Two months ago I was on a cruise ship making its way through the Mediterranean towards the Atlantic. My friend Brian and I sat down to dinner and were surprised when we were joined by two girls our age, Lucia and Andreea. Cruises aren't exactly known for hosting people under forty, let alone pretty Romanian girls.
Fast forward two weeks and we say our goodbyes without remembering to exchange contact information. There's a dreamlike atmosphere aboard a cruise ship that makes you forget about practical things like that.
I visit a friend for a few hours in Miami, and then he drops me off at the airport. I've got about ten minutes to kill before boarding, so I fire up my web browser and start digging through sites I'd been neglecting on the ship. TheFlightDeal is one of them, and there's a huge headline about an obscure European booking site charging about half what it should for all flights between the US and Europe.
I hate to see a good deal go to waste, and Romania is on the mind. There are questions that could be asked, like: will I be able to get in touch with the girls before I get there? Is Bucharest miserable in the winter? Will they even be in town? Will they want a visitor they've only known for a couple weeks?
One of the things that's missing from my writing is emotion, and I know it. I'm always trying to correct that by looking for ways to add emotion to my writing, but I rarely find them. The truth is that ninety nine percent of the time the only emotions I feel are some variation on joy, gratitude, and excitement. I don't have bad days, even when "bad" things happen to me.
I remember when I broke up with my last girlfriend. I was standing in the airport, about to leave for Tokyo, and she called. We talked for about ten minutes, agreed there was no way forward, and I boarded my plane. I loved her, had thought that she might be the one, and had no bad feelings towards her at all. But I wasn't really sad, because I felt as though we'd given it an honest shot and that we were doing what was best for both of us.
Two days ago Lucia and I broke up. Broke up is an overstatement, actually, since we weren't really ever dating. But there were a few weeks where we envisioned some sort of future together, and I was intoxicated by it.
As someone who rarely allows reality to get in his way, the distance and divergent and chaotic schedules didn't phase me. I'd found someone I really liked, and despite having little basis to believe that it would last, I poured myself into it emotionally. I do that, sometimes. I count on myself to be able to rebound from anything, so I put myself into situations where I may get hurt, physically, emotionally, or financially.