L.A. Affairs: I know why he broke my heart. He had to. And I understand.
I seem to be the 13- or 14-month relationship queen. My last three ended right at this time. I had no idea I was actually there with this last one.
It came so fast ā the end, that is.
We were one of the few Tinder success stories. We met ā yes, 13 months ago in Santa Monica and had our first less-than-enthusiastic date (I wasnāt that interested, and he knew it). It was a type thing. See, Iāve always been athletic, running a marathon a year for the last 11 years. And Iāve always dated athletic guys; sexy, fit, a little macho ā¦ it was my thing. I liked him so much already from simply texting and talking ā this was a big day!
But of course, expectations were high, and I left feeling, well ā¦ āmeh.ā
Harry knew it and pursued anyway.
āCome on, the date wasnāt that bad!ā he called to say the next day. It made me laugh. It was brave. It was disarming. And it worked.
Over the next few dates, I grew to like him more. Days became weeks, weeks became months and one sunny morning, three months later, he called me. I had just left his place in downtown Los Angeles to head to work. He watched me drive away and, moved by the moment, the words were spilling out of his mouth ā¦ even though there was one heavy thing weighing on his brain: He was about to be let go from his job, which he moved to L.A. for. The company was looking at a 25% reduction in the work force, and because Harry was close with his boss, he got the heads-up that Nov. 1 would be his last day.
But that morning, the only thing on his mind was me.
āI know Iām not supposed to do this over the phone, but I watched you drive away, and Iām so happy, and we had such a great morning, I have to tell you ā I love you.ā
It was the best phone call I ever got.
And yes, he wasnāt āsupposedā to do it over the phone, but here he was, living life 1,000%.
No rules, just passion, honesty and guts.
He said what he felt, and thatās how he got me.
Itās how I fell for him.
The trouble was the job thing. Month after month heād look, apply and not hear back, or apply, get an interview and not get it, or get an interview, get a second interview and be so close but just miss it. The dwindling funds and low unemployment checks didnāt help his self-esteem or bank account. Despite these lean times, he was generous to me. Always. He was just an amazing boyfriend.
The second problem was, I was nine years older and wanting badly to get married and have a baby. I wanted to get a place with him, move in, move forward. But everything was put on pause because of the lack of a job. It was starting to take its toll.
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This last job application, we were pretty certain heād get, even if the salary was low. It was at a university working with a think tank on foreign affairs. He was a perfect fit. I felt a sense of calm coming ā finally, the search was over. But the stress had been getting to us. Weād fought the day before his second interview, and I wasnāt speaking to him ā well, only enough to wish him luck before and find out how it went after. We didnāt talk for two days after that ā¦ and then he didnāt get the job. They ālovedā him, but the other candidate knew some of the board members.
It took the air out of him. It broke him ā and he didnāt want to break me anymore. Heās moving back to Massachusetts now where he has family and a work opportunity, and Iām losing my best friend. We loved each other so hard. We fought so hard, fought to smile, to have fun, to not let this bad luck break our spirits. But it won, and itās taking him away. And I canāt be angry with him. I know how hard he tried, how much he wanted this to work. It just didnāt go our way and we have nothing left to give.
I love you, Harry. Fiercely.
Many months ago, I cleared space for you. It was the start of us moving forward and sharing a space together. I saved you a drawer, but the truth is, you saved me from meeting someone else who may not have treated me as well as you did. You taught me what to expect and what not to accept. Most of all, you taught me how to love. How to be patient, generous, selfless and kind. How to love despite imperfections and talk through a disagreement instead of quit.
My āclockā may be ticking, but I will never regret a single day I spent with you.
The author lives in Santa Monica and is at work on her first novel and a screenplay.
L.A. Affairs chronicles the current dating scene in and around Los Angeles. We pay $300 a column. If you have comments or a true story to tell, email us at [email protected].
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