As Time Goes By

It's a peculiar thing, love.

Yet, when you think about it, our culture is almost completely absorbed by the emotion: 95% of all songs, movies, books and television shows are about either falling in or out of love.  And even if the general theme is about something else," there is always some sort of "secondary love plot" that threads throughout the story.

How even more peculiar then, that our society - specifically the dating world - has seemed to have forgotten what a "great love story” really is.

Last week, I watched the film Casablanca.  If you've never seen this movie, shame on you.  It's a classic.

And it's one hell of a love story.

73 years later, we no longer live in the age of great love stories… Of men who fall deeply in love at first sight, then vehemently pursue and court their sole interest. We no longer live in the age of grand gestures or romance. The classic great love stories of the past are just that: urban legends that can only be found in old Hollywood Classics like Casablanca and Gone with the Wind.

73 years later, we live in the age of technology.. Of text messages, Tinder, Facebook, and game playing.  It's the age of the "hook up," when meaningless sex is the norm.  Games of "who cares less" are constantly played, and physical human interaction is minimal.  We live in an age where it is acceptable to break up with someone via text message, or better yet, just "ignore" them..  Dates are planned electronically, and Facebook has become our "background checker."  Any normal obstacle or issue in a relationship becomes the "good excuse" to end it, because after all, there's someone just as good (if not better) only a swipe away.

Don't get me wrong, technology certainly has its advantages, especially in love (online dating has helped introduce so many successful couples normally wouldn't have been able to meet, and if you've ever been in a long distance relationship, you know how essential Skype is).

But overall, technology has kinda killed romance.

I didn't remember it always being this way.

Back in the dark ages - about ten years ago - my first boyfriend courted me. We dated for almost three months before we slept together. He wined and dined me. Sometimes he paid, sometimes I paid. We spent romantic nights in the city, and did archaic things like make out in his car, and go to movies and plays.  We didn't just "go for a drink" for an hour and then "hook up".

It was a time before Facebook, so therefore in order to know what he did all day, I actually called him - not check his Facebook page.

I truly loved him, and he truly loved me.  We were together for many years, and when we broke up, I was truly heartbroken..

But after we broke up, part of me was also excited to "date" again.. I had been in a relationship for seven years; it had been a long time since I enjoyed the actual process of dating.

However I had no idea how significantly the dating world had changed in those seven years…

I was thrown into a world where technology dictated the level, speed and mapping of a relationship.  Where buffet-style apps such as Tinder made men afraid to commit to someone out of fear that there was someone "better" just a swipe away.

It was a world where you couldn't say how you truly felt about someone because doing so made you a "crazy emotional girl."

It was a world where if you didn't hook up with a guy after date two, you were considered a "prude" or a "tease."

It felt like a world completely devoid of romance.

It was all so foreign to me.

What happened to "getting to know you?"  What happened to actual dates -  you know, the ones where you eat a meal and talk for hours on end?

That’s no longer how it seemed to be.

So I tried to adapt to this crazy new world, yet still maintain who I was. But soon as I showed any interested in a person, they would instantly break it off because I was "too needy" (Seriously? What happened to showing interest?? I had no idea that I was supposed to "pretend" that I wasn't interested in someone to get their attention.)

I eventually learned that this was the new reality (and the secret to successful dating): Indifference.

Choreographed text messages take hours to compose... we agonize over the most minute details: Which punctuation should I use? If I add a smiley face , will that make it less intense? Should I even text him in the first place?? Maybe I should play it more cool? How long should I wait to respond?

And if the composition itself isn't stressful enough, responses (or lack there of) add yet another reason to fret . While I'll admit that I sometimes take awhile to respond to people (due to a crazy schedule), I pride myself on always ALWAYS responding eventually - even if it is delayed.

But silence is deafening, and one word responses are even worse.

And then there's my favorite: the disappearing act. You know what I'm talking about... You have two fantastic dates with someone and suddenly they disappear. You stress over what you did, what you said, and what happened. One text is ignored , which leads to the angry follow up text that makes you look crazy. You then resort to checking their Facebook page or Instagram to make sure they aren't dead, only to find happy posts about their dog, favorite sports team, or a check in at the bar you two went to the week prior... With another girl. This leads to anger and resentment. Feeling enraged, bitter and confused, you then confront them about their silence, which only makes you seem more desperate and crazy.

I avoid doing this by just shutting down and sending them off to the island of lost men.

I realize you may be thinking "Um..it was only 2 dates; he's not your boyfriend. Get a grip, girl."

Yes. You are absolutely right.  He does not necessarily owe me an explanation. But he does owe me a response to my text. Even it's to say "sorry this isn't working for me - let's just be friends."

Yes it's harsh, but trust me - it's less painful than silence.

Don't get me wrong, I realize that behavior this is not demonstrative of all men out there. I have dated some guys who wouldn't even make a move on me at the end of the date, and God knows that I've bitched and moaned about the guys who couldn't lock it down with me.

And I'll be the first to admit it: I don't like to hold hands and I'm not the most forthcoming and warm person on a first date. I believe the term one guy used was "guarded". Another even called me "The Ice Queen."

But the truth is, we have been programmed to "not care." We've been programmed to be indifferent to what's happening and to play it cool. Relationships have become a war of attrition, and the last man (or woman) to show any emotion becomes the winner.

On the other hand, I also realize how hard it is for men these days. Perusing a woman can be misconstrued as "stalking" her, and romantic gestures sometimes come off as creepy.


This is for two reasons:

1. We've become so used to the opposite, that we don't even know what to do with romance when it slaps us on the face.

2. We're so used to the elusive game that a consistent presence makes uncomfortable.

Part of the problem is because we've evolved into apathetic creatures who try to avoid “caring too much.”

It's also because these days, there is a lack of communication between us.

For example, the phone is not a telephone anymore. Telephones are devices where people "talk" to one another. Mobile devices are for texting, researching and social media-ing.

And speaking of mobile devices, I think that texting is great; it serves a ton of purposes. But I don't really want to have an entire "getting to know you" conversation through a text conversation.  I want to look into your eyes and see if there's any chemistry there.  And I certainly don't want to be dumped through a text message.  Do it to my face (or at least call me).

But it’s not like that anymore. And so, in order to survive, you have to throw on the armor and put up the wall.

So for the last few years, I've kept the crazies in, stopped showing emotion, and somewhere along the way, I completely forgot what it felt like to care about someone, or even what romance was…  I didn't question a guy who didn't contact me all week, or ignored my texts, only to get one when they wanted something.  I stopped sending a quick "hi" or telling anyone when I was thinking of them, too afraid to "scare them off." And God forbid I actually ask a guy to hang out… that would make me look so desperate and needy.. The horror!

So I became completely numb and closed off.

Because I would honestly rather be alone than deal with all that.

And hey, I have my own life to enjoy.

But here's the problem with shutting down: when you finally meet someone who actually falls into the "good guy" category, you doubt everything.  EVERYTHING.

It's really so sad: we no longer allow great love stories to unfold when they present themselves to us. I call "bull shit" on every guy who tells me that I'm "special," that I'm "different," or that he "really cares for me."

I just don’t believe them.

So while watching that great love story on my television with my cynical and bitter attitude, I suddenly had a terrible thought... Have I too become so evolved that I didn't even see romance when was right in front of my face?

Is my cynicism the product of years of dating men who were just looking for the next best thing?

Was this how I learned to adapt? By shutting down, putting up a wall, and "not caring?"

The road to happily ever after is not always a smooth one, and as they say, you've got to kiss a lot of frogs.

But after awhile, after all the failures, the ignored texts, and the feelings of insecurity and rejection, it's easier to just stop trying.

And so, we just sit here silently and accept the social norms. We choose isolation instead of playing the game.

Here's the bottom line: I don't need a great "love story." I don't need you to show up at my doorstep with flowers. I don't need you to kiss my hand after the night is over.  And I don't need you to spend a mini fortune on dinner or fancy gifts… I don't even like jewelry; i prefer a thoughtful small gift that has significance over a grandiose expensive item any day.

But unless you're a doctor on call,  I’d like you to at least put your phone away for the hour and a half that we're having dinner or drinks.

I guess when Sam "played it again" for Humphrey Bogart and Ingrid Bergman at that fateful gin bar in Casablanca, he had no idea that 73 years later, the "fundamental things" would no longer apply "as time goes by."

Because the 20th Century will always have Romance....

And here in the 21st Century, we'll always have Tinder.

Blue Hawaii

I've said this before, but every woman should have at least one torrid love affair in her life.

You know the kind of love affair I'm talking about… The kind that unexpectedly turns your world upside down.  Where there are no rules and all inhibition goes out the window.  The kind where every moment is filled with desire and heat.  Where there are no walls, and no games; only passion. The kind where you fall so hard and so fast that you know the end result can be nothing but a crash.

The kind of affair that makes you feel truly alive.

Yes. I believe every woman should have at least one of those love affairs in her lifetime.

I've been lucky enough to have two.  

About a year ago, I shared the story of my first great love affair.  

And now I'd like to share the second.  

However, I'm not really sure if I can classify this particular story as a "love affair". While my first great love affair was a quick, torrid and simple affair that ended swiftly and with true finality, this one was a bit more complex. It didn't begin with fireworks and sparks.  It didn't gain momentum, or speed up after our first rendezvous. It happened over passages of time, and was not always filled with romance and passion. At times it was messy. And it didn't really have a definitive ending with any real finality.

In fact, it was really just supposed to be a one night stand.  

But while it may not be a "love affair" per se, above all else, this is a story about love.  Maybe not the traditional type of love you're thinking of, but love nonetheless.  Like most love stories, it involves passion, drama, and a dash of both good and bad timing.  But unlike most love stories, this one began with a coin toss. The coin came up tails. Had it gone differently, there might not be a story at all. Just a chapter or a sentence in a book whose greater theme had yet to be determined. Maybe this chapter of my life would've had the faintest whisper of love about it. Or maybe it wouldn't have.  And if things had worked out differently, maybe we'd have lived happily ever after.

But the moral of this particular love story is this: Sometimes, a girl needs to lose.

It was July of 2012 and I was living the dream. I had a life filled with adventure and excitement; romance was the last thing on my mind. I had just spent a month in Europe and was making a quick stop through the east coast before returning to my home in Los Angeles. I had booked my return flight for July 4th from Boston, where I was visiting a friend for the holiday weekend. However, on July 3rd, a job opportunity in New York City suddenly presented itself to me. It all happened so fast, and I needed to make a decision quickly.  So in the stairwell of my friend’s house in the early hours of Independence Day, I pulled out a coin. Heads would mean I would return back to LA and the safety of my normal life. Tails meant that I would take a risk, call JetBlue to cancel my flight, and head back to New York for the rest of the summer. I tossed the coin.  

Eight hours later, I was on a bus headed to Maine to meet my family that was vacationing there for the holiday.  

It's funny how that happens sometimes.

Before I knew it, I had sublet my apartment in Los Angeles and was spending the next month living and working in New York City. One random Saturday night in July, my friend Chris* invited me to a party that he was throwing for a visiting friend, and when my original plans fell through that night, I decided to head downtown to check out the party.  

When I arrived, I was introduced to the guest of honor, Nick*.  He was tall with brown hair, soft hazel eyes, strong, broad shoulders and a warm smile.  A pilot in the Navy, he had just returned from deployment and was being re-stationed down in Hawaii.  Although we had actually met once before in a somewhat banal fashion, Chris reintroduced us.  I said "Hi", he said "Hey", I bought him a shot of Jameson to thank him for his service, and we both turned our attention elsewhere at the party.

It was truthfully that unmemorable.  

By the end of the night, the crowd had significantly thinned out.  I ran into Nick by the bar, and after buying him one more shot of Jameson, decided to call it a night.  I said goodbye to Nick, and when he told me he was leaving too, I offered to share a taxi with him since we were both going to the East Side.   He accepted.  A few minutes later, we got in a cab together, and off we went.  

I'm really not sure how it happened, but the next thing I knew,  we were wrapped around each other in the back seat, and the cab had changed directions to take us both uptown to my friend's apartment.

The friend I was staying with was out of town for the weekend, and even though she had instructed me not to bring any guests back to her apartment, there Nick and I were: breezing through the front doors of the building, holding hands and laughing obnoxiously while we waltzed right past the doorman to ride the elevator up to the 21st floor.  

It was the first time I had ever taken a stranger home.  And just like that, I had my first "one night stand".   

I next morning I woke up next to Nick a nervous wreck.  I was convinced that the doorman was going to tell my friend about my little indiscretion, especially since all guests were supposed to be "announced".  There were cameras in the elevators and I was sure that whatever inappropriate things I did in there were now documented as proof to my blatant disobedience.  This concern, coupled with the fact that I woke up next to a total stranger, only made me more anxious.  

Nick didn't really act any better.  After an awkward three minute "getting to know you" chat, we decided to exchange numbers out of, if nothing else, courteous obligation. Still mortified about what I had done, I asked him not to tell Chris what happened.  He promised he wouldn’t, we said goodbye, and that was that.

I figured I'd never see him again.  He moved to Hawaii and I went back to Los Angeles.  

The End.

Or so I thought.

In October, I booked some dance work down in Honolulu, so on a whim I decided to reach out to Nick to see if he wanted to meet up while I was there.  I mean, if i was going to be all the way down in Hawaii, why not stop by his town, grab a Mai Tai together and catch up?

He agreed, and before I knew it, we were playing "getting to know you" in the weeks prior to my trip.  I learned quite a bit about him, and from what I could tell, he seemed like a decent guy. We had a lot of common interests, and I actually started to look forward to seeing him again.  But I tried to keep in mind that I had only spent a collective ten hours with this guy….the whole thing could have turned out to be a huge disaster.  

On the plane, I was a nervous wreck.  What the hell was I thinking, visiting some guy who I barely knew, out on some isolated island all by myself?

But the second he pulled up to the airport in his Jeep Wrangler, wearing his flight suit and a big grin, any anxiety I felt was instantly assuaged.  We immediately hit it off; It was like we had known each other for years.  

I was only supposed to stay with Nick for three days.  But then next thing I knew, I had re-booked my flight to leave a week later, and was being twirled around the dance floor in a Versace gown at the Navy Ball celebration.

Like I said, sometimes life is funny like that.  

I ended up spending ten days with Nick.  I am still in awe of how easily we got along, how much we had in common, how similar our values were, and how fantastic our chemistry was.  I could write an entire novel about that week alone: It was one of the best trips of my life.   

During our week together, we barely left his little corner of the island, and enjoyed each other's company, rather than sightseeing.   It was hard not to fall in love with Nick; being with him was so easy and comfortable.  We made homemade pizza out of nam bread, swam in the ocean for hours, and shared spectacular sunsets.  I gave him dance lessons in his living room, and he showed me around the island, including a tour of the hangar and the plane he piloted.  He made me breakfast, I made him dinner.  We hiked in the mountains, and ate more ice-cream in a week than humans should ingest in a lifetime.  We watched football, and talked for hours on end.  I even met his friends from the base, and we all shared a ton of laughs.  To my surprise, he was quite affectionate with me in front of them; he held my hand, and kissed me without fear of consequence.  The whole thing was so foreign to me… It had been a very long time since I had felt this kind of romance.

Like I said, it was hard not to fall in love with him.  

Don't get me wrong….  He had flaws of course, just like we all do.  He was a bit of a pacifist, super uncommunicative, and he was neither exorbitantly emotional or expressive.  He reminded me of still water: very quiet and placid on the surface, but filled with an enigmatic matrix of great depth that was inaccessible and hidden to most people.  It was hard to pull things out of him; especially when it came to his feelings (which I'll admit, sometimes drove me crazy).  He was reticent; I didn't shut up.  One one hand, we were the total opposite of each other.                

But on the other hand, we were kind of like kindred spirits.   We shared an affection for many of the same things, and had similar outlooks on life.  He was brilliant, fun, and well rounded.   He was also incredibly esoteric; I was completely intrigued by his great depth and wanted to dive down and discover everything it was hiding.. Once I was able to dive below the surface,  I discovered so many wonderful things about Nick. I found him to be fascinating to talk to.  He made me laugh, and I adored him despite his imperfections.  In fact, I think it were those imperfections that truly attracted me to him.

After he invited me to stay a little longer, Nick asked me to be his date to the Navy Ball banquet that was coming up the following weekend.  Because I hadn't expected to be attending a black tie event during my time there, I didn't have a dress with me.  However as luck would have it, I was able to get my hands on a black satin Versace gown that had a killer slit and gorgeous train.  But because of my remote location, it wasn't able to be delivered to Hawaii from the company in New York City in time for the event.  Not letting this detail derail my plans, I was able to recruit my best friend (incidentally the girl who's apartment we defiled three months earlier) to pick it up and ship it out to me.  They only had one size, and I had no idea if it would fit, or if it would even get there in time.  It was scheduled to be delivered to Fed-Ex by 5:00pm on Friday.  The Navy Ball started at 7:00 that same night.  I said a silent prayer, and once again, things were in the hands of fate.  

Friday night came.  Because Nick was going to be saying a few words at the banquet, he had to be there early for a rehearsal.  So I was left on my own to pick up the dress from Fed Ex's office, which was on a different side of the island near the airport.  The moment of truth came.  I really hoped that everything went according to plan - both that the dress would be delivered, and that it would fit - because it either didn't work out, I would be stuck wearing a sarong and tee shirt.  

During my anxious drive to Fed Ex, I got caught in the most spectacular rainstorm; It was incredible.  And let me tell you, getting caught in a rainstorm while driving a Jeep Wrangler with the top down is absolutely wonderful and frightening, all at once.  But it also happened to be a good omen: my dress made it on time.  And what was even more amazing, was that it fit perfectly.  I wore red lipstick, put my hair up in a messy twist and even added a plumeria for effect.  It was the quickest I've ever gotten ready for an event by myself, and yet I still felt like a princess, especially when Nick returned from his rehearsal in his Choker Whites, looking like Prince Charming himself.  

The night was magical; I really did feel like Cinderella.  Nick twirled me around the dance floor all night long. We foxtrotted, waltzed, swing danced, and he even dropped me in an overly ambitious dip.  And wouldn't you know, we were at table 21  (not only my lucky number, but the number of my NYC friend's floor in her apartment building).   It was an enchanting evening and we were literally the last people to leave the dance floor.  

But the fun didn't end when the banquet did.  In an attempt to make a little mini vacation out of the whole event, we decided to stay at the luxury hotel overnight.  The next day, we ordered breakfast in bed, listened to Coldplay, and even got to spend some time with his college friends who were honeymooning on the island.  Nick and I waltzed around the resort, hand in hand with goofy smiles on our faces, not realizing how ridiculous the whole thing was.  

It felt like we were on some fantastic honeymoon; the whole thing felt so surreal and a little too perfect.  But I tried to hold onto the euphoria of everything we were experiencing, and  ignore the feeling in the pit of my stomach that told me this was eventually going to end.  

Later that evening, Hawaii was hit with a Tsunami Warning.  Because the hotel had to take proper evacuation precautions, we were escorted up to the Presidential Suite to wait out the wave.   After some time, we went out to the balcony to talk.  Aware that the week was coming to a close, concerns were discussed, feelings were disclosed, and options were considered.  It was the first time that some finality of the week was becoming visible.  But we were each completely honest with the other about where we were at on the issue of what would happen once I left.  Because he had already been involved in two unsuccessful long distance relationships, he was vehemently against them.   I, on the other hand, had never been in one, and wasn't willing to let him go so easily with a silly excuse like "distance".   We agreed that there was something between us, but we couldn't really figure out what it was, and after a very long discussion, we agreed to take things one day at a time.  We wouldn't put a label on it, but we would jump in together… no walls, no games.  

We decided to go for it.  

But we were both still pretty unsure about the whole thing.  

At the time, I wasn't really sure how I felt about Nick… or how he even felt about me.  And even looking back, I still don't really know what that feeling was.  The whole week had been a whirlwind romance filled with nothing but sunshine and rainbows….. It wasn't real life.  

But it certainly felt real.. And in my mind, this all had a very good possibility of working out.   

Then came our last day together in Hawaii.  I clearly remember my final moments with Nick that last day.  I can recall looking at him and studying his face, trying to remember his smile and the feeling of his kiss.  I intuitively knew that it would be the last time that such a pure and raw passion would be so tangible between us.   I looked at him, and with a tinge of melancholy in my voice, said "Well this is it. Game over."

I will never forget the next words that came out of his mouth.  He smiled back at me and said, "No D. It's just the end of the first quarter."

And with one last kiss, I stepped out his jeep, boarded a plane and departed Hawaii, leaving both him and my heart behind.

That day, I reluctantly put all my trust in fate.  I trusted that no matter what happened, our futures would lead us to where we needed to be, whether that meant together or apart.  I trusted that things would work out the way that they were supposed to.  

But deep down, I was really hoping it would work out.    

After I got back to LA, we didn't really know what would or should happen next between us; so many mistakes were made..  We were in two different worlds, and two different places, both physically and emotionally…While I'm sure he did feel a connection to me, I was much more emotionally involved.  Neither of us knew what we were doing or what we even wanted.. There were no clear parameters.  Looking back, I think we just were trying to hold on to something that was impossible to maintain.  We went from zero to a thousand, and then back to ten.  There was no way that an affair so intense could sustain without being physically together, especially with a 2,500 mile ocean between us.  

But boy did we did try.  Not a day went by that we didn't talk.  We skyped as often as possible.   But after awhile, that natural drift that so often happens in long distance relationships began to develop, and whatever it was that we had, seemed to have run its course.   In hindsight, we should have just said our goodbyes, ended it all on my last day in Hawaii, and hope that maybe our paths would cross again in the future.  

Instead, the whole thing dragged out long enough to implode and ultimately turn into a devastating heartbreak that left me shattered.  

I remember the collapse all so clearly.  I mean how many moments in your life can you point to and say 'that's when it all changed'?

For me, it was December 7, 2012.   My roommate had started dating a new guy, and I was surrounded by their new steamy romance on a daily basis.  I watched the chemistry between them, and became extremely envious of their physical contact and the love story being played out before my eyes.   

My relationship, on the other hand, had seemed to plateau.  

I was angry.  I was hurt.  I was paranoid.  I was afraid.

So many feelings of doubt, insecurity, jealousy and concern had clouded my logical and rational thinking.  What were we? What had we become? Was what we had real?  I started to feel crazy.  This was is not how I usually operated; I never feared those things before - i had always jumped in headfirst, ready to take on whatever challenge awaited me.  I believed in loving with a full heart, never holding back, and always saying how i felt.   But with Nick, I had reached unfamiliar territory.  I didn't know what the rules were, how he really felt, and what he wanted.  He never would tell me, and the assumptions I was making in my head were not very positive ones.  

It's scary to love and be loved.  And life is complicated because all too often it throws you off balance by sending you the right person at the wrong time.

And if Nick was the right person, this certainly was not our time.  

I knew that he cared about me. I knew that he was making an effort and was consciously trying to keep communication with me open.  But that old insecure thought, "Am I an obligation?" kept gnawing at me.  To this day, I like to believe that it wasn't; he didn't owe me anything, and he had every opportunity to walk away.  There was no defined loyalty, commitment, or need to drag things out longer than they needed to be.

Additionally, I felt a platonic friendship developing, and couldn't understand how it happened.   Did he miss me? Did he want to see me?  I wasn't sure.  Nick was so uncommunicative, so difficult to read. Sometimes he would show me more affection than others.  Sometimes I felt like his girlfriend, others his buddy.    He sent me mixed signals and I couldn't figure out why… to protect himself?  No, it couldn't have been that because he knew how I felt about him… Maybe it was because he didn't feel it back? Well if that was the case, then why bother talking to me in the first place? Why just not cut it off? Why drag it out?

And so, out of desperation to hold on, I suffocated him.  

Regret comes in all shapes and sizes. Some are small, like when we do a bad thing for a good reason. Some are bigger like when we let down a friend. Some of us escape the pains of regret by making the right choice. Some of us have little time for regret because we're looking forward to the future. Sometimes we have to fight to come to terms with the past, and sometimes we bury our regret by promising to change our ways. But our biggest regrets are not for the things we did but for the things we didn't do, things we didn't say when we had the opportunity to.

So I said something.  I opened my mouth and the words that I had intended to say came out all wrong.   

I had wanted to ask him how he felt about me.  I wanted to ask him what we were.  I wanted to ask him what was happening.  

But of course, that's not how it came out at all.  

His response was an angry one. The pressure I had put on him caused him to completely shut down.  He became an unresponsive and indifferent Nick that I had not been exposed to before.  But then again, crazy irrational Dara was not someone he had been exposed before to either.  It was like we were going through all the motions of a real relationship, but remotely, which made the relationship that much more difficult.    

We decided to take a few days off to cool down, clear our heads, and see where we were at.  

I knew I had blown it.  If only I had kept my big mouth shut.  I was going to be seeing him in two weeks when we were both back in New York for the holidays.  Why couldn’t I just wait until then?

Because I had fallen in love.  

And love makes you deaf, dumb, and blind.  

A few days later, he finally reached out to me.  He told me that he wanted me in his life, but he needed to take a few steps back.  Things had become too complicated, and he wanted to slow down.  

I agreed, and we attempted to move on, at a slower and more casual pace.

But the damage was done.  He was often distant.  I was constantly walking on eggshells.  

By the time we got to New York for the holidays, that damage was clearly evident.  

It was one of the most horrible weekends of my life.   And as fate would have it, it began on December 21st.

About a month earlier, we had made plans to spend a whole weekend together in the city.  He had planned on taking me to the Opera on Friday, and I was going to take him to a Giant's Game on Sunday.  

Merry Christmas, right?

The night of the Opera was the first time I had seen him in person since I had been in Hawaii.

To call that night a "disaster" would be an understatement.  Our dinner was awkward, cold, and it was difficult to engage in discussion.  After dinner, we went to the Opera where we sat in silence for four hours.  

After the opera, in an attempt to smooth things over and relax a bit, we decided to go out for "a drink".

One drink turned into the consumption of a bottle of wine each, topped off with a few shots at the end of the night.

I drank to numb the pain.  He drank to avoid the awkwardness.

We both got horribly drunk. And we once again had "The Talk".  

But this time, we really ended it.  He couldn't do it anymore;  It was finally over.

I didn't take it well.

We stumbled back to our friend's apartment, where I spent the rest of the night in the bathroom, slumped over the toilet and yelling profanity at him while he held my hair back.  

The next morning with the worst hangover of my life, we talked again, and in a more civil and rational discussion, we decided to just be friends. Thinking that things would be ok between us, we agreed to spend the rest of the weekend together and follow through with the rest of our plans.  

However that wasn’t the case.  

I remember watching Giants games with Nick in happier times…. This was definitely not one of them.  

Although our seats were fantastic and the Giants destroyed our rival team The Eagles, neither of us had a good time.  First of all, it was 25 degrees; we were miserably cold, and the wind chill was debilitating.  Secondly, I was still very angry and very hurt...  And I wasn't afraid to show it.  

After the game, we barely spoke on the train ride home.  Once we got back to the city, Nick was running late to catch his train.  We had a short and awkward goodbye, and then he was gone.  

It was as if everything that went so perfectly in Hawaii, went so completely wrong in New York City.  

I felt utterly heartbroken.   If we were now at halftime, I was down by a LOT of points.  

Losing your heart’s desire is tragic, there's no denying that, but gaining your heart’s desire, well they say that it’s all you can hope for.  In 2012, I wished for love. To immerse myself in someone else and to wake a heart long afraid to feel.   My wish was granted, but it came to an end...  Yet I wouldn’t give it back for the world.  I didn't want to forget how deeply I had felt for him, how important he had been to me.  I felt as if to discard the memory would be a betrayal of my younger and idealistic self who believed in love so vehemently.   

So I wallowed in the pain.  The whole thing had left me feeling devastated, and not really in a party mood by the time New Year's Eve rolled around, especially because Nick and I had originally planned on spending New Year's eve together.  So when the holiday came and I was alone, I reluctantly went to a party with my friends, and was home before you could finish singing "Auld Lang Syne.”

A few days later, a good friend who was watching me struggle took me out to dinner and gave me some advice: He told me that I should stop caring about things so much, stop wearing my heart on my sleeve, and not be so forthcoming with my emotions. Things would just be easier that way.  I took his advice to heart and decided to apply those ideas in the new year.  

And boy did I.  That day was the day that I turned to stone.  

A few days later, I returned to Los Angeles with a new philosophy: No more love.  

I waltzed through the year without any emotion.  My middle name became "cynical".   I stopped holding hands.  I didn't "cuddle".  I refused to open my heart to anyone, and kept my wall up nice and strong.  

Of course, internally, I was still heartbroken.  But as I picked up the pieces of my shattered heart, I tried to move on with my life back in Los Angeles.  I tried to accept what had happened.  I intellectually understood that he didn't want to be with me.  So I tried to act like everything was fine.  I didn't want to make a romantic drama out of it; I didn't want to sigh and mope or scream hysterically to impress others with how awful it all was, even though I felt as if something fundamental, deep within me, had been taken away from me.  I was simply trying to cope, to get on with my own normal life, which, I knew, was something he could not be a part of anymore.  

I would be lying if I said that I succeeded in doing that.    

But as the fog cleared, the clouds parted, and the sun began to shine in my life again, things got better.  

I traveled a ton.  I bought a new car.  I moved back to New York City for the summer.  I worked my ass off. The year brought me tremendous success and endless adventure.  I even became involved in two relationships.   While in hindsight, I had engaged in those relationships in order to mask my heartbreak, they both taught me something.

Yet I still thought about Nick, and thought of him often.  However when I think about this with the tiniest bit of hindsight, I'm embarrassed to admit this was the case: that a small part of myself was such a masochist.  That I liked hearing sad songs on the radio and staring gloomily out the window late at night.  Or that I enjoyed the tears in my eyes as I drove home from an evening spent with a different guy, thinking about how much I wished that it was Nick there, and not the guy I was actually with…  It was all so adolescent.

But I eventually accepted that it was over and done with.  I couldn't have him and that was that.  

It may have only been half-time, but thanks to a severe rain delay, the game was postponed indefinitely.  

December came.  I arrived back to New York City for the holidays a different woman: a confident and happy woman, not the pathetic mess I had been a year earlier.  But even in all my confidence, I was nervous about potentially seeing Nick.  I was still mortified about how we had ended things the year before.  I was embarrassed by my behavior and it drove me crazy that his opinion of me was most likely based on that encounter.  Throughout the year we had exchanged some correspondence, but it wasn't nearly what it had been..

I guess we were trying to be friends.  

But the truth is, we weren't friends; we were barely acquaintances.  

And I was nervous about seeing him.

Right before the holidays, I sent Nick a letter.   Writing and sending letters had been my favorite thing to do throughout the "relationship" and when James, an old man I played cards with, suffered a stroke, I felt an overwhelming desire to reach out to Nick.  The old man had truly liked Nick (or at least what I had told him about him) and he had always told me that the only time he ever saw me me glow when I talked about Nick.  I felt that James would have wanted me to share that fact with Nick.  So I wrote him a letter that was neither a profession of love nor an ultimatum.  It was just a declaration of appreciation.  I didn't write the letter to get a reaction, nor did I write it to get a response.  

However, I got neither.  

I didn't even know if he got the damn thing.  But of course, there was no way I could find out.  I had to keep my mouth shut.  

So when the holidays rolled around, I became even more nervous about seeing Nick.  I figured that I would, due to the fact that we had mutual friends.   But I was unsure of how I felt about seeing him..  I told my friends that I hoped that I wouldn't run into him, but the truth was, I did want to see him.  I wanted him to see the normal Dara, the confident Dara….The real Dara.  I wanted to erase that horrible night from the previous year.

And wouldn’t you know it, our paths did cross again, and as fate would have it, it was December 21, 2013: exactly one year after that dramatic weekend.  After dinner with some girlfriends, I arrived to the bar where my guy friends were, and to my relief (but admittedly mild disappointment), I didn't see Nick.   I relaxed and engaged in some discussion with my friends about the uncharacteristically warm weather we had been having in New York.  

Then about ten minutes after I arrived, I felt the air shift.  I looked over and saw Nick across the room walking over to us.   My heart stopped; I wasn't prepared for this moment, especially after I had already accepted the fact that he wasn’t there.  

But it was surprisingly easy to see him.  He greeted me with a big smile and hug, and we shared some idle chat for a few minutes.  He, another friend and I engaged in some idle chat about Hawaii and when our friend left for a bathroom trip, Nick leaned into me at the bar.

"So I got your letter."

My heart stopped.  In the next few minutes, we exchanged some strange simultaneous babble.  He apologized for not responding, and I confessed that I sent it because wanted him to know that I was sorry for everything that happened.  It was an awkward, but comical exchange of words.  We laughed about it and decided to do a shot of Jameson as an homage to our origins and in the name of James (the old man).

That shattering of tension set off a strange chain of events.  We ended up laughing and talking until the bar closed.   We played jeopardy, reminisced about my trip to Hawaii, and caught up on the last year.  

Half way through the night, he looked over at me with a smile and said, "It's good to see you."

I smiled back. It was good to see him too. … It was so easy to be with him, to talk to him.  

One by one, our friends left the bar and before I knew it, it was just the two of us.  

We decided to leave the bar and get some pizza. As we rounded the corner of 17th Street and Irving Place, a wave of concern washed over me.  I knew in that moment, it was time to go home…  by myself.  I needed to go back to my friend's house and avoid anything that may or may not happen.  

If something happened, I knew I would feel something for him.   If something didn't happen, I knew I would feel rejected.  

So I opted to avoid the whole thing altogether by running away.

I'm not sure how it happened, but the moment after I said goodbye with an intended kiss on the cheek, his lips were on mine, and we were getting in a cab together, hand in hand and wrapped around each other.

It happened that quickly.

We didn't know where to go.  The only place we could think of was the Waldorf Astoria.

So off we went.  

The third quarter had just begun.

About fifteen minutes later, there we were: 4 am and checking into a luxury hotel room without any luggage.  The hotel manager who arranged our room offered us late checkout.  We tried to joke with him that we weren't strangers.  I am not sure if he bought it.  Nick dropped his Amex card on the counter.  

And just like that, I had established my rate for a one night stand with a man for whom I had once cared so deeply.

The night was… well you know.   

But when reality rose with the sun the next morning, I awoke wrapped up in his arms and the 500 count thread sheets, mortified by the events that had just taken place.  What a terrible mistake!  How could I have been so stupid? I instantly recoiled, put up my wall, and squeezed over as far to the edge of the bed as I could.  I didn't want to even entertain the fact that there could still be something between us.  I wanted to assume that it was just some Jameson induced stupid little mistake in which we would wake up and laugh awkwardly about.  

I didn't want him to hold me, touch me, or even acknowledge my presence.  Doing that would make it real, and if I attempted to make the first move and was rejected… well I wasn't sure if I could handle that either.  Of course when liquor is involved, everyone is friendly, warm, and fun.

And in the dark, things are a hell of a lot easier.  

So as the sun started to illuminate the room, I knew that all the passion of the night would soon be gone.

But surprisingly, it wasn't.  If anything, Nick was even more affectionate with me in the morning.  He wrapped me tightly in his arms.  He held my hand.  Instead of the awkward morning greeting we had experienced a year and a half earlier at my friend's apartment, we fell right back into the comfortable groove of our Hawaiian mornings together.  

And it was really nice.  

Yet the most significant shift of all from the previous year was that we didn't talk about it… We just went along with the whole thing.  We didn't acknowledge any feelings or thoughts about what had happened; we just enjoyed the moment.  There was no desperation in trying to define it, or what needed to happen next.  There was no pressure.  It just... was.  

And once again, I can recall a significant moment where I sat there there looking down into his eyes, trying to hold on to the moment… To freeze the image in my mind forever, because I didn't know if I would ever have it again.  Not wanting to ruin what had happened, I never said to him what I wanted to say.  I opted to just leave it be and not try to "understand" what this had actually meant.

I recall that moment so vividly….  We just laid there silently, staring into each other's eyes. I remember thinking, "Remember this moment… remember this feeling because in about five minutes, it will be over and you will never have it again.."

The night unintentionally brought back a flood of emotion and feeling for me…. It had been so long since I had let myself feel these things… I had spent the entire year cold as ice - one guy had even called me "the Ice Queen." Nick made me remember what it felt like to love, to hold, and to feel.   I'm still not really sure what actually happened emotionally between us that night.  

And although I still don't know what it was, I do know that whatever we did feel needed to not be discussed.  

When it came time to say goodbye, he called over a cab and put his arm on the small of my back.  It felt like he was about to pull me in towards him. He gave me a long look, and then started to open his mouth to talk.

I panicked..  I didn't know what I was feeling, how I felt about what happened, or what I wanted to happen in that moment.  

Ok fine, that's a lie. I wanted to get in that cab with him.  I wanted to start the whole thing over, without the stupid mistakes I had made the year earlier.  In that moment, I knew that I had started to fall for him all over again.  

But I didn't get in the cab. I kept my mouth shut.  I didn't tell him how I felt nor did I ask him how he felt…. In hindsight, I don't think I even wanted to know.  

Because the truth is that in the dark there is fear, but there is also hope.

So naturally, I shut down.

I pulled away from him, walked aggressively forward, turned quickly and waved briskly. I said something along the lines of, "Well see ya next year!"

He looked confused, but said goodbye back, and got in the cab.

And just like that, he was gone again.

I felt like a total ass.  I had completely stomped on the moment... That potentially graceful goodbye moment was completely crushed.  

I had completely shut down.

After he left, I walked forty blocks back to my friend's apartment to shake off everything that had happened.  During my two mile walk, I couldn't help but think about how ironic the whole situation was: The the man who had broken and hardened my heart in the beginning of the year ended up being the one to reawaken and soften it at the end.   

I had no idea what to think about what had just happened...  But what I did know was I needed to keep those thoughts to myself.  

The fatal mistake I had made the year before was that I had opened my mouth.  I pushed him away because I didn't know how to control my emotions.  I didn't want to make the same mistake again.

So I didn't.  

Besides, this year I was different.  I was wiser now, and he and I were in a different place.  And no matter how strong my feelings were, or how uninhibited I was that night, I was still able to keep my emotions in check, not pour my heart out, and certainly not talk about the past.  

Yet something kept gnawing at me.  I was pretty confident that there was still something between us… What it was, I still don’t know.  But I like to believe that it wasn’t just some trashy hook up.   

I don't know.  Maybe he was just lonely.  Maybe I was too.  Maybe there was still actually something between us.  Or maybe we just both needed closure.

Maybe I'll never know.  

But here's what I do know: That night, for the first time in over a year, I felt my heart open up again.

And this time the timing was perfect.  

I  had been so empty for the past year, and by the time the holidays came, I couldn’t stand living without love any longer - I had reached my limit…Generally speaking, these meetings occur when we reach a limit, when we need to die and be reborn emotionally. These meetings are waiting for us, but more often than not, we avoid them happening. If we are desperate, though, if we have nothing to lose, or if we are full of enthusiasm for life, then the unknown reveals itself, and our universe changes directions.

Like I said, sometimes life is funny like that.

And so, I returned to Los Angeles without saying a word to him, and once again, leaving things in the hands of fate. I decided that we were better off as friends, and because I truly did want him in my life in some capacity, this was the way it needed to be.  Whether or not anything still existed between us, a friendship was the only thing that was possible for now.  

And during the next six months, it seemed that we had finally become friends.  I didn't feel uncomfortable reaching out to him to say hi, or share something that made me think of him.  We even had a few phone conversations along the way.  He helped me buy some stock, and when we spoke, the conversation flowed naturally.  

It had seemed that we were finally on the same page: we had officially transitioned into being legitimate friends.  

But I would be lying if I said there wasn't some part of me that still had feelings for him.  However, I decided keep my mouth shut and just be his friend.    If anything was going to happen between us, it was going to have to happen in its own time.   

Then fate threw me another curveball.

In June of 2014, it looked like the fourth quarter was finally about to begin.  

As a thank you for a year's worth of tutoring, one of my clients who had a vacation house in Hawaii, offered it to me at the end of school year.  I had been working 15 hours a day almost every day for about three months and the hard work had taken its toll.  Her offer was so kind; a trip to Hawaii would give me some good old fashioned R & R.  

So I invited a few girlfriends, and the next thing I knew I had booked a flight to Hawaii for the first week of June.  

Excited at the prospect of seeing Nick again - and this time on good terms - I reached out to let him know I was coming to town.  We made tentative plans to do some surfing together.  So about a week before I was departing, I shot him an email solidifying details.  His response completely knocked me down:

"I'm really sorry, but I can't see you. I have a guest coming into town."

Huh?

My stomach instantly knotted. I instinctively knew that this guest must have been a romantic interest. I mean, if it was just a friend, I am sure he would have said something along the lines of "Sure, I have a friend in town, but let's all hang out one night!"

But he didn't.  And I knew that this "guest" must have been pretty damn special.  

Oh the irony! The one time I was there was the one time his "guest" was coming to town.  

It couldn't have been a more clear sign. 

But I was still devastated. I wanted to change my plans and go somewhere else.  But it was too late to back out of the trip.

So with a heavy and once again broken heart, off I went to Hawaii.

The trip itself was quite relaxing.  The house we stayed at was amazing. I surfed every day, spent hours on the beach, enjoyed the time with my friends, and really had a chance to relax both my mind and my body.

I also thought a lot about Nick.

But there was one night in particular that really stood out.

I was having a hard time sleeping that particular night, so I snuck out of the house and went for a walk.  After about 20 minutes, I found myself at Hideaways Beach, a beautiful beach at the base of the cliffs that was only accessible by climbing down the bluff on a rope.  It was quite dark, and attempting to go down there would be a stupid idea.  The cliffs were about 150 feet high and one slipped foot would probably mean the end of me.  

I sat on the edge of the cliff for awhile.  I don't know what suddenly came over me, but the next thing I knew, I was grabbing hold of the rope and precariously making my way down the steep cliff.

Once I got to the bottom, I stayed down on the beach for a long time.   I stripped off all my clothes and sat in the cool sand.  For awhile, I silently watched the waves roll in and out of the sea, listening to the smooth rhythm of each crash.  I watched the moon shift it's position in the sky above the glittering water that continued to reflect it's brilliant light.  In the distance, I could see the sand and reef below the crystal water, illuminated by the full moon.  I watched the clouds slowly crawl across the sky, occasionally canopying the earth, and other times, opening up like a curtain, just long and wide enough to get a glimpse of the navy blue sky, glittering with diamond stars.  I breathed in the salt air, and allowed the wind to wildly toss my hair around, sometimes blowing through it aggressively, and other times with a light breeze just strong enough to let me know it was there.  I felt the sand below my body and feet; it's shelley thick texture exfoliating my skin as I sank deeper into the earth with each passing wave.   It felt amazing, like I was shedding an old skin.  And in that moment, just as the tide came high enough to envelope my body, I realized that a new chapter of my life had begun.  I had released the old, and was welcoming in something new.   And as the blazing salty white foam washed over my body, I allowed it to cleanse all the pain and sadness.  As the water receded, so did my sorrow.   

It was time to let him go.  

The game was officially over.  

I had lost.  

I never did see Nick on that trip... Later, I learned that he was in a relationship with someone new (the mystery "guest"), and that he was happy and doing well. And as much as I had truly wanted us to be friends, out of respect for his new relationship, I realized that we probably shouldn't be.  Besides, maybe at the end of the day, we couldn't be friends.... Maybe too much has happened between us to sustain any real kind of friendship right now. But that doesn't mean I don't think of him.. Whenever I hear an opera song, see a helicopter fly overhead, or even surf in the ocean, I think of Nick, and I smile.

Looking back, I don’t know… maybe the whole thing was more meaningful in my head.  Some may consider what happened between us "just a fling", and maybe to some degree it was; I don't know.  But what I do know is this: I met a man and fell in love.  For a long time, I questioned if I had ever really fallen in love with him, but when I thought about it in hindsight, I decided that it had to have been love in some capacity.  And I allowed myself to fall in love for one simple reason: I wasn't expecting anything to come of it.  Deep down, I knew that in three month's time, I would be far away, and he would be just a memory, but at the time, I couldn't stand to live without love any longer… and so I offered my heart to him.  In the end, he just chose not to accept it.  

That's the thing about a love affair: While you hope that when it ends it will gracefully evolve into a friendship, sometimes it doesn't…. Sometimes you lose.  There isn't always a happy ending, and sometimes, love does not conquer all.

But that doesn't change the fact that Nick was a special part of my life..  He literally swept me off my feet.  I had never felt so free, uninhibited, and alive.  He made me believe again, in so many things, but mostly that my heart was still capable of trusting.  He flipped my world upside down, reawakened my senses, and made me feel a way that I hadn't felt in years.  He set a standard for any other man that comes into my life. I will never forget him and I will always carry the wonderful memories of my time with him in a special place in my heart for the rest of my life.  

They say that sometimes, the beauty is in the attempt.  You gave it everything you could, but it just didn't work out.   

And like I said, sometimes, a girl's gotta lose.  

But here's what does happen after a love affair no matter what:  You remember it fondly.

And you smile because it happened.