Jon Bon Jovi Knows My Name

Dreams of a really classy life split between my New Jersey mansion and the southern coast of Spain crumbled.

One Sunday afternoon after a late night of bad decisions and worse luck, I was trying to sop up my hangover with a chili dog at Shady Grove, an Austin, Texas, haunt named after an adjacent trailer park.

Across the kitschy scene, through the fog of last night's margaritas, I see him: Jon. Bon. Jovi. The man-stuff of my middle-school dreams.

Jon. Bon. Jovi. How has the frontman from an '80s hair band from New Jersey managed to stay so cool? Or maybe he's not, and I'm too old to know it. I don't care. I love him. When Sarah Jessica Parker's character dated him on _Sex and the City,_ I about died (that's Texan for "near-fainting incident").

So you can imagine that when I spied him across the crowded trailer park-restaurant, through the fog of last night's margaritas, I was stunned. I was thrilled. This was my moment. I was livin' on a prayer.

Yes, I was already married to my soulmate, the husband of my future children, but when you get the chance to present yourself, heart and soul, to a man with a perfect smile, subtle highlights, and an enviable shag, you have to take it.

I did. There was frantic whispering at our table of friends: "That's Jon Bon Jovi. I know it. It _is!"_ Despite the lack of consensus, I approached.

"Um, hi!" I said nervously, knowing this moment mattered.

"Hey, Kate," he said.

Jon Bon Jovi knows my name. _Jon Bon Jovi Knows my name!_ The joy of this notion and its impact on my destiny swelled in my head. Sorry, soulmate. Sorry, future children. Mama is _wanted._ By JBJ. Dead or alive.

Stunned, thrilled, ready to start our life together, I looked more closely. He had slightly blonder hair than I remembered. A less-perfect smile. A less-rugged chin. A certain JBJ quality, to be sure, something sexy and...familiar.

He was not Jon Bon Jovi. He was a guy in a band with my college boyfriend. A guy who had always reminded me of Jon Bon Jovi.

"Hey," I said. We made awkward small talk, as my dreams of a really classy life split between my New Jersey mansion and the southern coast of Spain crumbled quietly in the background.

I returned sheepishly to the table. "It wasn't Jon Bon Jovi."

"We were wondering--you were over there a long time!"

"It was someone I knew."

"Oh."

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