We Tried

Sunday marks an un-iversary. That's when you commemorate a relationship that is no more. It's a funny thing to do I guess, but it seems fitting. Some loves make such a mark on you, they cannot be erased. Some experiences make you more who you are than others. Even when you come out a bit bruised and tearful, you are more yourself for having gone through it, for having known them. This was that kind of love.

A year ago, we met. It was at a costume party for the Tomato's 30th birthday. I looked like this. (My mother claimed that it was no wonder I met someone given the fact that I was "running around in my underwear.") He was cute in his punk rock t-shirt and blazer with a smattering of pins for bands like Minor Threat, The Descendents and the like. He was (and still is) a tortured artist with a tempermental, brooding side. Just my type. His eyes followed me wherever I went- from the dance floor to the bar, but when I would catch him looking, he would quickly avert his eyes. About half way into the evening I began to inquire as to who this staring fella was. No one knew. So I took it upon myself to find out. Went right up to him and said, "I don't know you. I'm Sizzle.*" And he replied, "I'm Cowboy.*" When I asked if he had in fact been watching me all night, he admitted to it, giving this reason: "You are the most beautiful girl here."

And from there, we fell.

Long distance relationships, for me, are a set-up-to-fail kind of situation. I know this now. I pretty much knew it then but took the risk anyhow. It wasn't for a lack of trying that our relationship did not last. Between Santa Cruz and Los Angeles, the distance grew more than miles. But when I remember him, I do not wallow in the disagreements and broken hope. I remember his eyes when he would look at me and how beautiful I felt in that gaze. I recall the fierceness of his feelings, the flutter of my heart when he would take my hand and the first time he ever kissed me.

These are the memories I carry.


* Names changed