I realized the most romantic things ever said to me have always been done when the dude is on the way out. Has it been the same for you?
Met a dude years ago during Canadian Music Week – he was up here from the States playing shows with his band. I never got to hear them but he and I had a marathon all-night conversation. At the end, I obviously felt a little connection with him or I wouldn’t have spent that much time chatting. We exchanged emails, hugged and went our separate ways. I checked out his band when I got home and was thoroughly impressed. He emailed me a few weeks later and thus begun our electronic courtship. I liked the romance of it all: writing and reading about each others lives, sending traditional mail and building feelings based off the way we spoke to each other. Six months into this he found out he’d return to the city for CMW again. Once we knew that, the months snailed along.
The day he arrived, I could barely concentrate at work. I raced home and tried to watch TV to waste time but it took FOREVER. Then I hear the buzzer; like an idiot I didn’t ask who it was and just buzzed them in. I opened my apartment door and remember just looking through the smallest opening down the hall. And then I would open it wide and stand in the middle of the hallway. Then I ran back into my apartment and locked the door and put on the chain. Rinse, wash, repeat until I heard footsteps on the landing. By the time I saw him turn the corner I was about to run inside and lock the door, but then he was there. He…was there. I squealed so loud and so high I assumed he would just pat me on the head and say, “That’ll do, pig. That’ll do.” Instead, I ran toward him in slow motion and somehow hug-tackled him. I may or may not have kneed him in his left nut – my memory is obviously hazy. We spent the duration of CMW together and then he was gone again. The MINUTE he left and I closed my door, I called my best friend and just bawled like a baby. Niagara Falls fell with no apologies from my eyes. I knew what I was getting myself into, my besties did too but we were (and still are) of the mind that you just live it out. Live life to the fullest, put everything in it so that the highs are as high as they can be. But those lows are hella low.
He and I continued our long distance-ness for awhile longer. We even dropped L-bombs because as Colonel Sanders is my witness, I was in love with this guy. Now, here’s the kicker: he thought I deserved someone else. Someone better. We had many a-heated argument with me yelling I should decide what I deserve and him telling me I was crazy for wanting him. Eventually it fizzled, not because we felt any less for each other…the feelings were all there. We couldn’t see eye-to-eye on what we thought each of us should want from each other. During our last conversation, he quietly and simply said, “You’re the type of girl who makes guys cross borders” and then he hung up. *single blink* Try sitting with THAT for a moment. Mindbomb – that isht will tick-tock in your brain stem until it explodes. I wanted to slice off his Adam’s apple and marry him at the same time. It was a beautiful thing to say and I hated him for it. If this were a movie, that would be the quotable I walked away with. I can picture myself walking out of a movie theatre to call a friend and have this conversation:
“OMG! Did you see ‘She Won’t Be Loved’ this weekend?! The part with the phone call, right? I know. I KNOW! I can’t believe he said that to her. I thought it was super cute too – damn him!”
Anyway, it took me a long time to get over him (by the by, he’s married and extremely happy these days). It was hard for me to move past that one statement. I kept focusing on the “girl” part of what he said. If I’m this “girl” he speaks of, why the hell is he not going to come across the border again. I mean, he did it before, right?! What was wrong with ME? Why wasn’t I enough? Then one day, a few years ago, that mindbomb went off.
I was ALWAYS that girl…he just wasn’t that guy.
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