I moved down here to escape. From winter, from snow, from Mom and Dad and doctors and hospitals and iv drips and needles.
I found where spring was hiding. There were pink flowers in February! And the sun felt fantastic. I made a point to go to the beach every Saturday. It's my therapy.
I thought, since I’m in the neighborhood, enter J. He said as much the night we talked. But it’s sad; he can’t. We went on one date to the movies and one lunch. He came over after my party and talked about himself all night. He loved me. Then he left - in the middle of the night. Can’t find the time to listen to me, or even inquire how I'm doing. The one text a week I sent him felt, in his words, "oppressive."
"It would be selfish of me to keep acting on my feelings considering my severely limited time and emotional energy." he said.
"That’s really the bottom line from my perspective." He concluded.
So, I stopped trying.
I found the coolest little bachelor pad with a great view of the ocean. All of my things fit – literally – my wall hanging went right onto the nailholes, my mattress slid in the Brazilian wood bed frame, and terrier-shaped coasters greeted us on the kitchen counter. It’s lovely.
Listening to the waves from my beach towel every Saturday, I think I’ve pretty much cleansed my anger and frustration and disappointment over Baltimore. It felt great to update my friends on the color of the ocean here while the snow was falling.
And there are lots of cute guys and I am having fun with them. But still...
Maybe next year I’ll move to New Orleans.