On The Move
Who could have guessed that a 6-hour drive north away from Her would be the beginning of a beautiful relationship?
Early in my life, I made it a rule to never date anyone in my circle, including my friends’ sisters. Yet, here I was, falling in love with the sister of my dearest friend.
It all started at my dear friend’s birthday party. “Mark, this is my sister, the one I was telling you about.” – Bang! Cupid’s arrow. It was that quick. It was urgent, magnetic, and by bar number three, we were dancing the night away. In retrospect, it’s hard to believe I pursued Her like I did - It was so outside my character. However, the chemistry between us was palpable and undeniable. The only problem? She was a mom of two (something my dating life was no stranger to) and was still on and off with Her daughter’s father going on seven years.
After that night, we had a handful of encounters with each other, always in groups. On our first day alone together, we went to a Renaissance Festival. We were googly-eyed fools, helplessly wound around each other. That day cemented any feelings I had lingering inside of me, and I knew she was feeling the same.
Fast forward about six months later, my company had moved to a new building downtown, and of course, it was the same building She worked in (thank you, Universe!) We’d sneak away to meet for lunch and quick coffee breaks. Eventually, at my company’s office roof party, we found ourselves dancing together yet again. We couldn’t help but get up close and personal and later that night, we got to know each other on a different level.
The following morning I felt like a giddy schoolgirl. We kissed goodbye and went our separate ways. That was Sunday, and on Monday, I found out that she went on a trip with Her daughter's father and the kids. We didn’t have a moment to really talk about what happened. The anticipation of wondering if anything further was going to occur killed me. But alas, I didn’t die. When she returned, she said it wasn’t a good time to do anything. She was going to try again with Her on-again-off-again asshole of a boyfriend (the asshole is my word, not Hers.) I was gutted, and we continued forward as if nothing ever happened.
A year and a half later, I got a job offer in San Francisco. Somehow, somewhere early in my life, I learned that picking up and leaving is not hard. I moved to LA in 2016 for a job, and almost exactly three years later I found myself moving again, this time to the Bay Area, and I loved it. Life was going great. I was living in a beautiful city with a great job. And then one day after work, I saw a post from Her on Instagram. I couldn't remember the last time I had spoken to Her, so I messaged her. The small talk quickly escalated, she told me she missed me. “I miss you too. I’ve been thinking about you a lot lately,” I replied. “I feel connected to you. I can’t explain it. Too much? Haha,’’ she said. She mentioned that she finally called it quits for good with Her daughter’s father and was going to therapy. After days of constant texts and late-night calls, we decided She would come and visit. Was this really happening?
The woman I was falling in love with arrived on Monday morning, December 30, 2019. I saw her on the curb. She waved and smiled simultaneously. I immediately got butterflies. I got out of the car grinning and kissed her. At that moment, everything stopped. Relief washed over me. The kiss felt like we were finally happening. It took two years and my moving away for us to have this rush of a moment.
The moments kept coming. It was New Year’s Eve, and although I never traditionally stayed awake for the countdown, I felt like this year would be a legitimate reason to celebrate. I booked a ferry cruise on the bay with fireworks over our heads. The perfect way to commemorate Her visit. We got to the ferry and soon realized we were on the wrong line to the wrong ferry. We jumped ship, figuratively, and hopped onto the right one just in time. While on the ferry, we snuggled against the railing and enjoyed the view. We watched the sky light up and once the glimmers began to fade, I turned Her around, kissed her, and asked if She would be my girlfriend. It felt juvenile but appropriate. We went home, finished off a bottle of wine, and slow-danced into the twilight. I was enthralled. I never imagined that at 35, I could feel as intoxicated with love and lust as if I was 17 again.
In the following weeks, I yelled at the top of my lungs about how much I loved this woman, and how much She loved me, as I drove countless hours on the Five between SF and LA. One weekend, I had Her meet my Mom in Las Vegas. Seeing Her interact with my mom made me fall in love with Her even more. This love with Her was the “cherry on top” when I finally decided that I was going to move back to LA. I adored the Bay Area, but something was missing— my friends and now Her. So after an easy conversation with my boss, we managed a new position for me out of our LA office, and I was off once again.
It was a whirlwind, but there was no doubt in my mind or thought that any of it was moving too fast. The energy we gave each other matched perfectly. In anticipation of us moving in together, I made one last trip to LA before the final move to bring the majority of my things. She was supposed to come with me to my hotel room, but instead, She walked me outside, said She wasn’t feeling well, and told me she didn’t want to leave Her kids. So we made plans to meet each other for coffee in the morning before I drove back home. Morning came, and She said She couldn’t meet, apologized, and wished me a safe drive back. I texted Her three to four times on the five-hour drive north, but there was no reply. A sick feeling started to brew in my stomach. I got home and texted her. Finally, She called. She said that She didn’t want to see me anymore. I was blindsided, like an 18-wheeler driving right into me. After I had just moved 80% of my things into her apartment, She was breaking up with me. I asked questions and made pleas. “I made up my mind- there’s nothing further to discuss,” She said.
A dream-like two months came to a life-altering stop. As if I was running and the land beneath me just ran out. Surprisingly, I didn’t shed one tear. I loved Her so much that I could empathize with her. I understood Her need to break up with me. It wasn’t until two years later that I actually grieved the relationship. And after I grieved, I got angry. And after I got angry, I hated Her. Then, I forgave Her.
I felt lost. On top of processing what had happened, I had to find an apartment. The two months of dating felt fast, but the weeks post-break-up moved even quicker as everything was in motion for me to transition to LA. Two weeks after the breakup, I made yet another drive down to LA with a friend at 2:30 in the morning to meet the landlord of an apartment before they left town. As we pulled into the neighborhood where my future home would be, the clouds parted ways, and the sun shined. My friend and I looked at each other and around the area – one side of the street was the apartment, and the other side was Alamitos Bay donned with boats tied to private docks. The clouds had only broken in that part of the neighborhood as if it was a sign that I’d arrived. We spent the weekend in LA, and on the drive back to SF, I got the email that the apartment was mine.
The pandemic began right after I moved into my new place, to start my new life. The streets were empty, and the restaurants were closed. I spent a lot of time on long walks and bike rides in the middle of the road without a care. On the way home from one of those walks, I ended up at Mother’s Beach. The place felt familiar. At that moment, I remembered standing in the same spot three years prior with a friend becoming enamored with the area. In that moment of bliss, I told my friend that one day I would move to Long Beach. Now here I was, five minutes from my new place. I was dumbfounded. I stood in the park for a minute contemplating everything that had to happen to get to this moment. The sparks, the desire, the pull, the pang. San Francisco may be for lovers, but Long Beach has forever taken my heart.