I still remember the month and year when our eyes met for the first time. It was June 2019, at a vegan street fair in Pasadena, where I held hands with my soon-to-be ex-boyfriend. We stopped at a burger stand where his friend Allen worked, and when he introduced us, I felt an irrevocable attraction.
The moment Allen's eyes met mine, it was like he suddenly knew who he was supposed to be with.
Years passed. I went out, but nothing seemed to fill the dissatisfaction I felt with love. I often wondered what was wrong with me. Was I looking for something dysfunctional? Were my standards too high or too low? I couldn't find the answer.
Then, in 2023, a notification appeared on Instagram: a friend request from Allen. I looked at my phone in disbelief. Could this be the connection he had been waiting for all these years?
We met at a restaurant called Joy in Highland Park, his neighborhood and my favorite area of Los Angeles. Our conversations flowed easily. For the first time in my life I felt compatible with someone. We were both on healing journeys, sober, vegan, and in love with nature. Allen was even an amazing vegan chef. I felt like I couldn't have asked for more. I found the answer to all my failed connections. Suddenly, all the miserable dates and failed relationships were worth it because they led me to him.
I wanted to take things slowly, to make sure his intentions matched mine. Allen assured me that he wanted a relationship and dreamed of starting a family. One night, as our connection deepened, he asked me, “Have you been with anyone in the L.A. metal scene?”
I was frozen. Should I be honest and tell him I dated his friend or stay silent and risk the truth coming out later? I told him I wanted an open relationship based on trust. The disappointment in his eyes was instantaneous.
“My ex is your friend,” I said quietly. “I know it's uncomfortable.”
He agreed that it was, and suddenly I felt a wall rise between us. I regretted being honest, because at that moment I felt as if honesty had desecrated the connection Allen and I were building. I found myself wondering what things would have been like if I had left out this information. But I quickly reminded myself that a sincere romance will never be based on lies.
Allen said he still wanted to get to know me, and I held on to that hope. The next morning, after talking about hiking and future plans, I noticed the same distance as the night before. He then pronounced that he was not looking for anything serious. My heart broke.
Was it because of his friend, my ex? Or had I simply read everything wrong? My heart was racing and my mind was spinning in circles, trying to figure out what went wrong. Once again I found myself having to make a difficult decision.
As someone who believed that true love is worth fighting for and who lived by the word that nothing worth having comes easy, I was perplexed. Do I keep seeing him in the hope that one day he will come to his senses? It took all my strength to decide what was right. Because what was right felt wrong. I told him I couldn't see him again. He seemed affected, but not enough to change his mind.
Two days later, he called me and told me he had thought about it and wanted to try again. He admitted that the “friendship” thing bothered him more than it should. I admired his vulnerability.
For a while we had fun, adopting a gentle pace, having thought-provoking conversations and sharing things about our upbringing that affect us today and ways to break cycles. I felt incredibly connected to him.
After sharing the news with my best friend about my romance with Allen, she burst my bubble: “You're in a situation.” I became unhinged describing the connection Allen and I had, the things he would say, and how he would make me feel. She confirmed that what I had shared with her was the solid definition of “situation.” He added that it meant closeness without commitment.
“You're a placeholder,” he said. I was devastated.
That night I asked Allen where he saw us going. He repeated that we were still getting to know each other and that he couldn't focus on a relationship while he was between jobs. As fair as it sounded, he knew what it meant: his heart wasn't in it. Mine was. Once again, I came away feeling devastated.
Two years passed. It was this summer when Allen texted me asking how I was doing. Seeing his name on my screen made my stomach turn. Could this finally be our time?
We met again and hugging him felt surreal. He told me that he had been struggling for years but was now in a better and more stable place. He looked me in the eyes as if to prove it. I wanted so badly to believe him. Once again, I gave in, and once again, the heat faded almost immediately.
His body language changed; his words became distant. I realized that his tenderness had been an act, one that I had willingly fallen in love with again.
Clarity came where hope once lived. I couldn't continue going through the same anguish. One day I would be fine and the next I would be devastated, longing to hear from him. When his messages didn't appear on my phone, I felt a sense of emptiness that only he could fill.
The thought that it hadn't crossed my mind devastated me. He could no longer perpetuate a cycle of deception, waiting for the right moment to come. It wasn't going to be like that.
For years, I fed myself the fantasy that things hadn't worked out with anyone else because I had to be with Allen.
I knew in my heart that despite how deeply I felt for him, silence, indifference, lack of effort, those were my responses. Love is not a riddle waiting to be solved. When someone cares, there is no need to decode it.
I had spent years searching for closure, convincing myself that one more conversation or one more kiss could fix everything. But I learned that the closure was just another way to reopen the door. What I really needed was acceptance. An acceptance that was painful but liberating.
This time I choose myself. I choose to fill my own cup, because to find true, lasting love, it has to start within me.
The author is a Long Beach writer and poet. You are learning to find love and beauty in everything but romantic love at the moment. She is on Instagram: @cold_brewjita.
Los Angeles Affairs chronicles the search for romantic love in all its glorious expressions in the Los Angeles area, and we want to hear your true story. We paid $400 for a published essay. Email [email protected]. You can find shipping guidelines. here. You can find previous columns. here. Editor's note: LA Affairs will return on December 12.
