I’ll never forget how hard you tried to make it work, even from 3,000 miles away. I’m sorry for that first year.
____
I’ll never forget when you had extra pancakes with strawberries and brought them over to my shitty apartment in Tampa. Months later you told me that the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach. You smiled as we watched videos from the orphanage in Thailand we had returned from. I’m sorry; we truly never had syrup at that apartment. I’ll never forget the moment we became best friends and when I encouraged you to go to grad school in Paris. I’m not sure what it’s done to me. I hope it’s something you’re proud of.
I’ll never forget when you picked me up from the Orlando airport and whisked me up to Cumberland, your trunk was full of bagged wine and dehydrated camping food. That first nervous night we spent together, when part of you knew we shouldn’t do anything. I’ll never forget camping in Georgia, during that hurricane. Did you know it was the hottest and longest day of the year? I told my friends what a test for a first date; if she can make it for four nights in the Georgia bush with me, she’s a keeper.
I’ll never forget the first time you visited me in Ohio and that long tan dress and my family reunion. I’ll never forget my first trip to see your family. I’ll never forget who you were before Paris.
I’ll never forget how hard you tried to make it work, even from 3,000 miles away. I know you had it rough. I know I wasn’t easy. I’m sorry for the nights you stayed up all night and worse, the nights you cried yourself to sleep. I’m sorry for that first year.
I’ll never forget how fucking cold Paris was in 2013. Your little apartment and how tired I was after climbing those stairs. I loved that apartment with the mini fridge and one burner stove, the apartment, which I could touch all sides of if I stretched hard enough. I’ll never forget cheese and beers by the River Seine; I’ll never forget spring in Paris.
I’ll never forget meeting you in Marseille after my birthday and your cool, cultured friends. I’ll never forget that island we went to, we could’ve been on Mercury or at least the moon.
I’ll never forget how nasty Athens was, the Acropolis dogs and our ferry full of prisoners. I’ll never forget the passion and being on the deck with you. I’ll never forget Crete, what happened at the end of that tunnel and how you looked on that beach with the deep blue Med behind you.
I’ll never forget leaving Paris for the last time, and the “Nick Stay in Paris,” power point presentation you made. The last time I made fried rice for you and the morning we spent alone on the Love Lock Bridge. I never put a lock on it for us; I should’ve and I probably should’ve stayed too.
I’ll never forget when you visited me in San Jose. I think I got a bed the day before you got there. A $700, nonstop, round-trip flight from CDG to SFO was a hell of a deal. Twelve hours on a plane and you still looked amazing, I know you stopped to freshen up in the bathroom. I’ll never forget the size of my silly injury and I’m sorry if it held us back. I’ll never forget our pictures on Baker Beach and the ice cream we shared from Ghirardelli Square.
I’ll never forget when you asked me to open up my heart.
I’ll never forget when I did.
I’ll never forget when you asked me to move to DC with you.
And when you asked me not to move to DC with you.
I’ll never forget that awkward post Christmas trip to your families’ place in Florida. I barely made it there; I traveled way too soon after surgery. You gave me a hero’s welcome and a Shutterfly photo album of our adventures. We drove around on golf carts, followed turtles laying eggs and watched more episodes of New Girl than Zooey Deschanel ever has. It was another short visit but you insisted on leaving for a day without me. I’m sorry but I still don’t understand and I still haven’t seen any of my Florida friends.
I’ll never forget sitting in my brother’s truck, with a stomach full of coffee waiting for the tow truck at five a.m. I’d barely made it an hour from my house before I hit that pothole. I’ll never forget the dreadful coffee at the tire shop and the beautiful ride through Appalachia. I still don’t know how many times I drove around the White House before I picked you up. But I do know how many nights we spent in DC together, only three.
I’ll never forget our first wedding together, when we had our own room, I paid and we played grown up. We coordinated tie and dress. You teased me into dancing. You smiled, you seduced and even played Settlers of Catan after.
I’ll never forget the last time I saw you. It’s coming up on a year. I’ll never forget that log in Pennsylvania we made love on deep in Ohiopyle. I’ll never forget the Microtel in West Virginia and the teal dress and black heels you put on in the morning. I’ll never forget watching you walk away, uncomfortable in those heels. You’d been a flip-flop girl all your life. I’ll never forget the bent axle on your green Laredo and the way you smiled that last time.
I’ll never forget the fourth time we said we’d try to be together. When you said you’d move to wherever I was. You said, “Nick, get a job you like and get settled, I’ll meet you there.” I made a home in San Francisco, or did the best I could. It’s been six months now and the wind never blew you my way.
I’ll never forget the last email I sent you. The one where I told you I wasn’t Hansel leaving breadcrumbs for you to follow, and how that was kind of true. The one that said I didn’t purposefully leave typos in my work for you to find and fix for me. And that I don’t want to “schedule” a week with you in three months for a visit… we’ve been doing this for nearly three years now, it’s time to get serious. This was the email where I asked you not to write me again. The one I now read through tears.
I’ll never forget all the back and forth over the last three years. I’m still not sure what we were or are. I’ll never forget surfing with sharks, you wearing my flip-flops and me wearing your shorts. Even more vivid, are the times you didn’t wear much at all.
How about that time you made those amazing egg sandwiches and I fried fish for your parents, I’ll never forget that. I’ll never forget how much my family loved you. I’ll never forget how we didn’t make it to Morocco. I’ll never forget nights at the Feve, showing you off and that New Year’s Eve in Niagara Falls. I’m sorry it was the US side and not the Canadian one, but you know how Groupons go.
I’ll never forget what happened in airport parking lots and how late we stayed up by the fire and nights in my arms when you asked me to “put just one more log on.” I’ll never forget plans that fell apart and how much you put ahead of me.
I’ll never forget what I wrote in my journal and that time when your Google search history included, “how to get a guy to fall in love with you.” And I’ll never forget when it worked.
If you like what you just read, please hit the green ‘Recommend’ button below so that others might stumble upon this essay. For more essays like this, scroll down and follow the Human Parts collection.
Human Parts on Facebook and Twitter
_____
About the author
Nick Chmura. Truth seeker. Feeler of things(not like that). Amateur karaoke artist. Currently cleaning squat toilets in Asia till the money runs out. Twitter @nick_chmura
_____
This article originally appeared on Medium
Photo credit: Shutterstock
Simply lovely. Just to have created such beautiful memories is a gift to cherish. I’d consider myself lucky if someone kept such sweet memories of me.
Beautifully well written. I have never known bitter sweet as I have after I’ve read this. I am currently in the same situation as they are. And I understand how frustrating it is to want something so much to work out but the circumstances around is not in favour of it happening. I cannot say they didn’t fight hard for this love.
You are definitely a man and not a boy. Only a man is brave enough to go the distance and love like this.
just wanted to let you know that, somehow, someway, you put all my emotions, my pain, my sentimental situation in a few paragraphs. I’m speechless and dropping a few tears out of my eyes right now. Thanks a lot for sharing this. I salute you, brother, you’re not alone.
THATS what its all about. Making memories together. This is the stuff that is irreplaceable at any price whatsoever. This is the stuff that you’ll carry with you to your grave. If you are lucky to meet the one person who can make these memories with you, good and bad, stuff that makes your heart sing and sigh in equal measure, trust me, there is nothing on this earth like it. Its more addictive than any narcotic known to man. I was that lucky man until my dear wife passed away and its the quality and breadth and depth of… Read more »
Please tell me you went after her.
Weeping. You successfully put my pain on paper.
I would. Do it all. And most important, would MAKE IT WORK…
with a man like U (: