacky loop.)

Anyway: About three weeks ago, I went off on a business trip to a city a couple of states away. I was cranky about going and didn't want to leave behind my adorable boyfriend back home. (It's been a few months; things are very cool with us, but there's no serious commitment. Still, I'm not sleeping with or dating anyone else, nor do I want to.)

Part of my work, when I travel, involves setting up installations and working with construction and labor crews. On this particular venture, I'm set to go, it's the first day, and the union sends me over a three-man team; all is proceeding as normal.

Except (you can probably plot this one already), one of the men walks up to me to get his orders, asks me one question, and I am literally unable to do more than nod. I can't speak a single word as my eyes lock onto his and every nerve ending in my body begins screaming, "WANT WANT NEED NEED MUST HAVE WILL HAVE." We spend the next 2-3 hours working and flirting outrageously, with our eyes locking and loading every five minutes. (The work, by the way, gets done in record time!)

Well, the air is so thick with innuendo that I'm expecting the guy to ask me out when we're done, but he doesn't. I shrug and go on, thinking, "Well, that was fun, but now it's on to work and in a week, back to Boyfriend," whom I miss terribly by the way.

Fast forward one week; we have to dismantle one installation, and sure enough, the union sends me the same crew (to be honest, that's standard practice and by this point I was desperate to see Construction Creampuff again, so I can assure you I have never been so devoted to making sure that all procedures complied to union regulations!)

So that night, he does ask me out, and we go out for drinks and dinner although it's pretty clear, I think, what the actual agenda is. At any rate, I surprise myself by having a truly great time; he's fun, funny as hell, sweet, wacky, and eccentric (just the way I like 'em), and he's interesting to talk to -- not at all the dumb-but-cute types I've had other flings with. (In fact, he's not even all that cute, though something about him had exerted humongous attraction.)

Anyway, the evening ends as expected, back in my lovely deluxe hotel room, and things go from good to great. I mean, Breakup Muchacha, it's like something out of a movie; we're laughing nonstop; we're having deep heartfelt discussions about everything under the sun; the sex is something to sing hosanna about; and we stay up all night talking and singing along to sappy songs on the radio. The next morning, he has to rush off to work but says he'll see me later, When I say, "No, actually, you won't; I'm working somewhere else today, and then I'm going home," he says, "Don't worry, I'll find you."

Well, that day I'm working in another nearby location with a bunch of my coworkers (and another labor crew entirely), and he not only finds me, but finds an excuse to come in and hang around even though he's technically not contracted to be there. He makes several lame excuses to hang around and to talk to me, but I'm swamped in work, and then a foreman appears and hauls him off to a job somewhere on the other side of the city. And that's the last we see of each other.

Except that since I've been back home, I CAN'T stop thinking about him. I'm happy with Boyfriend, but I keep thinking about Construction Creampuff and going quietly bananas. I know this is crazy, but I honestly feel that there was some kind of weird connection there. And not just on my side. Look, I've had flings on other business trips and never thought about them twice. This one just feels totally, totally different.

Here's my question: I have his name, and it'd be pretty easy to track down his phone number. Should I call him? I truly want to, but I'm also petrified. What if he doesn't remember me or want me getting in touch? What if he thinks I'm nuts? What if he's married? (He said he was single, no girlfriends, but he could have been lying, right?)

I guess I'm just curious to see if what I felt really was there, and what, if anything, I can do about it. I feel so crazed and whacked-out that I'd willingly get on the next flight out to that city, just to spend a weekend with him. But if I do call: what do I say? (There are several people with his name in the phone book so I'd have to do some questioning to make sure it was him; this could be embarrassing!) Or should I just drop the whole thing and chalk it up to my first serious bout with the oxytocin (see Mary) effect? I just don't think that's all this is, though.

What do you think? To be honest, I probably will call him no matter what you say, in which case perhaps you can prescribe some steps that will ensure damage control for my pride, not to mention my heart.

--Latina Lover

Dear Latina Lover,

Did you send a different draft of this letter to Penthouse Forum? I hope so.

Now. To your What Ifs, I say -- gently -- this: So what? I truly believe your claim that "this one's different," but, as I told Lysistrata (above), wouldn't he then be worth the risk? And if he doesn't (or didn't) respond in kind (which I am, frankly, worried about -- if he found you once, shouldn't he be able to find you again?), well, big huge heinous bleah. Ow yuck bad. But at least you -- as you describe -- have a pre-labeled file for these totally fun non bad-feeling-making flings.

Speaking of "risk" and "bad-feeling-making," though, there remains, um, Adorable Boyfriend. Think: if you find (found) Construction Guy, are you willing to risk AB? And if CG winds (wound) up condemned, will you be able to sweep away all the sawdust? Will longing -- or guilt -- have eaten through the foundation of your relationship, relatively thin-walled though it may be? Just make sure to do some damage control there, too.

Love,
Breakup Girl

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