(If you haven’t read Part I, go there now.)
I opened the door to the hotel room and we both smiled and probably squealed a bit and hugged right there in the door. He was there! I was there!
It has been months since we’d last seen each other.
I felt nervous and excited and SO happy to see him. It was clear he felt the same, too.
Our chemistry and the way we interact was always cute and flirtacious and there was no reason for it to have changed. He smacked my butt while I made us drinks and found music to set the mood. He got his things settled in the room and my nerves started to relax a bit.
We made conversation about normal stuff. He buzzed about the room and I made him show me all the outfits he packed (even though we both knew it was going to be just for a few overnight hours…but he was always prepared with multiple clothes and boots, shoes, belts, matching socks, etc…too cute).
It felt amazing to lay in his arms again.
A few hours later, it was about 11pm and we were hungry so we went to the only restaurant open – IHOP. It made me laugh because the last meal we had shared before this was at the Bel Air Jazz Club in Los Angeles. I appreciated what we both had in common – the ability to go from fancy to, well, IHOP, and have just as good a time at both.
We sat on the same side of the booth and we shared stories about our childhoods and we caught up about things in our lives that we hadn’t had a chance to speak about in detail. We laughed at the only other couple in the place (they were in their 70s) and how they BOTH were on their phones and one on a tablet, not speaking to each other.
We made the observation that we could never be like that and I hoped my partner and I could always have something to talk about. Like me and Mr. Vegas always did.
During dinner the thought crossed my mind that he’d be leaving in the AM, but I quickly brushed it away. I wanted to enjoy every moment I had with him.
Morning came sooner than I wanted it to and we woke up cuddling.
I felt safe and warm.
And then it happened.
My walls started coming down.
Ever so weary of the time crunch, emotions rushed to the front of my mind and my heart started breaking open.
My mind started reeling about how much I cared for this guy who I was going to have to let go of and possibly never see again.
As he held me, I began to lose it.
The tears started streaming down my face.
I did my best to be quiet about it and as I was laying on his chest, I kept my head tucked underneath his chin.
But he heard me.
“Blu…” he called me.
(“Blu” is his nickname he gave me when he first saw my blue eyes almost six months before.)
“Don’t cry, Blu…” he said, as he pulled me closer and kissed the top of my head.
He knew this part was going to be tough for him, too. And before he could say anything more, my floodgates poured open.
I couldn’t help it and within thirty seconds I was full-on sobbing in his arms and sputtering to get out what I’d kept buried deep inside of me for months.
“I fucked up. It’s all my fault. This is my fault! I should have said something to you earlier!” I sob as I lay on his chest, him holding me closer.
“No, Blu,” he said. “It’s both our fault. It was just poor communication.”
I cry and cry and continue on…
“You’re so amazing. You’ve been nothing but good to me. We’ve had such wonderful times together. And (insert my son’s name) loves you. And now you’re leaving…”
“Sshh…it’s ok…” he tries to calm me down.
The feeling I was feeling hasn’t been that intense in I don’t know when. Maybe never.
It wasn’t a break up kind of pain, where there’s anger and resentment and hurt.
No, this was different. This was my heart literally breaking. The feeling that for the first time in a LONG time, real and true feelings and emotions for a man I’d met online, dated and had juuuust about started to take form of a real relationship had grown to be what they were.
And I was going to lose him.
My mind couldn’t stop flashing back to all of the memories we had made – the laughter, the love, the joy.
And then I remembered that day in church.
“But I PRAYED for you!” I continue to lose it. “I asked God to show me who it was and you showed up the next day. And because I didn’t realize it until it was too late…now this?”
He pulls me close and kisses the top of my head again.
“Don’t cry, Blu. It hurts me when you cry,” he said.
I don’t really recall what happened next.
There was no point in trying to figure anything more out, though. His decision was already made. He was moving to New Orleans.
I was crying more out of frustration and sadness than anything else. I guess I hadn’t really realized the true impact of what I was feeling but as strong of a woman as I am (and one who can seriously keep emotions like this in check), I had no control over what was happening. So I surrendered.
He held me and I cried, calming down from sobs to more calm sniffles and then basic, simple tears.
I told him that I didn’t want him to think I was trying to get him to change his mind and that I was just upset, and he told me how much he appreciated me letting him be the parent he needed to be for his daughter.
I couldn’t argue with that.
“You’re going to meet a great man, Blu. Someone you deserve. He’ll be allllmost as amazing as me. Not quite, but a close 2nd,” he chuckles. “I want you to be happy.”
I just smile and shake my head.
“You’re going to come see me, right? You’ll visit?” he asked.
“No. I can’t do the long distance thing, you know that. It was hard enough with Vegas and LA.” I said.
“Well, this isn’t he last time we’re going to see each other. I know it’s not,” he tells me.
Eventually I calmed down. Some time had really passed. Still in his arms, he told me he was sorry but he had soccer clients he had to get back to for coaching sessions.
I told him I’d be fine, to just go. I’d be ok.
I look up at him with my tear-drenched face. My eyes were bloodshot and my nose was running beyond belief. He looks down at me.
“I love you, Kerianne.” He said.
“I love you, too.” I said, and he kisses me.
It was the first time I had said those words to anyone in over 7 years.
At that moment we were both on the very same page. We both shared the understanding of what was.
It sucked. It was painful. And so real. There was love there, but as the cliche goes – if you love somebody, let them go.
He held me a bit longer and I realized his strength during this whole thing.
“Why aren’t you crying? Are you upset? I feel like an idiot here,” I told him.
He pulls me in for a close squeeze and told me he was trying to be strong. He was holding it together for me.
“I’ll probably lose it as soon as I get to my car…”
A few minutes later, he got up and started gathering his things. I stayed almost paralyzed in bed. Tears started to flow again as I silently came to terms that the hours we had left were now turning into minutes.
Wiping my snotty nose on the crispy white sheets, I tried to pull it together to say goodbye.
He kissed me and we said a few simple parting words.
“I don’t regret doing this,” he said.
“Me either. I’m so glad we got to see each other,” I said. “Drive safe. Let me know you’re home ok.”
And then he left.
I jumped out of bed, wrapped in the sheets, to stand by the window overlooking the parking lot. I watched him walk to his car.
It’s funny how you only treasure those moments when you know it might be the last time you ever see somebody in person.
His car didn’t move for 10 minutes.
He sent me a text, though, saying something sweet.
Later I asked if he cried when he got to his car and he said “yes.”
Such a bittersweet thing to know, but at least I wasn’t alone in my feelings.
The 2-hr drive back to Los Angeles was difficult for me. It gave me a lot of time to process our goodbye. I called my best friend, James, and filled him in on the details. As always, he listened to my story and gave sound advice that Mr. Vegas wasn’t my guy for several reasons.
As tough as it was to deal with, the experience was necessary (and a gift) to have.
It’s been a month since we’ve last seen each other. We still talk often.
He left Vegas arrived in New Orleans yesterday and I called him several times during his long road trip to keep him awake during the late hours on the road. We’re friends. We love each other and we want the best for the other.
I learned so much from my experience with Mr. Vegas…
I learned to not be so harsh with my expectations of finding “my perfect man” and to recognize the important difference between ambition and passion and working towards something, versus money in the bank and a lack of deep connection.
I learned that my heart didn’t dry up on me during this seemingly long period where I hadn’t connected with someone on such a deep emotional level. I’ve always had a big heart and at times I’d wonder if I was doing something wrong by not falling for other guys I had met. But being with Mr. Vegas reminded me of the huge capacity I have to love someone – and how amazing I know it’ll feel when I meet the man who’ll get my WHOLE heart, and reciprocate the same amount of love back to me.
Maybe we’ll re-connect in a year when he plans to move back. Or maybe not, because I’ll have found the perfect guy for me that he predicted I would. Who knows. I’m open to whatever the big man upstairs has in store for me.
And as always, I continue to learn patience while I go through this “Sex & The City” life of a woman who’s single and dating that I’ve built here in Los Angeles.
And so…the shenanigans continue.
In the meantime…
Thanks for reading. Thanks for allowing me to share real, authentic stories with you. You are so appreciated. xoxo