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Another Blog About Z

October 5, 2014

When did he become so important to me? He was just this young man who had asked me out to dinner. Then he was the cute, intense guy who kissed me with passion and held my hand. Then he was the guy I was having a fling with, the guy I connected with intensely, the best sex I’ve ever had.

He was the one who always knew what to say. The smile and eyes that intoxicated me. Then he was someone I waited for and talked to everyday. Somewhere along the way I fell in love. Then he was the guy I couldn’t let go of. The one who kept coming back. The impossible relationship. The guy standing at my door with pizza on New Year’s Day.

After a year or so of back and forth, of late nights and lazy mornings, chats and texts and long conversations, meals and walks in the rain, of knowing each other better and deeper, he became a friend. When I found myself sitting in Border Control at Ben Gurion Airport, he was the one I thought of. He was the one I texted. He was the one I knew would know what I might be going through. And it was his name that came up first on my phone.

When did that happen, that even after he moved away, he was still the name that popped up first? Lying in the hotel bed the night I finally got to Houston, after everything I had been through, he was the one I called first. Wait, that’s not true. I called Liz first. He was the one who answered, the one who heard the story for the first time. I am always surprised at how he always says exactly what I need to hear, just the right words to make me feel better, to make all the muscles in my body relax and a sigh of gratitude escape my chest.

“I wish I had been there with you and I had lost my passport too.” When he said those words, just then, it hit me again that he was more than just a guy I used to see, more than just a friend or ex-lover. He was as important to me as anyone has ever been. I used to call him my lover. I liked calling him that. As if the label would allow a detachment. He wasn’t my boyfriend. But somehow, when I wasn’t looking, sometime in between one break up and another, between the meals of okra and chicken, the cold days in bed and the cricket games, somehow he became something more. Something I can’t replace.

He’s in California now. He’s happy. A good job, tennis and friends. The beautiful landscape of California hills. Beautiful girls are not far behind. His days are full and the texts and check-ins are waning. This is what’s supposed to happen. This is where we’ve been headed for over a year. He was always someone I would lose one day.

He had come back once more after our supposed goodbye. There was a volleyball tournament and I watched and took pictures. He had wanted to surprise me so he said he was running late on the afternoon he drove in. I went about my day. I was at a coffee shop when he texted. He was there at my apartment. I was talking to a friend when I looked at my phone and said, “Oh, I gotta go. Can you pay for my coffee? I gotta go see about a boy!” I grabbed my stuff and rushed out. He was in my bedroom waiting for me.

I remember the blue checked shirt and the way he smelled. He held me for a long time before we began our usual dance. We had a couple of last nights together and I tried not to cry when I said goodbye again. One day soon, he’ll text or call me and say, “I met someone,” and my stupid heart will break again, ignoring all rational thought.

Today, he’s still the guy I think about every day. The one I long for, wish for, miss. I don’t want him to stop being important to me, to stop being a part of my life, no matter how far apart we are. But I know how these things are supposed to work. I still know that this was a blessing and that it’s time to let him go.

Liz sent me an article about falling in love at the wrong time. She said it reminded her of Z and I. Even my daughter asks me sometimes, when I talk about him, “But what if…Isn’t it possible..?” My answer is always the same. “No.” It’s not that we met at the wrong time. We are quite simply something that cannot be. The truth is, we met at just the right time. The circumstances that had to happen to place us in the same town, at the same time, at the same festival, in situations that allowed us the freedom to be what we were to each other…….it wasn’t the wrong time. It was exactly the right time. And now it’s time to let go.


From → Rantings

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