We met in cars. Sitting in the shadow, we started a conversation about our graces. He asked to meet the next day at the Torre de la Lifeguard 17 to surf. When I appeared, Jon, who was already in the water, greeted me and smiled at me. We surf together, fulfilling a romantic dream. We laugh between waves.
In our second appointment, we had lunch in a Japanese restaurant, where he asked about my values and dreams. We realized how similar we were. In our third appointment, we took our hands while we walked to our rescue dogs in a park.
Two months later, he asked: “Can I propose after six months?”
I said: “Yes.”
Three months later, he took me for his ideal neighborhood, wondering if I could see me living there and joking that he, his daughters and I would see “cut” together.
I wanted everything: the proposal, the neighborhood, the two daughters, him.
But Jon broke me, one day before Valentine's Day, in a voice email. I was so confused that I sent an email to clarify. He was not ready to settle until his daughters went to university, and had to overcome the infidelity of his ex -wife.
I thought we would eventually gather as in a romantic comedy: we would row through waves and kiss in our surf tables.
However, in the summer solstice, I saw his SUV on the beach. My eyes jumped to their white surf table and an unknown blue board on his car. I panicked, wondering who was the surf table on his.
After all, Jon had sent me a text message recently about surfing together again. Listening to him had appeased my bruised ego.
Detect Surf Tables aroused my curiosity. With the crowd, I remained invisible, walking towards the water, while trying to see him and his surf partner. My annual solstice sauce did not produce any euphoria. Instead, confusion and jealousy had been established. When I went, I saw Jon next to a woman with a tanned body, her bikini overflows with D above a toned belly. I never saw his face.
With his text messages, Jon had butter: how great my kitchen is, how beautiful I am for my dogs, how nice I am. Then he called and I replied. I wanted to surf, but not. I couldn't. I needed more mea blame. And so, he disappeared.
But there he snuggled with a perfect body, far from my little and curvilinear.
Days later, Stacey, a Crossfit acquaintance, published a foot image next to a surfboard with a red strip in the middle, a table like Jon.
A few weeks later, he sent me a message, admitting that he was dating Jon and said that if he appeared in Crossfit Functions, he did not want me to surprise me. Two days later, he would volunteer in an event in which Stacey was competing.
She signed with “I hope there are no resentments.”
I replied: “Absolutely no resentment. Patea an ass in your competition. “And I added a smiling Emoji face.
The relief of knowing lasted 20 minutes. I thought I would become less obsessed now, on the other hand, a new problem was presented: why and not me?
In the event, Stacey congratulated me for how nice he saw me. (I worked neckline, braided pigtails and a truck driver). A little victory for me. When our eyes met, Jon and I nodded among us from the entire area of competition.
When I left, he pointed to me to stop. After a friendly change, he asked why he never saw me.
“I was surprised when I saw your car in San Onofre,” I said. That is a surf place about 20 miles south of our local place. When we go out, we never leave our postal code.
“Why didn't we see you out there? You should have said hello. “
I must have made a grimace because he added: “We are all adults. You should have emerged with us. “
“I'm not going to surf with you two.”
“It's not as if we were all Kumbaya out there,” Jon said.
Approximately a week later, while walking along the beach, I saw Jon and Stacey surfing in the lifeguard tower that Jon and I surf and the same rest where we kissed between sets.
Stacey and Jon have now been together longer than us, but I still fought with their coupling. She signed it as her plus-one for the crossfit party. I didn't. I stopped going to all Crossfit events. I stopped surfing on the beach where we had emerged together and where I stood in a table.
But Jon and I weren't a big adjustment. He had ignored the red flags because he was cute, fun and kind, and also loved the ocean.
But my heart, my brain and my ego would not accept their new relationship. I felt like the epitome of a cliché: want what I couldn't have. Although I didn't want it, my self -esteem collapsed when I saw Stacey because I could only think: why did he win?
I finally realized that I was only punishing me. I translated Jon and Stacey's relationship at a score: she won, I lost; He won, I lost.
When I finally returned to the crossfit party a year later, alone, Stacey came with a new boyfriend. How did that happen? Two relationships with me none.
Two weeks later, Stacey and I attended a training, which coincided with his birthday. I asked him about his plans. “My boyfriend is cooking dinner. No Jon. My new boyfriend. “Then, she smiled.
Among the sets, I gathered the courage to say: “Speaking of Jon, I owe you an apology for giving you bad vibrations when you were coming out. That was my problem. “
“You never did, but I understood why it would have been difficult for you.”
I thanked him and realized that I had forced me to a competition in which neither Stacey nor I needed to be. Jon was never the prize.
And I didn't need to apologize to her. I needed to forgive me for the unnecessary pain that I added to a difficult situation. I doubted a lot. I gave them power over me, my training and my time on my board, in the waves and in my beloved ocean.
The author teaches creative writing at a local school of local arts. She is on Instagram: @littlemighty
Los Angeles Affairs Chronices The search for romantic love in all its glorious expressions in the Los Angeles area, and we want to listen to their real history. We pay $ 400 for a published essay. Email [email protected]. You can find presentation guidelines here. You can find past columns here.
