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  • Writer's pictureLeah Jones

Of that, Ive said very little.


Around 5:45 tonight I started getting adrenaline flashes. My blood would flash hot, then my hands would get cold, then I’d wonder why I’d insisted on planning the meeting that was coming at 6:30ish. Why did I think it was so important to see each other in person after a week of hurting each other via email? It made sense last week when I was being so insistent on it, but as the appointed time drew near tonight my body was sending me stop signals.

He and I hadn’t seen each other since I got into a taxi outside of his house in Jerusalem. We kissed goodbye, but we don’t agree on how that happened. I left thinking I’d been kissed goodbye and that all of my amazing feelings were right. I was on cloud nine (until the El Al interrogation) because I was going to have this amazing relationship when we were both back in Chicago.

I really, quite seriously, fell into something we can’t call L… but some stage in between an initial spark and love. I had a better time with him than anyone I’ve ever spent time with. I would rather do nothing with him than do exciting things with new people. My journal has a list of kind, amazing, wonderful moments that I wanted to remember.

Then when I got home it all changed. I was on my way to meet Amy at the doctor’s. She was finding out whether or not she had breast cancer. I was giddy, because he was coming home the next day and I was going to meet him at the airport. On my way to see her and support her, I got an email asking that I not come to the airport. Letting me know that I was mistaken, there would be no dating.

Lucky for self-involved me, Amy didn’t have the big BC. So we went to Dunkin Donuts to celebrate her clean bill of health and I started what would be two days of crying. I really couldn’t understand what happened.

In the last week or so, he and I have been fighting a perception war. Perception is reality, so it really happened. I was really hurt because a beautiful, nascent relationship crashed and burned. He was really hurt because a friend misconstrued his kindness for something edging towards romance. Neither of us is backing down on our versions of the stories, both of which are true to us. We can’t fight over the details, we both have extremely good and vivid memories. We agree on what happened, we just don’t agree on the character motivation, I guess.

So I expected tonight to be a fight, except I don’t really fight. I expected to cry. I expected something far more dramatic, cause life was a novel, it would have been much more dramatic. Instead it was really nice to see him. Instead of fighting I wanted to curl up next to him on the bench, apologize and hold on to him.

But I wore a suit coat and tried to be strong…. There would be no curling up, holding on, being held, crying, resolving, or anything else. Instead of fighting or crying we looked at each other and laughed when I said we were in a perception war.

I did a lot over the last week to let go of him. Some reiki, some counseling, some margaritas. To let go of being so angry and hurt. To stop crying. I think I did it without building back the wall that I took down when I met him. And I did it without having to paint him with that self-satisfying brush of “he’s such an asshole.” Cause he isn’t.

I still wish that I was good enough for him or that the timing worked or that I had whatever magic potion it would take for him to see me “that way.” Right now, this moment, I can’t imagine feeling about another man the way I felt about him in Israel and in Chicago leading up to our trips. But I will, right? That’s the whole idea. Eventually there is a man who looks at me the same way I look at him… right?

I mean, I’m taking applications if you know someone… but I’ll have to do something else for a while (write, gym, crochet?) and decide whether or not to harden my heart. In the end, tonight when I walked away from him, I felt good. Way better than I should have. I can’t explain it. I can not explain how I can pour my heart into the water at Crown Fountain and still feel like I’m in one piece.

So that’s what I’ve not been saying the last week and going way back, why I stopped blogging anything personal. I felt like there was some kindling that I was trying to light and I needed to guard it. I kept it private and safe. The end was the same, the fire went out. You were spared the many posts of “Oh my god, like we totally just did this fun thing and I’m so into him.”

But if I’d written that, I’d have been spared six weeks of falling. All in all, I don’t regret it. He, once again, reminded me of the things I’m looking for… um.. a guy like him that wants to date me. No, no… artistic, smart, gentle, kind, fun, witty, comfortable to be with… I’m rambling and I’m sure nobody actually got this far.

“It’s about this girl, she meets a nice guy… “

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