The annals of time have shown there was nothing worth dying for more than love. Many have died for their love of country, their love of children, their love of equity, their love of heartbreakers, their love of peace, and even for their love of sinful people. Whether in the literal sense or not, internally or externally, many have died for love. They were the courageous ones who planted the seeds of heroism, the ones who stood for more than earthly treasures and without any critical acclaim. They simply died for their love of others. They died so love could have both purpose and meaning—to show the world love was real and not a myth. Those who killed themselves because they were rejected by love were the ones who did not die for it, they died only for themselves. They were the ones who gave up on love for all the wrong reasons, forgetting what the universe promised them—that love redeems itself and always wins in the end. Like Father Time, love was also undefeated.

They say love happens when you least expect it, never when its sought, and I stopped consciously searching for love entirely. Nine months after my fallout with Karyn, and a year away from obtaining my second bachelor’s degree, all I offered someone was my potential. To women, however, love was art and not a science. They didn’t want to deal with theories or hypotheticals, and they had no time to conduct tests and wait for a conclusion. What they wanted was the tangible, finished product…Preferably a masterpiece. Something they could see, touch, connect with, and reap instant benefits from. I resigned to the fact my timing was way off to meet someone. I needed to focus on my studies, see where my career led me, and then date again. When I carried a three-point-eight grade point average after my first year of night school, I began to consider other career options over staying with Pedichairs. The pursuit of an accounting degree opened my eyes as to why I was hired to work in an accounting department with a finance degree—because college graduates with accounting degrees who wanted to maximize their earning potential usually went into the public sector. Since Pedichairs was a private company, they were lucky to get an employee with a bachelor’s degree in anything—basically, an employee with zero accounting experience like myself. If I wanted to get into public accounting, I had to network for a chance to join the larger public accounting firms. There were a few accounting fraternities for networking on campus, but my full-time work schedule made it impossible to join them, which put me out of the running for jobs with the big public accounting firms.

In June 2001, my childhood friend, Vance Ryan, met someone while in law school. He invited me to go to a few campus functions, and when I met his girlfriend for the first time, I quickly learned there couldn’t have been two people more made for each other. Vance came a long way from the days of ringing a doorbell to drop gifts off on a girl’s front porch and hiding behind parked cars. Being a witness to his happiness. and seeing him bring an end to his own string of bad luck with women, gave me a ton of hope. Over the years, Vance became my partner in crime. Not only were we best friends since elementary school, but we also went out to clubs together after I broke up with Sara. We took turns driving out each weekend to the Australian Beach Club in Anaheim—a forty-five-minute drive we never had a problem making due the many scantily clad attractive women that loved to dance there. Although they weren’t always friendly, I just chalked it up to my “nothing to offer” position with them and enjoyed my inebriation. Vance, on the other hand wasn’t thrilled with their judgments of him but he had more to offer them than I did.

One night he asked this one blonde bombshell if she wanted to dance but he was met with a dismissive glance that told him, ‘no thanks.’ A couple of hours later, when she passed him by after circling the bar for about the seventh time, on an obvious mad hunt for a man worthy of her, Vance handed her a ten-dollar bill then told her, “I’ll take Tea Biscuit to win.” In a huff, she went straight to the muscular bartender, who flexed his biceps at Vance and then pretended to be her boyfriend. When she bragged about her pseudo boyfriend to him, Vance hurled a zinger, “I wonder what your boyfriend will be doing ten years from now? Let me guess, um…Bartending?” The next thing I knew, Vance was being escorted out of the bar by three bouncers.

Although a greatly anticipated night came to a screeching halt, I wouldn’t have changed a thing about it—his theatrics made it one of the funniest nights of my life. A big part of me died when he met Jessica, but it was a part that had to, and when he asked me to be his best man, I couldn’t have been more honored.

Vance loved cruises, and he and Jessica invited me on my first one a couple of years earlier through the Mexican cities of Puerto Vallarta, Mazatlán, and Cabo San Lucas. We had a blast, so I knew he wouldn’t be opposed to the idea of a cruise for his final send-off. I organized a three-day bachelor party cruise to Ensenada, much to the chagrin of a few who wanted the traditional strip club finale. When Vance thanked me for going with the more respectable route, I knew I made the right choice. I had gotten to know Jessica more than the others did and saw too much love between them—enough to know the last place he wanted to go was a strip club.

I never dreamt of being a millionaire or spending my free time on a boat or a private plane visiting places anytime I wanted to. All I ever wanted was to be happily married—I never thought it was too much to ask for. When Vance got engaged, it hit me hard—I always thought falling in love and getting married was a given by this time. Being single put me in a bad enough state of mind to where I felt like I was in a mid-life crisis. I tried holding onto the feelings of pure bliss when I fell for Sara and cared for Karyn—to cut off the negative emotions embedded from my past disappointments as the hands of time continued to move while my life stood still. I didn’t feel restless or desperate, but there were times I couldn’t help but feel depressed. All I could do was lean on my potential and dare to dream again.

I rounded up four of Vance’s closest friends to join us on the cruise. When some were unable to come up with the cash for the excursion, I put the entire three-thousand-dollar bill on my credit card. Since we had to pay three months before the ship left the dock, I asked them to pay me back the day of the cruise. When that day arrived and three of the four didn’t have the money, it strained me financially. I planned to cover all of Vance’s expenses on the trip but now I feared falling into credit card debt. Regardless, I cared more about him having a great time than what I faced financially after the cruise and used the rest of my unused credit card balance to ensure he did. Money was important, but all the money in the world could never buy back lost time.

The first day on a cruise ship always got the best of me—always drinking more than I should. The excitement of being with great friends, away from the stress of life with a drink in my hand, made me lose count of how many Long Island Iced Teas I had and in my escape from reality. Although I had some things happen that left me disheartened by life, I was always the ‘happy’ drunk. Inhibitions died quickly whenever I consumed alcohol, and to know I didn’t have to drive home only enticed me to become less cautious. Recalling the first day of my last cruise brought back a fond memory—when three attractive women instructed me to meet them at the ship’s jacuzzi after the dance club closed. As I stumbled over myself while asking them where it was, they had to repeat its location to me several times. Somehow I found my cabin to change into my swim trunks and then walked the entire ship several times in search of this oasis. Even after I asked someone about the Jacuzzi’s location and they pointed me in the right direction—I still couldn’t find it. I then got sidetracked when I came across a white grand piano in the middle of nowhere. Feeling I’d probably run across Jimmy Hoffa before this jacuzzi, I decided to bang on the grand piano’s keys instead. After I butchered playing Motley Crue’s “Home Sweet Home”, the only song I thought I knew how to play, I laid my head down on the keys and closed my eyes.

What had to be two hours later, I awoke to a tap on my back and was ordered by a ship attendant to “get off the damn grand piano” and to go to my cabin. I then begrudgingly obliged nearly throwing up all over the piano before I left. I eventually managed to find my cabin, but I didn’t see the light of day as the ship stopped in Puerto Vallarta—too hungover to join the others for scuba diving. Now christened like a new ship, the remaining six days of my first cruise was tame for me, but on the last day, a fellow male cruise partier approached me.

“I need to know.” He said with furrowed brows, looking concerned.

“Alright.” I responded with apprehension.

“Did you ever meet up with those girls at the Jacuzzi?”

My answer crushed him more than it did me. I learned my lesson though—like a marathon runner you need to pace yourself on a cruise.

With a chance to redeem myself on my second cruise, the ship threw a port departure party offering drink specials to all its passengers. After I found my room and stowed away my belongings, I joined our group on deck for drinks. The tall and reedy Vance, already several drinks in, slung his left arm over my shoulder. His thin brown hair dangled into his russet eyes while a big smile formed upon his face. It felt like we were back at the Australian Beach Club eight years ago—full of excitement and wonder of what the night would bring us.

“Hey man…thanks brother! This is gonna be a BLAST!” He proclaimed as he took a swig of what looked like a Bloody Mary.

“Anything you want, let me know.” I said as I slung my right arm upon his shoulder. “It’s your party, and I want you to have a great time.”

“You know…you know what I want, Land?” He said as he looked out over the crowded deck.

“What’s that?”

“I want you to have a good time.” He announced as he poked his finger into my chest. “I wanna see you meet someone. You’re the best guy on this ship.”

“This cruise isn’t about me, it’s about you.” I told him. “I’m just happy to be hangin’ out with you again, man. Nice of you to say but I don’t think I’m the best guy on this ship.”

“Look…They always say the sky is the limit for us, right?” He slurred.

“I think I’ve heard somethin’ like that before.”

“Well for you…For you the universe is the limit.”

“How wasted are you?”

“Look, will you just shut up for a second and hear me out?”

“I’ll do my best.” I said playing along.

“Dude, do you even realize how many outstanding qualities you have? You’re smart. You work hard. You have a good future ahead of you. I mean…People can actually count on you. Even Jessica doesn’t understand why you’re single. She thinks you may be gay.”

“Wonderful.” I said shaking my head and looking away. “Another one.”

“If she only knew.” He laughed holding the knowledge it wasn’t a good idea to share our clubbing stories with her. “You got all the tools in the toolbox—you just have to start using them. And who knows? The one you’ve been waiting for…She could be on this ship.”

“Get a little alcohol in you, and you get all mushy on me. I appreciate the kind words, but this cruise isn’t about me meeting someone—It’s about you having an awesome time. So, enjoy yourself but thanks—I could use the pick-me-up.”

“No, thank you, Land. THANK YOU. “He said as he patted me on the chest. “Now it’s time to get your drink on!”

“Don’t mind if I do!”

Vance knew about Karyn and my disappointment with the way it all went down. I had to tell him the story twice because he thought I was joking with him the first time I told it. He recalled on our drives to the dance club how I often talked about us remaining close friends after we were married—how I wanted our kids to grow up together the way we did. Vance seemed to think I gave up on that dream—that my experience with Karyn and his engagement altered its likelihood. His pep talk offered me a reminder though—my character traits were just as valuable as money, and it gave me a little confidence going into the weekend.

After a couple of Crown Royals on the rocks, I sauntered over to the rest of my friends who had engaged a small group of women in conversation. Intruding on their momentum was unintended, but I also didn’t want to be standoffish—especially when I felt suddenly social. The three girls, somewhere in their late twenties to early thirties, were average looking. One appeared borderline Amazonian with a broad back, silky black hair, and milky white skin. The second looked like a young Bernadette Peters—cute and busty but seemed as plain as white Wonder bread. The third one, though, had Jennifer Aniston styled medium length straight brown-blonde hair with soft highlights that parted in the center and perfectly contoured her round face. She had noticeably curvaceous hips without an interfering stomach, glowing skin and a pair of nicely toned legs that made her the standout of her group.

When I appeared before them with a drink in each hand, the other two girls smiled at me, while the standout ignored my presence. Each time she spoke, she not only flashed perfect white teeth but did so with such poise and purpose that it left me wholly disheartened she never acknowledged my existence. She was respectfully appropriate though—never laughing but rather smiling at the crude jokes and commenting properly to engage herself, which exposed a pair of dimples that only further added to her appeal. Although she was by far the most captivating woman in her group, none of the single guys in my group seemed interested in her. I knew nothing about her thirty minutes earlier, but after she carried herself so cerebrally that it made the rest of us appear brain dead, it left me wanting to catch up on any lost time between us. Since my participation was next to nil though, a ghost would’ve been more visible to her. When we broke away to dress for dinner, I put the encounter behind me.

After dinner, our group decided to go to the piano bar for drinks, and I ran back to the cabin to get out of my suit and into something more casual. When I returned twenty minutes later, I could hear a booming rendition of the “All in the Family” theme song coming from the piano bar. When I ventured inside, I couldn’t be prepared for what I saw—Vance sharing the piano bench with the pianist and squawking into the microphone as the voice of Edith Bunker. When he broke into Jean Stapleton’s ending verse: “Those. Were. The. Days.” I had a feeling this would be no ordinary trip. As a mixture of applause and laughter filled the air, it bummed me out to know moments like this were coming to an end. If I wasn’t losing a girlfriend, I was losing a great friend like Vance who made life enjoyable—It all just seemed a little unfair than usual.

“Nice job, Edith.” I said as I purposely bumped into Vance while hoping he was heading to where the rest of the group was.

“Hey Land…Take a Cab, will ya?” He snickered then pointed at the group’s table where a lone bottle of wine rested upon it.

“What? Take a cab? You want to get a taxi?” I howled.

“Ha! You remember that!?”

“Are you kidding?” I said then bent over with my hands on my knees trying to contain myself from laughing. “All John ever did was drink beer and listen to Slayer! Then one night out of the blue he tells our waitress “I’ll take a cab?”

“We were both like…what the fuck? We just got here!” Vance roared.

“I had no idea what a cabernet was!” I retorted.

“Me too! I had no fuckin’ clue what he was talkin’ about! Yeah…Well I guess that happens when you meet someone—you become refined.”

“He got refined way before any of us were ready for it—that’s for sure.” I said.

“Oh by the way, I snuck a few bottles of Cab on board—but that one has your name written all over it.” Said Vance as he pointed to a bottle on our table. “Grab a glass then meet us at the bar. We’re just right over there.”

“Alright…I’ll be over in a second.”

“You’re on the clock!” He said, then quickly ambled away while his own drink spilled sporadically upon the crimson carpeted floor.

While our group congregated at the bar in the middle of the room, I took a seat at our table for a minute. I really needed this, I thought, while I sat there alone still adjusting to the soft sway of the ship. It was nice to put the stress of full-time work, school and heartache behind me—Could it be I needed this bachelor party more than Vance did? As I poured myself a half glass of cabernet sauvignon, I noticed that it was made in 1986—fifteen years earlier. It brought me back to my ninth-grade year walking around wearing a Walkman latched to the side of my hip listening to Journey. The song “I’ll Be Alright Without You” came out that year and it instantly came on like a radio station inside my head. I was happy for Vance; he had a hard time meeting women too, but I knew it would only be a matter of time before a girl would see how great he was—I just wished it happened when I didn’t feel so alone, but life never worked that way for anyone.

I then took the tulip shaped glass and gently swirled it around to activate the wine’s aroma. After I snuck my nose in to inhale its cherry scent, I took a sip of what had to be the best wine I ever tasted. After I took another sip, I stared into my glass until the wine smoothed itself out. As I gazed further, I thought of the guys in our group and how easy it was for them to talk to girls without any reservations. I’m sure they had their own self-esteem issues to deal with, so why couldn’t I just put mine behind me the way they did? Here I was, sitting on a cruise ship at thirty years old, and still without a single sexually intimate experience to speak of—something I could never tell the guys about. It just bummed me out to feel that much out of place. Why couldn’t I take the same chances they took talking to women? Why did I always feel whatever I offered them came up short? While I sat there in quiet contemplation of how I could use this cruise as a way to change my life, a distinctive voice suddenly penetrated my ears.

“May I sit down with you?” Asked one of the girls from the earlier port departure party.

“Certainly.” I said as I slowly rose from my seat. “Would you like a glass of cab?”

“If you don’t mind, please.”

As she sat down in the black leather booth and her soft cool skin lightly brushed mine, I took a seat next to her then gazed at her in disbelief—she was the one who caught my eye earlier; the standout. With the wine bottle in one hand, I reached for an empty wine glass on the table, handed it to her and began to pour.

“Is that okay?” I asked as she extended her glass to me.

“That’s perfect,” she said when the glass became half full. “Thank you.”

“My pleasure.” I replied as I returned the bottle to its original spot on the table.

She then began to peer then point over at the main bar sixty feet across from us.

“You’re with that group and the one guy who was just at the piano, right? Weren’t we talkin’ to you guys earlier?”

“Should I admit that?” I answered half-jokingly.

“You’re not with those guys over there?” She probed shaking her head.

Feeling a bit self-conscious about my joke, I nervously swooshed the wine around in my glass hoping it would relax me.

“I’m just kidding...I’m with them. We’re actually here for Edith Bunker’s bachelor party. I’m her best man.”

“Ha! He’s a bit on the eccentric side, isn’t he?” She responded, flashing her dimples at me.

“Just a bit.” I smiled back. “I’m really going to miss hangin’ out with the guy. He’s a blast.”

“When’s the wedding?” She inquired, moving her hair behind her ear with her fingers.

“In two weeks. I just hope he enjoys the sendoff.”

“By the look of things…he already is.” Flashing her dimples at me one more time before taking a sip from her glass.

Her smile captivated me in a way I hadn’t felt before and I got lost in it for a minute. I just couldn’t believe the one I liked was choosing to hang out with me instead of her friends. Now that she was here, I didn’t want to see her leave so I tried to quickly think of a question to keep our conversation going.

“How do you like the wine?”

“It’s actually pretty good.” She replied with a hint of surprise in her tone.

“I know what you mean. I was surprised it tasted good too.”

She then slightly shifted her body to me as her soft bare leg brushed against mine.

“I noticed you didn’t have much to say earlier, but you’re much more talkative now.”

“I’m actually pretty extroverted.” I lied.

“Then why were you so quiet?”

“Um, I apologize if you found that rude of me. I felt I might be intruding on your conversation.” I scrambled, surprised she even noticed my presence. “I’m Landyn, by the way… Landyn Lastman.”

“Oh no! I didn’t think that was rude at all. I just noticed you were quiet,” she then extended her hand out to mine. “Denise Salem. Nice to meet you.”

“Really nice to meet you, Denise.” I said as I put her warm small hand in mine.

“So…What do you do when you’re not throwing bachelor parties?”

“You promise not to leave if I tell you?”

“I promise,” she softly giggled as she inched a little closer to me, her legs now against mine.

When I felt her legs on mine, it gave me the confidence to see if she had a sense of humor.

“I’m a rodeo clown.”

“Really?” Reacting with unbridled interest in her voice, her wide, white smile exposing those cheek indentations that made my heart beat faster. “You can’t be serious!”

“I’m not kiddin’…I’m a rodeo clown, and I take my job very seriously,” I stated, struggling to maintain my poker face as the wine buzz increased my temerity. “I wear clown make-up and jump in and out of barrels for a living—the whole nine yards.”

“No way! That’s so interesting!”

“Well, I’m an interesting individual.”

“Who would’ve thought? Can I see you perform sometime?” She asked wide-eyed, completely engaged in all I had to say.

“Absolutely. But only if...”

“Only if? Only if what?”

“Only if I really was a rodeo clown.”

“What?” She nudged her body into mine. “Of all things, why would you tell me you’re a rodeo clown?”

“I usually have to make up some other profession before I tell people what I actually do—to soften the blow.”

“Then what is it that you actually do?”

“Can I get a drum roll please?”

With a dead-panned look on her face, it seemed a drum roll was out of the question.

“I’m an accountant.” I confessed. “Ta-da.”

“I gotta go.” She said, abruptly pulling herself away and jumping from out of the booth.

“Works every time,” I shrugged after she turned to me for seemingly an explanation.

Denise tilted her head at me, smiled deeply enough that her dimples made another appearance, and took her seat against me once more.

“I forgot.” She rose her wine glass up to mine, still smiling. “I don’t break promises.”

“You’re a diamond in the rough,” I grinned back, touching her glass with my own. “Cheers.”

Without removing one article of clothing, Denise astounded me with her own confession—she was an accountant too. She had just started working for a large public company two months earlier, a homebuilder, and was a Controller in one of its divisions in northern California. Each year, the company gave their divisional employees an all-expense-paid cruise trip—and here she was with roughly over a hundred of her fellow employees, whom she knew only a little longer than me. When I discovered she was thirty-two years old, it left me beyond impressed; she was young to be a Controller. And when she told me she had no children, I was further smitten.

I then revealed I also had no kids and held aspirations for being a Controller but had another year left of school. After I informed her of my single status, she disclosed that a year earlier, she broke off her engagement to a boyfriend of eight years and was single too. Since I had no comparative relationships to share, I waited for her to bad mouth her ex, but she never did. After eight years and an engagement, it surprised me she seemed no longer emotionally invested in him. For the next hour, we carried a lively conversation over another glass of wine before rejoining our respective parties at the main bar. Before we departed company for the evening, we made plans to meet up again at Senor Frogs, a bar in Ensenada the next morning.

I had a hard time sleeping that night in anticipation of seeing Denise again. I didn’t want to jump the gun, but the potential for something special was there. I couldn’t believe we were both in the same profession, a common ground I always looked for in someone that led to mutual respect—the thing I felt my father and mother lacked in their volatile marriage. Although there remained more to learn about Denise, it was hard not to be excited about meeting her. To my astonishment, I wasn’t hungover the next morning, which was a huge difference from my first cruise. Since I was the first one up, I took the liberty of waking up everyone else, much to their dismay, but we arrived in Ensenada at nine a.m. sharp and only had five hours before we had to be back on the ship. Although the weather was warm and hazy, even a bit gloomy, it was all blue skies and sunshine to me.

When we arrived inside Senor Frogs, I spotted Denise, who was already at the bar with her group. She then made her way over to us and gave me an unexpected hug. After we both sat down in a booth together, we watched our friends perform dance moves that usually required a piece of cardboard to pull off. She shared with me some of the backstories of her co-workers, mostly about their juicy, unspoken relationships. I then told her some of the Pedichairs soap operas—minus the prank call that almost ended my time as a free man and my experience with Karyn. Each time her dimples emerged after something I said, I couldn’t help but feel so alive inside knowing I earned her smile. After we had a few drinks and then lost our self-awareness, we made our way out to the dance floor. As a fifty-person train comprised mostly of our friends shot past us, we joined them as the caboose and shuffled our way throughout the entire bar. When the procession mercifully came to a drunken halt, I slurred my way to communicate to her that I needed to use the restroom. Just before I reached my destination, I felt a hand on my shoulder.

“Sooo, what’s up, Land?” Echoed a familiar voice.

“Other than being completely hammered right now?” I grinned. “You havin’ a good time, Vance?”

“Not as much as you’re having!”

“This all feels like a dream,” I said, breaking into a smile.

“Did you bring any condoms with you?”

“Condoms?” I laughed. “Dude, I just met her!”

“Yeah but, it looks like she’s really into you…here.” He handed me a square purple packet. “Hendo gave this to me last night. You know I’m not gonna use it.”

I never carried condoms, always opting for a real relationship, and not one centered on sex. I believed in love too much to get involved with someone too soon. If I wasn’t in love, then I wasn’t sleeping with them. At thirty, though, I had yet to make love to anyone, and a case could be made I hadn’t even come close. I always embraced a party atmosphere, yet I always stopped short of having one-night stands…A total fraud of the bar scene. Since I never had a relationship to reinforce someone’s deep attraction for me, I never believed I was good enough and a one-night stand only invited total rejection. After I reluctantly accepted Vance’s offering, I used the restroom and even tipped the attendant who handed me a paper towel—I felt that good. I feared Denise might see the condom in my pocket and think I was presumptuous, so I stuck it between a wad of twenties and stuffed it back into my pocket before I vacated the restroom area. I then met up with my group to tend to my duty as Vance’s best man. Denise soon found me, though, and brought me back out to the dance floor with her. A few songs later, we rejoined the group and took some pictures. After the last photo was taken, she pulled me aside.

“Let’s go for a walk,” she said, leaning in and grabbing my hand.

I nodded without hesitation, acknowledged her dimples with a smile of my own and exited the club with her. Once we were outside and away from the others, we walked on a narrow asphalt path along an Ensenada beach. I couldn’t help but notice the gloomy morning sky was now replaced by the clear view of a star that began its descent into the Pacific. As we held hands and continued our stroll, she asked me about my past relationships, and I told her about Sara. She then revealed her ex-boyfriend moved to Cabo San Lucas after he broke off their engagement. I then waited for a break in her voice, but only heard the sound of waves a few feet from us.

“That must’ve been hard on you. I mean, how can you just walk away from eight years? I’d have a hard time walking away from eight months. Did he cheat on you?” I asked.

“He never cheated on me—we were both faithful to each other. It was entirely his decision to break it off though, and he moved way down south to Cabo while I chose to remain in Citrus Heights. Have you ever been to Citrus Heights?”

“I’ve never even heard of it.” I admitted, shaking my head. “How far is it from Los Angeles?”

“About six hours. It’s in northern California.” She said while brushing her hair away from her eyes as a soft breeze blew. “Have you ever been in a long-distance relationship?”

“Never,” I said as I stopped walking to face her, with her hand still in mine.

“Me too.” Her eyes turned to the Pacific’s falling star, her hair still moving slightly in the breeze. “Would… you ever consider one?”

We were both pretty intoxicated but her question caught me completely off guard. I didn’t know how to answer it. Was it a trap? All I could do was be honest with her.

“If I really cared for the person, I would without a doubt.”

“You sound like a hopeless romantic!” She laughed, turning her face back to me.

“I’m a bit of one.” Giving her a lopsided smile in return, her lively hair beautifying her brown eyes like the sun upon the water, inspiring romantic feelings within me. “So, I guess that’s fair to say.”

“What do you look for in someone?”

“My ex-girlfriend was not much of a communicator. Whenever we had disagreements, she always went silent on me…Sometimes for days. I don’t like unresolved issues to linger—it destroys a relationship.”

“That’s a pet peeve of mine too.” She nodded in understanding.

“I’m looking for someone who communicates well so our relationship can grow, but all I’m really looking for is a good person. Someone I can trust, who knows what love is and doesn’t take it for granted. Someone who has both inner and outer beauty.” I said. “May I ask what you look for in someone?”

“I look for the same things, too, but mostly I just want a nice guy. It seems like every guy I meet is a jerk. I’m looking for someone who respects me—I need a real man…A gentleman.”

I was caught off guard by her response, how it pretty much just mimicked my own. I guess I expected more after revealing I was a hopeless romantic—that she would feel safe enough to open up to me. The last thing I wanted to do was overthink things but I also didn’t want to get burned again either. Or maybe I was just too paranoid after what happened with Karyn? For a hopeless romantic, I was as equally hopeless at reading women. If she was used to meeting jerks, I guess her guard was always naturally up too.

“That’s not too much to ask for,” I said, wishing I had met her sooner. “It’s hard to believe guys would ever disrespect you.”

“Why do you say that?”

“You’ve been nothing but sweet to me.”

“I can be a bitch sometimes.”

“I know males who can be bitches too, ya know!” I laughed. “And I can be a jerk every once a while—I’d just rather not be.”

“Can I ask you a question?”

“Sure.”

“How come you’re not married or never have been?”

“Why do you ask?”

“You just seem like a really good catch.”

I was truly speechless. I always felt like a good catch, but no woman had ever given me the impression they saw me as one. I didn’t want to show a lack of confidence so I went the humble route.

“I just haven’t been fortunate enough to meet the right one,” I answered, looking away then back into her eyes. “But that’s always subject to change.”

“If that’s subject to change,” she whispered softly, putting her hands on my chest, licking her lips and then gazing up at me. “Then why aren’t you goin’ for it?”

I then put my hands upon the back of her waist and slowly drew her body into mine. Her eyes then seduced my own as our lips tasted the desire for each other. In tandem with our display of affection, our hands expressed our previously repressed emotions without control. Unable to hide the growing sensation inside me, I self-consciously pulled away, placing my forehead upon hers and running a hand through her hair.

“Would you like to go back to the ship?” I whispered, as I brushed my lips against her forehead.

“Uh-huh,” she confirmed, breathlessly.

Ten minutes later, a thirty-year wait came to its end as we manifested our feelings in her cabin. Utilizing the accomplice presented to me by Vance, I experienced a casualty of love—a part of me I needed to kill just to have a chance with Denise. Afterwards, I held her in my arms upon my resting heart, while the ship rocked us gently on a fair sea—a great peace. After a short nap, we took a quick shower together, then joined our respective parties for dinner. When I arrived twenty minutes late to our dinner table, Vance sat down next to me, patted me on the back, handed me a Corona and then simply stared at me with a knowing smile.

“Can I help you?” I asked, then took a drink from the bottle.

“Oh, come on, Land! How was it? Everyone saw you guys take off together.”

“It… It was great. She’s great.” I hesitated, answering affirmatively yet feeling like I betrayed Denise at the same time. “You know me… I don’t do this kind of thing. You know how I was with Sara, how I was willing to wait for marriage, and she gave herself to someone who…someone who didn’t even deserve her.”

“Oh, I know.” Chuckled Vince as he nudged me with his arm.

“My relationship with Sara failed anyway without having sex. I couldn’t take the chance of that happening again, right? I feel this is a game-changer for me, ya know? I couldn’t risk letting the moment escape from me here with Denise, yet I never expected to actually have sex with her. I still don’t believe it.” I explained trying to catch my breath from all the excitement I felt. “I guess it’s true—things happen when you least expect them to.”

“Only time will tell, but I’ll tell you this much… She’s one lucky girl. She’s with the best man I know, and she doesn’t even know it,” he said with a sincerity I’ve never seen from him before. “And DO NOT worry about me...okay? I’m having a lot of fun, but I want you to enjoy this. You’ve been waiting a long time for this, brother. Don’t worry about us.”

“Are you really havin’ a good time?” I asked with genuine concern. “This party is about you, not about my libido. I’m sure I’ll see her again after the cruise. I can let her know I have to tend to my best man duties and hang out with the group I came with—she’d totally understand.”

“I’m havin’ the time of my life, especially knowin’ how happy you are right now! I can give you some more condoms when we get back to the cabin—Hendo must have a lifetime supply of them or somethin’.” He said bringing the bottom of his Corona bottle and tapping it on top of mine. “Cheers!”

“Ahhhh!” I jumped back, then quickly strapped my lips to the beer bottle to prevent it from foaming all over me.

The following two nights were spent in Denise’s cabin, unable to curb our voracious hunger to know each other intimately. The moon watched over us each night, shining purposely through her cabin window to illuminate an event thirty years in the making for me. On our last night, after we satisfied our hunger for each other, she sat up in her bed and stared outside the cabin window—her gaze rivaling the depth of the ocean floor beneath us. As I watched the moonlight shine upon her tanned naked skin, I lifted up her hair enough to kiss the base of her neck and then wrapped my arms around her. Her head fell slowly back upon my shoulder as I held her tight, unwilling to let go while she kept her eyes well beyond this moment.

“You okay?” I whispered, putting my face against hers.

“I’m just sad that this is our last night together,” she broke tearfully. “I’m worried I’m never going to hear from you again.”

“Denise,” I soothed, gently shifting her body into my left arm—enough for her to see my eyes, but not enough to leave my embrace. “I’m sad too. I had the time of my life with you. I don’t know the kinds of men you’ve met, but I’ve never done this with anyone before. The others you’ve met before were just too foolish to know how great you are, so unless you stop me, I’m calling you the very second I get home.”

“You promise?”

“Of course,” I said, kissing her softly. “I don’t break promises either.”

Denise was like a baby bird that fell from its nest, unable to fend for itself and left to die on the sidewalk while people walked obliviously by. When I learned she was abandoned by her father as a child, I instinctively knew what she feared: the same fate with me. To ease her fears, I told her the truth—that I would not say but prove to her that I was different from any man she had ever known. I basically experienced the same with women, and she would see over time that I was a man of action, not words. Of course, I was sure to learn more about Denise over time, too, but we already had a foundation of mutual respect through our common careers and similar life experiences. A solid ground should keep us together for the long haul, even if the distance proved to be an obstacle. The space between us was a little scary, but also a good thing since we were both busy with our careers. I had a full work and school schedule—too busy and too tired to partake in any kind of nightlife anymore. Not only should the distance help keep the relationship fresh, but also allow us to focus on what provided us with a potential bountiful life.

Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.

The sound of her voice alone energized me, and that was a beautiful thing since we’d have to rely on the phone to nurture our relationship. As I held her in my arms and stroked her hair, I thought about how much life I’ve missed out on—hiding behind my jobs and school, afraid to be hurt again. Those fears not only left me with such an empty life, but a loss of years I could never reclaim. Our last night together brought a brutal confirmation of how dull and insignificant my life truly was. Through Denise, I felt reincarnated, born again to be redeemed. As long as we communicated openly and honestly with each other, we had a chance. I learned through Sara how much that mattered, and I now found myself ironically in a relationship that depended on communication for its survival. I didn’t always believe there was a reason for things, but our dependency on communication and our heartbreaking pasts made it appear we were handpicked for each other.

When I returned home from the cruise, my mother could sense my metamorphosis, and when she wondered aloud, I couldn’t lie.

“You met a girl?” She shouted, wide-eyed and nearly sliding off from where she sat on the bed when she leaned too far back in disbelief.

After I satisfied her curiosity with pictures, she cranked the volume knob on her voice to level ten and muted her small flat screen television. When she got cancer, it fed her a sense of mortality, one that created an urgency for grandkids. As much as I wanted it to happen, I had to stay true to my belief in love—unwilling to settle for anything less. My parents bickered so much while growing up, I became naturally picky. I wanted a peaceful, loving, and respectful relationship and was unwilling to bend or break that need for no one.

“She’s incredible,” I swooned as I took a seat in a worn pink recliner that was positioned at the end of her bed. “She’s accomplished, intelligent, and inspiring. We share the same profession, but she already has her accounting degree. She’s also super sweet, classy, and attractive—a total diamond in the rough.”

“Look at you! I’m so happy for you, Landy! Remember to always be attentive, no matter how busy you two get. And never forget to let her know how much you care and how much she means to you,” she advised, as she now paced the room then stopping to face me directly. “Hopefully, I can meet her soon!”

“I hate to jump the gun, but it’s really hard not to be excited about our future. I think she’s the one.” I conceded. “I’ve seriously forgotten all about what happened with Karyn.”

“See! I’ve always told you things happen for a reason!” She exclaimed proudly. “God always knows what’s best for you, Landy. Even if it doesn’t make sense at the time, God has a plan. It just takes a little time to reveal itself to us. Just remember, He loves us too much to ever forsake us.”

“Sure…Sure He does,” I flatly replied.

Although there was a possibility He may have had a hand in this, it irritated me to no end when my mother brought God into our conversation—she knew how I felt about Him. If there was a ‘God,’ why did he let me suffer so much before I met Denise? IN FACT, why would he let me suffer at all? I’ve lived my life with the Ten Commandments in mind and even followed the Golden Rule for good measure. I never stole. I never committed adultery. Never bore false witness. Never dared to covet a neighbor. The thought of murdering someone never entered my mind…Okay, maybe once because I was really hurt at the time, but I’ve never carried hate in my heart for anyone, so why did He look upon me so unfavorably? Why did HE allow me to suffer through Karyn, Sara, and all those years in high school alone? How could my mother nudge me to trust HIM when all He ever gave me was disappointment? When I felt alone, where was HE? How could He allow one of his most ardent supporters to get cancer? Why punish her and let evil people who don’t even care about themselves, let alone others, walk this Earth and thrive? God let me suffer for far too long to give me “a reason” to know what was best for me.

Nothing could change my mother’s belief on how God touched or affected our lives. In her mind, He gave her the will to beat cancer, not to die from it. I fought myself not to argue with her about God; in fear of stealing the strength away from her that she needed. I still expected much more from a merciful and loving God than pain and suffering. If God was going to get all the credit for the things that went good in my life, then he was also going to take the heat for all the bad in it. If God was really there, He definitely knew where to find me, but instead chose to remain incognito for thirty years before I met Denise. I still couldn’t find faith in Him.

“Where does she live, Honey?” My mother asked. “Maybe I can invite her over for dinner?”

“Well, um…That may be a problem.”

“What do you mean? It would be no problem at all! I’d love to make dinner for her!”

“She kind of lives up north,” I responded with trepidation.

“Oh! Where exactly? Pasadena? That’s only a hop, skip, and a jump!” She countered, smiling.

“More like Sacramento,” I revealed. “A city called Citrus Heights.”

“Oh. How far is that?”

“Six hours by car, but only a forty-five-minute flight—not too far.”

My mother looked at me dead-panned, and her shoulders slumped as she walked back to her perch on the bed.

“I didn’t know she lived that far. You’re not planning to move up there, are you?” She asked before grabbing the remote control to turn off her television.

“If she’s the one, I’d have to consider it,” I said—my elation now in danger of deflation. “She’s got a great job up there. I’m still in school, but I’ll be done in a year—I could make the move up north if I have to. It’s really not that far.”

“I guess you’re right. Whatever makes you happy, Honey.” She smiled as she slowly rose from her bed, suddenly sore from her vigorous pacing a minute earlier. “Don’t leave…I’ll be right back. I have to get dinner ready for your father.”

She would never admit it, but her fear of me moving away was greater than her fear of dying. If everything happened for a reason and this was part of God’s plan—things she preached to me when things didn’t go my way—then why make me feel guilty when things finally did? I never planned on meeting Denise; it just happened. My mother was selfless and would never say anything to stop me from doing anything I wanted to do, but she sure knew how to taper my joy. "From the womb to the tomb” was her motto, but sometimes the tomb offered the best escape from her guilt trips. Regardless of the heavy-handed Catholicism she levied upon me, I had no regrets telling her I met Denise—I trusted my mother more than anyone.

As promised, when I returned home from the cruise, I called Denise that same evening. We then spent the next five hours talking on the phone, replaying our time together until one in the morning. When I got into work, I emailed her to see how tired she was after our marathon phone session, and just before her lunch hour, she responded to me.

Subj: Re: Hi Stranger : )

Date: 6/1/2001 12:16 PM Pacific Daylight Time

From: [email protected]

To: [email protected]

Hi! Thanks for the sweet email. I think I am back in work mode today, but yesterday was really tough. I think I was still in an alcohol fog. Everyone here was like that, so I didn’t really stand out. I just wish people would quit commenting on how much fun I had. I guess it was okay because I didn’t really know that many people before the cruise and now it’s like we’ve known each other forever.

I’m glad I met you too. I guess we’re really lucky we met on the first night instead of the third night, so we had more time together. Well, I guess I better go to lunch now. Hopefully, I will talk to you soon!

When I saw her email come through, I was ecstatic, but at the same time apprehensive since my nightmarish emailing experience with Karyn was still fresh. With Denise, though, I found myself in unfamiliar territory. She seemed to be equally worried about losing me. I didn’t want to overburden her with emails, afraid she would get tired of me, so I waited a day until I sent another one. When I did, she again responded just before her lunch hour.

Subj: Re: Good Afternoon!

Date: 6/3/2001 1:50 PM Pacific Daylight Time

From: [email protected]

To: [email protected]

Hey! I was kind of bummed when I didn’t have an e-mail from you yesterday morning. I did realize we talked for about 4 hours the night before, so I shouldn’t have expected one. Anyway, I’m just glad I got to hear from you after all. We went and picked up pictures from the cruise today, and there were some really good ones. There were a few of us with you guys. That’s good because hanging out with you was the best part of the trip & now I have a picture to remind me.

I noticed you have a very good vocabulary, do you read? I don’t have a good vocabulary, I hate it. It’s something I want to work on. I’m glad you were able to sleep last night. Call me anytime you can’t sleep. I don’t care how late it is. It’s funny because when I left you that message last night, I told you to call me before 10. I did it subconsciously because that way, if you didn’t call, you could just say you got my message after 10. I guess I’m a little insecure also.

My experience emailing Karyn without reservations, only to learn she hid behind them, made it difficult for me to let my guard down. After all we shared on the cruise, the best three days of my life, it wouldn’t be fair to Denise if I punished her for the way another woman made me feel. When I recalled how other men had treated her, especially her own father, I rolled the dice and tossed any wariness I felt into the fire. I refused to carry fear around any longer, so I could be the man Denise needed me to be. I then began emailing her without reservations—ignoring my mind and exposing my heart to allow our relationship to grow.

Subj: Re: Chiena!

Date: 6/4/2001 9:51:34 AM Pacific Daylight Time

From: [email protected]

To: [email protected]

Hey! I like getting your emails, so send as many as you want. I enjoyed talking to you this weekend. I still can’t believe we were on the phone for 6 hours on Saturday. I hope we don’t run out of things to talk about! I bet I’ll still be shy when I see you in a few weeks, though. It’s much easier for me on the phone than in person. I was telling my really good friend, Cheryl, about you & she really wants me to meet someone & be happy. I’ve dated a few people recently, and I never like them. I only go out with them once or twice & decide I don’t want to talk to them again. I can never talk to them like I talk to you. She is happy I finally met someone I like, but I knew she would be worried because you live in L.A. She’s always afraid I’m going to move down there. She mentioned the distance between us is probably good, though. When she first started dating her husband, they were 3 hours away from each other & she thinks that in the long run, it worked out for the best because it forced them to talk on the phone & get to know each other really well. 3 hours away from each other is a lot better than 6 hours away like we are! I know this sounds like I am totally planning our future & hopefully I don’t sound like I am assuming anything. I just feel like I can be honest with you, so I thought I would share our conversation. Believe me, I never talk, I mean write like this!

Subj: Re: Como Estas!

Date: 6/9/2001 1:15 PM Pacific Daylight Time

From: [email protected]

To: [email protected]

I got back from lunch a few minutes before you e-mailed me & I was bummed when I didn’t see an e-mail from you, but sure enough, I got one a few minutes later. I know I can count on you.

What are your plans for tonight? So far, I don’t have any. I’ll give you a call later, but I’m setting the timer for one hour! I know it’s hard to get off the phone, but I think we’ll actually be able to see each other a lot in the next few months, so it will be okay. God, I can’t believe I’m talking about future months with you. I usually go day to day, no plans with anyone. I forgot to thank you earlier for offering to help around my house. I don’t think there is much to do, though, but maybe I can take advantage of you in other ways. :)

I notice the little things too. Like when you just wrote, “take care of yourself for me.” I thought that was the sweetest thing. That made my day!

We had three to five-hour phone conversations every night after the cruise—losing track of time with each one we had. Topics ranged from the guilt we felt for having a greasy slice of pizza for lunch to what we wanted to do the next time we were together. She even talked of wanting a committed relationship with me and I couldn’t have been happier. Our nightly chats proved two things: One, she was entirely different from any girl I’ve met before, and two, I felt completely safe sharing my feelings with her. I met Denise in a setting where I was free to be me without reservations, and she was the first girl I met in an entirely different environment—she wasn’t a coworker. Sharing the same life and career goals with her further inspired me to finish school and to find a more rewarding job. Even though she was clearly more accomplished than I was, she never made me feel any less than her—Denise really believed in me. For her to be so down-to-earth placed her well above it, like a star who wasn’t aware the planets revolved around it and not the other way around. I wished she could introduce me to every single man arrogant enough to never appreciate her, just so I could thank them. Needless to say, I was falling pretty hard for her.

Subj: Re: Hola!

Date: 6/14/2001 3:22 PM Pacific Daylight Time

From: [email protected]

To: [email protected]

Hi! Remember when I told you about my friend Cameron who needed a roommate when we were on the cruise? I don’t know why I told you that. I guess to see if you were the jealous type. Well, I talked to Cam at around 5, and he said he was going to church. He said he’d be done by 8 and would come by around then because he wanted to talk about moving in. Plus, he wanted to tell me he finally talked to his ex-girlfriend and wanted to tell me about it. Well of course I can never count on him & of course he didn’t come over. I am really tired of this! I can cut him some slack because he’s not all there right now, but this has been going on for a month. So, he called me at 10 and apologized for not coming, but he “had a lot of crap going on.” I didn’t reply back. He’ll probably figure out that I am irritated with him. I don’t think I’ll answer if he calls tonight & then I will be gone a week, so he can sit there not knowing what he’s going to do. I talked to his best friend yesterday, and he said his sister is “waiting tables” in Tahoe & is moving there & has already given her notice at her apt. complex, so that means he really needs to find some place to live.

Hey, remember I told you Kathy met that guy Friday night? Well, he seemed really interested in her & they exchanged #’s. He kind of hinted for her to call him, so she called him Monday night & he hasn’t called back. She’s bummed. I don’t know why guys do that?

Thanks for all your emails, they’re always so sweet.

Denise’s roommate unexpectedly moved out of the house they rented, putting her in a bind to come up with the other half of the rent. She then offered the house to her friend, Cameron, who badly needed a place to live. His history of heavy drinking and cheating on his girlfriends never gave me pause about the living arrangement being more than that. My only fear resided in the bad timing and anxiousness—we just met, and I had a year of school left. The second paragraph of Denise’s email, about her friend Kathy, only provided me with more proof of her disdain for the Cameron type. With a potential male roommate being a non-issue, we made plans to see each other in Carlsbad for a night—two months after the cruise ended.

Her company had divisional offices located all over the United States, and she was scheduled to meet with executives in Carlsbad for two days to go over the budget. When she gave me her room number at the Residence Suites and asked me if I would meet her there, I couldn’t say yes quick enough. I remembered all the things she told me about the men in her life before we met. I especially remembered the look on her face the last night of the cruise—the worry on her face fearing she would never hear from me again. Up to this point, Denise had merely met me, but she had yet to truly meet me. I was on a mission to show her there were still good men in this world, men who knew the difference between sex and intimacy. She deserved to be valued like the remarkable lady she was. Denise had all the qualities of goodness and decency the men she met lacked. I wanted to show her that not only did she deserve better but that she always did. After all we shared, there existed a bond with her I never had with Karyn or Sara. Carlsbad presented an opportunity to show Denise how much I cared for her—to show her I was different, and not just claimed to be. We talked of future days together, and I wanted her to know my eyes were on the same blue sky above us.

Since I had her room number, I made the two-hour drive down to Carlsbad several hours before her workday ended. After a long, stressful day of work, her night had to be both romantic and relaxing. When I arrived at her hotel, I asked the front desk attendant if they could put the bottle of cabernet I brought, along with two wine glasses and a small CD stereo system, inside her room. I then killed the next three hours at a coffee shop before I went back to her hotel room at the time she asked me to be there. When she answered the door, her eyes widened in unison with her smile, and her lips dove into mine as she sprang into my arms—a nice surprise after two months apart. While I heard Journey’s “Faithfully” playing inside her room from the CD player the hotel staff placed there for me, she excitedly bragged about the room’s surprising amenities. When I confessed to the story behind those amenities, she refused to believe me. After a little more convincing, though, she embraced the truth behind my gesture before we both landed on a small, teal leather couch with her hand in mine.

“Landyn, can I ask you a serious question?” She requested, grabbing my hands.

“Of course.”

“Why are you always so nice to me?”

“That’s a serious question?” I laughed. “Why am I nice to you?”

“Yes,” she said as her grip on my hands softened. “Is there something I need to know about you?”

“I’ve told you more about myself than you probably ever cared to know!” I laughed, lightly tightening my hands on hers. “What would make you think that?”

“Well, it’s just that…” She paused, looking down, then back up at me. “It’s just that I’m not used to it.”

“Who am I to take the heart of a woman for granted?” I proposed. “I value you, Denise.”

“There’s nothing wrong with you?”

Her question prompted me to reflect upon why Karyn chose Sebastian and why Sara chose Semenchski over me—how could I tell her there was nothing wrong with me?

“I am by no means perfect,” I admitted, as I brought my eyes down to her hands hoping they wouldn’t pull away from mine. “I can understand why you’re not used to this after the men you’ve met before me…And I’ll tone it down if it’s too much, but I don’t think you give yourself enough credit. You’re a winning lottery ticket that the guys before me were just too cowardly to cash in. You check off all the boxes, and I just really appreciate who you are. I want to show you there are still some good men out there.”

“Again, I’m just not used to this kindness…at all—not even close,” she said. “Could you do me a favor, though?”

“Anything. Name it.” I responded, looking intently into her eyes.

“Please don’t ever change—please stay the way you are forever.”

I had to digest her words for a few minutes before I spoke again. The “why are you still single” question flew at me often whenever I talked with women, but it was a little harder to understand coming from Denise only because I never had sex with the others. Her apprehension never put me on guard though—men, even her own father, abandoned her. I only saw this as an opportunity to change her luck and life forever; to bring her closer to me. Her past made it difficult for her to trust men, but I should be made to earn her trust, especially considering the distance between us.

Taking what she said personally was never an issue—I knew I’d eventually win her over. All I had to do was stay true to my belief in love, and there was no way this could go wrong. It would take some time to show her I was for real, but she deserved that from any man who cared about her. Shortly after our discussion, I offered to take her out to dinner, and she agreed. As we walked hand in hand to my car, I did what I usually did for the girls I dated—I opened the door for her. When I took my seat next to her, just before I started the car, I looked over to find her trying to get comfortable in her seat.

“You don’t have to open doors for me.”

“I know I don’t have to,” I leaned over to put her seat belt on. “But I want to.”

“Thank you.” She replied, flatly.

In my heart and mind, chivalry never died. Her past was just that, and I planned to court her until I resuscitated it back into her heart and mind. The days of her being treated anything less than a lady were over. Naïve may have been my middle name, but I refused to take her for granted. Opening a car door was my way of thanking her for the honor of taking her to dinner—it was nice not dining alone for once. My feelings for Denise were beyond any I’ve ever felt before. The feelings I had for Sara died ten years prior and I never got the chance to love Karyn, so Denise was the beneficiary of my failures with them. Sara surely would’ve only laughed at my attempts to be a perfect gentleman, but I always yearned to open doors for someone I cared for—to pull their chairs out for them so they could sit before I did, and to stand when they rose. It was fundamental, crucial, and atrial for any budding relationship—another reason why Sara and I never lasted. The intimacy Denise and I shared breathed life back into me, turning years of loneliness into reason, and I wanted to return the favor. After we had a great dinner, we returned to her room and found ourselves reclaiming the closeness we lost the last two months apart. It happened so fast, I didn’t have time for protection and after the greatest display of trust any two people can show in one another, I brought her lips passionately to mine, my eyes unable to hide all I felt from her.

“I’m not ready to hear it yet,” she confessed with her eyes staring into mine.

When she sensed the three words I wanted so badly to say, all I could do was gently place her hand upon the middle of my chest and wait for the right words to come to me.

“Just know it’s there when you’re ready,” I told her, hoping she didn’t feel any guilt for not feeling the way I did.

I couldn’t deny I was crushed, and to hide my feelings from her would not only be wrong and impossible, but to be disheartened by her honesty would go against all nobility. I trusted she was on birth control, she trusted I was STD-free, and earning trust by trusting each other with our lives gave me hope she would soon be ready to hear it. With my heart still hanging on my sleeve, I found comfort knowing she knew how I felt without saying a word.

Before we left Carlsbad, we made plans for me to stay with her in Citrus Heights for a weekend. Since I was unable to speak with her on the phone the night I came home, I sent her an email the next morning to let her know how much our time in Carlsbad meant to me. She responded just ten minutes later.

Subj: Re: Hey!

Date: 7/23/2001 9:53 AM Pacific Daylight Time

From: [email protected]

To: [email protected]

Hi! I had a great time in Carlsbad. I just feel so close to you & am totally comfortable cuddling with you. I think the next 8 days when you come see me at my place will go by quicker than you think. All of your ideas sound great! I love comedy clubs! I like to go out to nice dinners sometimes, but if we’re going to go out afterward, I don’t like to eat big meals. So, don’t go out of your way by trying to find a nice restaurant. I’m sure at some point we’ll end up like my old roommate & her boyfriend & never go anywhere but to dinner, so at that point, we’ll try the nice restaurants. I hope we don’t end up like them, but I can see that at some point, we would be happy just staying at home. Although, I am big on weekend trips. I think there are so many places in California we could go to for the day or one night like Napa, Monterey, Bodega Bay, Pismo Beach, Tahoe, Reno, and San Francisco.

Okay, I have a challenge for you! You have to prove Kathy wrong. She came over here & asked me if I saw you & if we had fun. I told her how sweet you were. She told me to appreciate it now because it won’t last forever. She keeps telling me how her boyfriend used to be really sweet & now he’s not anymore & it’s only been 8 months. Something tells me you’re different, though. Please be nice as you are now and just stay that way forever!

After Carlsbad, eight days seemed like an eternity away. A one-night excursion anywhere with Denise had me fantasizing about all the places she wanted to experience together. I even saw pictures adorning the walls of our home, capturing the memories of each trip. I waited thirty years for this and had even bigger trips in mind for us. Being a hopeless romantic, I also had a spontaneous Friday-night flight to New York City in mind for us at some point. I just always dreamt of one day having the chance to sweep a woman off her feet, to bond so deeply with her that it made her friends envy the relationship she had. I could only laugh at her challenge—her friend clearly had no idea how much I cared about Denise. If the challenge was to make Denise happy, I had plans to exceed what they have all come to expect from the type of men who never dreamt of the chance to love someone like I did.

Subj: Re: Hey!

Date: 7/29/2001 11:23 AM Pacific Daylight Time

From: [email protected]

To: [email protected]

Hi! Long night. I was so tired, I slept through my alarm! Cameron was there when I got home. I think he’s really changing. He’s been a good friend for a while, but he was kind of flakey & a cheat. After his girlfriend booted him out, he looked at his life & realized he didn’t like who he was. He has cut back on partying & has been going to the gym, reading self-help books, and going to church. I couldn’t believe the way he was talking last night. I asked him what happened to the old Cameron? He even walked me inside & waited while I checked all my closets to make sure nobody was there. I think the roommate thing might work out. Don’t even be jealous though—he’s just a friend & he’s not my type. I could never trust him after I saw him cheat on his girlfriend so many times. We really didn’t talk about him moving in last night because I was so tired but I told him we should talk this weekend because if he’s going to, he should move in before Tuesday because I’ll be out of town on business most of the week. Talk to you later!

Denise had to push back my visit for a week because her company had a quarterly financial review filing due. She worked for a public company, and because the S.E.C. had strict filing deadlines, she had to work long hours near each quarter-end. Compared to being apart for two months though, the fifteen days went by quickly. The 5 Freeway was backed up for miles for a three-hour stretch on my way to spend the weekend with her in Citrus Heights. The temperature was ninety-five degrees at seven in the evening, and the heat only absorbed the stench of cow manure that surrounded the area. I left Denise a message to let her know I was running behind. She called me back, an hour later, to tell me she would leave the door open and to just walk in. After an eight-hour drive, and two hours later than I promised, I finally made it to her house.

Under a moonless sky, I made my way to her porch, opened the front door, and was greeted by total darkness. After I quietly closed the door behind me, I took small steps forward with my hands extended out, feeling my way through the unfamiliar surroundings. I felt a chair and made my way around what had to be a dining room table. With each step I took, the wooden floor creaked loudly enough that it probably awakened her if she was sleeping. With my hands now on a wall, I came upon an opening, and when I turned to enter it, a small light in a room on the left faintly illuminated the hallway I now made my way through. When I reached the first open door and walked inside, I saw Denise’s naked, curvy body lying face-down on top of bed sheets that slightly fluttered as a two-foot floor fan in the corner softly blew life into them. I removed all my clothing and quietly took my place next to her upon the queen-sized bed. I then brought my lips gently upon her neck and kissed her.

“Hi,” she mumbled groggily.

“I am sooo sorry I’m late—the traffic was really bad.” I whispered, gently stroking her hair. “Are you okay?”

“I’m not feeling well. I think I drank too much earlier,” she replied, her voice muffled by her pillow.

“Oh no, I’m so sorry,” I kissed her again. “Do you need anything? A glass of water maybe? You’re probably dehydrated.”

“I just wanna go to sleep.” She mumbled, as she turned her backside to me.

“Alright, Sweetheart.” Sliding my hand gently along her shoulder and side. “If you need anything, just let me know—I’m right here.”

During the long drive, I fantasized about making love to her to help me get through it, but her well-being concerned me more than my libido. Staring up into the bedroom’s shadowy ceiling, a smile then broke upon my face when I realized for the first time in my life, I was where I should be—next to her. After thirty years of heartache and loneliness, I suddenly understood the treacherous journey to find where my heart resides, and it was all worth it. When I awoke to Denise’s head lying upon my chest the next morning, a huge grin broke upon my face—I was home. With her eyes still closed, she ran a hand that slowly explored my body’s southern region as the morning’s promise shone through the window. Her touch fueled a craving for her I’ve carried the minute I walked inside her room nine hours earlier. We then consummated our longing as if it was the first night we spent together on the cruise. After we caught our breath from our forty-minute session, we showered together then went to breakfast. During our quiet brunch, she asked me if I wanted to go to the movies.

“Is there any movie you’d like to see?” I asked then taking a bite of my pancake. “I’m not sure what’s out.”

“I don’t know…How about the new Jay and Silent Bob movie?” She suggested, before putting a small piece of cantaloupe in her mouth.

“I’m open—I’ll see anything you want to. Are you sure you want to see that?”

“Yeah, I’m sure,” she said, smiling. “It’s called “Jay and Silent Bob Strikes Back.” I heard it’s a lot like “Clerks”.”

“Oh, that’s right—Jay and Silent Bob are those two stoners who hang out in front of the store all the time,” I recalled while covering my mouth with a napkin as I spoke. “They’re pretty funny—Let’s see that.”

It seemed like Denise still wasn’t feeling well—she only had a bowl of fruit and hardly spoke at all. I think it worried her after I drove all the way up there that if she wasn’t feeling well, or well enough to be affectionate, that I’d be mad at her for it. Or even worse—use it as a reason if I ever got tired of visiting and wanted to end our relationship. Her fear, although rational with the types of men she’s been out with before, was irrational with me. Of course, I wanted to make love to her, but it wasn’t the only reason I drove up to see her—I just wanted to be with my girlfriend, to be able to see her dimples when she smiled and to be able to hold her.

When we arrived at the theater, we decided against having a bucket of popcorn or soft drinks—too full from brunch. When she sat down next to me, she put her hand in mine and smiled at me. I then brought my lips to hers in the fairly empty theater. Since the movie we chose was a comedy, I looked forward to seeing those cute cheek impressions of hers several more times. I envisioned us both laughing at the same parts and walking out of the theater more connected than ever. I daydreamed about leaving the theater and having to hurry back to her place because we were so hot for each other. There were several scenes in the movie that most of the people in the theater found hilarious. I probably laughed harder than anyone in the theater just for the simple fact I was in a euphoric state being with Denise. Not one single time, though, did she laugh during the movie—she never even broke a smile. After a few laughs, I felt self-conscious and held back my laughter for the remainder of the movie, afraid I was enjoying it too much when she wasn’t feeling well. When the movie was over and we were back at her house, a far cry from my dream scenario, I wanted to make good on a promise—to show her I wasn’t like the other men she met.

“Hey, do you need any light bulbs replaced, or is there anything else I can do for you?” I asked, after shutting the door behind us, now inside her home.

“Oh, no… I don’t need anything done, but thanks.” She replied, stopping at her dining table to set her purse down.

“Would you like me to wash your car?” I asked, rubbing her back. “I’d be happy to wash and wax it for you.”

“Thanks, but again, I don’t need anything done,” she said, moving away from my touch. “Did you want to study at all? You have a test on Monday, don’t you?”

“Well, I guess I can do that,” Dropping my eyes to the floor, I was shaken by her response, fearing I did something wrong but too afraid to ask. “I did bring my textbook.”

“Good… I’m just gonna go lie down for a little bit.” She then abruptly walked away into the hallway, veered right into her room and disappeared from my sight.

“Hope you feel better.” I said, followed only by the sound of a door closing.

As I walked out to grab my Intermediate Accounting textbook from the backseat of my car, I couldn’t help but wonder if I had said or done something wrong. By the time I was back inside her house, I had convinced myself that she was upset with me for something. I then pulled up a chair at her dining room table, sat down and opened my textbook up to the chapter I needed to read. An hour later, my eyes remained on the same page, only able to concentrate on how I may have afflicted Denise. Realizing this was probably just residual emotional baggage from my experience with Karyn and that Denise just wasn’t feeling well, I was able to get my mind on the right track. At about five that evening, two hours after she fled from me to nap, she emerged from her room.

“How are you feeling?” I cautiously asked.

“A little better,” She said as she took a seat next to me at the dining room table. “Did you get any studying done?”

“I did. I think I’m ready for this test on Monday,” I lied.

“Would you like to have dinner in downtown Sacramento tonight?” She asked.

“That sounds great!” I agreed, feeling renewed. “Are you sure you’re feeling up to it? I can go grab us something if you want.”

“Oh, no… I want to take you to this steakhouse in downtown Sac,” she insisted. “Why don’t you use the bathroom first? I take a little longer to get ready.”

“Sounds good.” Breathing a hidden sigh of relief.

After taking a quick shower, fifteen minutes later I ceded the bathroom to Denise. When she emerged an hour later, I could’ve sworn she had a personal stylist in the bathroom—she had never looked prettier. Her long hair dangled just past her shoulders, housing her perfectly round face, with her dark roots and highlights glorifying her silver hoop earrings. She wore a thin, white-sleeved shirt with short, blue jean shorts and open-toed heels, showing off both her breasts and legs like I’ve never seen before. While walking out together, but before reaching the car, I found myself doing something the guys she dated before me likely never did.

“You look absolutely stunning tonight,” I complimented while opening the car door for her.

She smiled wryly and nodded before she got inside, leaving me to believe she found my compliment to be insincere. I then drove us to a steakhouse called Porter’s about a half-hour away. After I parked the car, Denise jumped out of her seat before I could grab the door for her.

When I followed her inside, her hand unusually outside of mine, we were quickly met and seated by the young hostess. When she brought us to our table, I waited for Denise to take her seat before I did; instead, she glared at me, refusing to sit. Five uncomfortable seconds later, she sat while shaking her head in what I perceived to be disbelief and even disgust. Afraid to ruin our dinner, I fought back the urge to apologize for my gesture if it made her feel uncomfortable. I then ordered us each a glass of cabernet to reignite memories of the cruise, hoping to loosen her up romantically. When our chiseled jaw youthful waiter came over to take our food order, she perked up and initiated a conversation with him about the items on the menu. Hearing the sudden life in her voice, and seeing the dimples on her cheeks, made me feel relieved she felt better—that maybe all she needed was a little food. After we ordered, I felt confident I have gained back the Denise I knew and loved.

“Wow. Our waiter is really good-looking,” she gushed, just before she took another sip from her wine glass.

Her words must have caught me completely by the throat because I suddenly lost my ability to speak. I could feel my heart pound inside my chest wanting to break through—petrified to know she felt that way about another man—after all she shared with the one sitting directly across from her. I looked down on my black long-sleeved shirt, checking it for any traces of lint. I then brought my hand to the back of my neck, making sure the collar on my shirt wasn’t pulled upward. I wanted to run to the bathroom to check my hair and face but feared she would pick up on my indifference. Her attraction to the waiter caused a surge of nervous jealousy I never felt before with anyone. I then took a sip of my wine and tried to think of something quick to say, afraid she would suspect something was wrong.

“How are you feeling? Would you be up for doin’ something after dinner?” I asked, trying to keep it together.

“Like what?”

“I don’t know. Maybe go dancing?” I shrugged. “We can check out Marilyn’s—that bar you told me about on the cruise.”

“I’m not up for goin’ anywhere—I’m still not feelin’ well. I just wanna go home after dinner,” she replied, taking another sip from her glass, her eyes straying away from mine.

The waiter’s presence with our food only gave her a reason to flirt with him in front of me, but I played along with their banter to avoid looking like the jealous type to her. When her loud silence made another impromptu appearance after he dropped off our food, my mind replayed all my failed relationship experiences on a loop while I tried to put away a juicy filet mignon on an uneasy stomach. She perked up yet again when he dropped off the bill, and when he asked if I wanted a doggy bag for the road, I respectfully declined. As I brought out my credit card to pay the bill, she quickly rose from her chair and told me she would meet me outside—it seemed she didn’t want to be seen leaving with me, but alone. After I paid the bill, I tussled with the prospect of starting a conversation with her—one she gave me no choice but to have. When I met her outside and we approached the car, I took a quick step ahead of her to get the door before she did—a sure-fire way to find out the reason for her coldness in the heat of summer.

“Please don’t,” she snapped. “Why do you always feel you have to open a door for me?”

“It’s just who…it’s just who I am,” I replied, stumbling with my words while flinging the door open so she couldn’t say no. I couldn’t even look at her, afraid of what I would feel. “Please.”

She then rolled her eyes before halfheartedly climbing inside. When I closed the door, I dreaded the awkward silence that awaited me. After I got inside the car then started the ignition, I turned to smile at her only to see her seat belt was already on with her eyes fixated on what lay beyond the windshield—perhaps what she left behind in the restaurant. During the silent drive back to her place, my unfamiliarity with the streets of downtown Sacramento caused me to miss the onramp back to Citrus Heights.

“Why’d you do that?” She asked incredulously. “You should’ve made the right back there!”

“Oh boy…You’re right. I’m sorry,” I said. “I’ll make a U-turn at the next light and go around again.”

“Is this your car?”

“No… It’s a rental.”

“A rental? Why’d you rent a car? Why didn’t you just drive your own car up here?”

“I wanted to drive you around in something nicer than my Honda Civic,” I smiled.

“Ugh…It’s such a waste of money,” she said as she folded her arms across her chest.

“It’s not every day I get to spend time with you,” I soothed. “I don’t want you to think I’m cheap.”

“Why would you spend money on a rental though?” She asked. “I don’t get it. I need someone who can take care of me.”

“I know I’m a little on the short side, but I can hold my own and protect you if I ever needed to..." I claimed, trying to placate her. "if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“Never mind.” She retorted while giving me another eye roll and a head shake.

When I pulled into her driveway, I resigned trying to open her door—she jumped out before I even came to a stop. I took a deep breath before I left the “rental,” not knowing if she wanted me to come inside with her. I bravely exited, then sped up my pace to avoid her shutting the door on me. The sting of her comments exacted their toll in my head and my heart. I believed what I felt for Denise was love, so I remained quiet in consideration of her past. The truth was, the men in her life were so unkind, she could not recognize a man she should trust. In her mind, they all carried hidden agendas—more so the ones she gave her complete self to. It was easier for her to find someone else to like, so she couldn’t be hurt by the man she did like—especially a man that lived far enough away not to be trusted.

No matter how cold she was to me, I had to remember her warmth and try not to take it personally. Every man who ever stepped foot into her life, a boyfriend of eight years and even her own father, discounted her feelings and then abandoned her. After she left them fulfilled, they left her behind—empty and dead inside. Now, suddenly another man comes into her life, a “nice” guy she told him she wanted. It puts her on guard so much that she’s unable to believe he’s for real. Even a man she was intimate with, who calls her back, spends hours on the phone with her just listening, emails her the first thing in the morning, drives hours to spend time with her, opens doors for her, and never allows her to pay for anything. In her mind, there’s only one kind of man who would do all those things for her—an abnormal man, a bona fide psychopath. A stalker she should’ve seen coming from the very start…The kind of guy you ditch for a lowly waiter at a steakhouse.

This was my new reality with Denise, and I didn’t know if or how I could change her mind. I didn’t know if my low self-esteem would be able to stomach the further judgment she planned to pass down upon me—my crime for being the “nice” guy she wanted. The toughest part about it all? She had no idea how much my own past heartbreaks led me to feel the same way she did. How much I believed in a love that lasted forever and how each time I gave myself to someone, it was never enough for them. Because of that, she had no idea I was the one man on this Earth who would never abandon her. The one man who had been nothing but honest with her from day one about who he was. The one man she would one day say, “I love you” to, and be glad she did. Her love was something I was willing to earn, even if I had to walk with her through hell. All she had to do was be brave enough to take my hand…She already had my heart.

When she allowed me inside her home and even to climb into bed with her, I was determined to move forward and to put our dinner behind me. Ten minutes after we rekindled our fire, however, her coldness reappeared to extinguish it.

“What’s that?” She shouted, separating herself from my embrace and quickly scooting herself away, frightened. Reaching out to her nightstand, she turned on the lamplight.

“What is it?” I said, jumping out of her bed, fearing it was a bug, a mouse, or even a snake.

“What’s that on your leg!” She squawked, pointing at my right leg.

When I realized she aimed her finger at the small bone that protruded slightly from my knee, I felt relieved. Even though I confidently said earlier I could take care of her and protect her, I was no Ace Ventura.

“Oh, that? I was born with a couple of extra bones on my knee…See here?” I explained, then showed her the barely visible six-inch scar on my other leg. “I had the same thing on this knee but had an operation to have it removed when I was in the tenth grade. It’s a congenital condition called Osteochondroma…it’s actually not uncommon, if you wanted to look it up. It’s not contagious or anything like that. In fact, I think it skips a generation… It just didn’t skip me, unfortunately. I guess you can say it’s just a little more of me, that’s all.”

“How come you never told me about it?” Asking with an accusatory tone.

“Honestly, I thought you’ve felt it before during the times we’ve slept together, and it wasn’t an issue,” Defending myself nervously. “Since it was never an issue with my ex or with any of the other girls I’ve dated, I didn’t think anything of it. I never purposely hid it from you—if I feared it might turn you off, I would’ve never slept with you. It’s truly nothing, Denise.”

As she sat before me with disgust on her face, accusing me of a crime I didn’t commit, my heart could never afford the risk of telling her how the way she reacted made me feel. The only person who ever truly gave me confidence in this life now threatened to take my perpetually ravaged self-esteem to its lowest level yet. Even as she tore me down like an old house with a haunted past, I remembered the place where her judgments fell from and began to worry about her feelings more than my own.

I then recalled all we shared on the cruise, the heartfelt sadness and fear she experienced when our time together neared its end. There was excitement in her voice when we talked of a future together over all the hours spent on the phone; all the plans she made for us. This all added up to a test—a trial to see if I was for real—an examination to see if I was anything like the men who left her when she needed them the most. If I broke, she had her confirmation: I was no different from the traitors of her heart. This girl, who punished me for the crimes others committed, was not the real Denise but rather an imposter created to draw out the counterfeit Landyn, an emotional blackmailer who only existed in her damaged mind and heart. I could pull out all the chairs beneath her and open up every door in front of her, but she needed more than just a gentleman. She needed a man of the highest caliber, a man who could turn the other cheek until she was well again. For the rest of my visit, even after she turned off the light and stormed out of her bedroom, leaving me there alone like a snake in her bed, I put my hurt feelings aside and focused solely on hers. For the next hour, with my eyes to the ceiling, I held hope she would return—then faded away into the night when she never did.

When the Sunday morning sun rose at six, I left her bedroom and found her sleeping on a sectional couch in the living room. Afraid to wake her, I began to quietly walk away before I heard a voice asking, “Can I make you breakfast?”. Although she never apologized, I accepted her peace offering as an apology. I felt bad for sleeping in her bed anyway—I would’ve taken the couch if she wanted me to, but I thought she might come back to bed. She was surprisingly amicable for the rest of the day—we even slept together during the afternoon, making up for the lost night. When the time came for me to leave that evening, Denise struggled to let me go—even telling me she didn’t want me to. When she told me “I’ll miss you” for the first time, it seemed she changed her mind about me, and the waiter was just an escape hatch. My effort to focus on her hurt feelings more than my own paid off to put us back on track, and I couldn’t have been more relieved after a visit that couldn’t have gone more wrong. On the drive home, I fantasized about our planned trips to Tahoe, Monterrey, and San Francisco together and put my first one to Citrus Heights behind me. When I thought of all the great things we could experience with each other, I realized one important truth—nothing in life worth having was ever easy. Every love story that ever mattered had obstacles before its triumph, and an endearing quality all its own. If you didn’t have to earn someone’s heart, something was wrong. How else will you appreciate it and be willing to fight to never lose it? Sometimes, you had to kill a part of yourself, an agonizing discomfort, to become the person capable of loving the one you took a chance on. If I had to go through the darkest hell just to hear the words “I love you, too” from the only star I wanted in my sky, it would all be worth it. I left her place that day feeling certain I would hear those words very soon.

It was nearly one in the morning by the time I got home, and I didn’t want to wake her, so I sent Denise an email to let her know I made it home safely before I went to bed. She responded to my morning email later that afternoon.

Subj:

Date: 9/03/2001 2:31 PM Pacific Daylight Time

From: [email protected]

To: [email protected]

Hey. Thanks for the email. I’m kind of in a bad mood or something today. I have no idea why. I just feel depressed for some reason. This happens to me once in a while, & it drives me crazy because I have absolutely no reason to be depressed. In fact, I should probably be happier than I’ve ever been. Anyway, I have a lot of work to do today and I really need to focus.

Talk to you later!

Her email broke my heart—I couldn’t hold her like I held Karyn the day she showed me the bruise on her face. I called her when I got home after my test, and after an hour of conversation, she seemed to be in much better spirits—even told me she missed me again. When I hung up the phone, I could do nothing but smile—my life was finally going the way I always dreamt it would.

Eight days later, at approximately six-thirty in the morning, the frantic voice of a newswoman blaring from my clock radio alarm woke me up. I couldn’t make sense of her rambling and even hit the snooze button to fall back asleep—hopefully, to be reawakened by the usual music I was accustomed to. When my alarm went off, and her voice jarred me for a second time, my mind couldn’t turn off the hysteria she described—a jetliner had crashed into one of the World Trade Center towers in New York City.

I then groggily extricated myself from under the covers of my bed and stumbled into my living room like a drunk, lazily searching for the remote to turn on my state of the art twenty-five-inch flat-screen television. When all I could see was debris falling from the burning skyscraper, I almost turned it off to sneak in a few more minutes of sleep before work. When I heard this debris was actually people who jumped because they felt it was the better alternative than being burned alive, I was too upset to sneak in a few extra minutes of shut eye. Glued to the set, I watched in shock as a symbol of American financial strength and ingenuity crashed, from seemingly invincible heights, down to Earth. The second those two great towers fell, ending all those innocent lives while claiming the innocence of every single American citizen, the world would never feel the same way to me again. Little did I realize, however, that the defining moment of the new millennium was just a harbinger of things to come for me when I arrived to work that morning.

Subj:

Date: 9/11/2001 10:03 AM Pacific Daylight Time

From: [email protected]

To: [email protected]

Hi. Depressing day. I can’t believe what’s happening in New York.

As you know, Cameron moved in last week. It’s been working out great so far, even better than I expected. He’s not the same person. He’s a completely changed man. I know this will be hard for you to read, but Cam and I, we’ve decided to start dating each other. I can’t explain it, but it’s something that just happened over the last few days, something that must have been there all along.

I don’t think it’s a good idea that we remain friends. I know that it will be hard for you, but it’s for the best. I think you should take this as a positive learning experience. I’m sure one day you will meet someone. I would’ve never given Cam a chance if it wasn’t for you. Thank you for raising my standards.

Goodbye.

----------------------------------------