The Happiest Story Part II: A Kick in the Head

A year passed. I became involved with (although did not technically date) a very confused and troubled young man with whom I thought I was in love. In September 2004, after spending the summer trying to ignore the evidence, it was confirmed that that although this young man claimed to love me he was in fact engaged in a sexual relationship with a mutual male friend. At the time I often gave in to my self-destructive tendencies. Overcome with rage and feelings of worthlessness, I left the gathering where this discovery was made and went home to smoke and drink until I was completely numb.

I sat at my computer and detachedly mused on my situation. For some reason I could not stop thinking about the man I had met in a bar in Mexico. Our encounter at El Columpio had been brief, but even so I knew N was one of the good guys. I had an epiphany that night. I didn’t know his last name, his home state, or where in the world he was, but I did know that N was just what I needed.

I sent him a message, and he replied.

That first hesitant hello was followed by three solid months of nearly constant online communication. Daily emails, six-hour marathon IM sessions--he became the one I wanted to tell first when anything heartbreaking, difficult, lovely, or hilarious befell me. Once, as I attempted to make cauliflower soup, I had somehow put the blender together wrong and when I turned it on I was instantly covered in hot vegetable ooze. I immediately went to the computer (still covered in ooze) so we could laugh about it together. I was driving in the car one day when I realized with the suddenness and clarity of a lightning strike that N was my best friend. He was the most important person in the world to me.

N had been thinking similar things, but he felt compelled to tell me that as much as he liked me, we could not date. We lived a few states apart, and he knew from previous experience that he didn't care for long-distance relationships. For the third time since I met him, I thought that would be that.

A few days later, at the end of November, N and I were chatting online when out of the blue he asked for my phone number. There was no weaseling out of it this time. My heart was pounding, but I typed in the numbers, telling myself that he wouldn’t call for days if ever. My phone was lying on the desk next to my keyboard at the time, and when it rang no more than three seconds later I nearly jumped out of my skin.

He asked me to accompany him to his friend’s wedding.

I had never been so confused in my entire life. Hadn’t he just told me we couldn’t date? Doesn’t going to a wedding together qualify as a date? But I didn’t bring these things up at the time. I was just trying not to sound like too much of a dork on the phone (I hate talking on the phone almost as much as I hate dancing).

I could have said no. I still can’t imagine what made me say yes—it was so out of character for me. For the first time in my life I put my worries and insecurities aside and jumped.

Despite my family’s very strong objections (“Who is this guy?” “You met him where?”), I got on a plane on December 17, 2004. I still have the ticket stub. After I landed I made my way through the airport to the baggage claim where N was going to meet me, hardly able to walk because I was shaking so badly with nerves. What if I didn’t recognize him? Or even worse, what if he didn’t come at all?

I shouldn’t have worried. I saw his smile and I knew him immediately.

To be continued...