Over the summer of 2006, I met a girl who was nothing like I had ever known before. She was sweet, innocent and full of love. She’d hold me tight whenever she was blinded by bright lights inside the clubs we would go dance at, and she’d whisper sweet nothings into my ears after just two drinks telling me how she thought of me in the daytime when we had to be apart, and how she would talk about me all day with her cousins in anticipation of seeing me later. I saw her every single day that summer.
On the weekends, when she could escape from her father’s clutch and tell him that she was going over to one of her cousin’s houses, we’d spend the entire day on the boat. We’d leave the docks at 8AM into the Long Island Sound and spend the whole day diving, sun-bathing, dancing and drinking, docking at Bracco’s for lunch and Paddy McGee’s for their sunset party. We’d spend the day in one another’s arms, locked deeply in each others gazes. The summer of ’06 was magical. It was one of those summers that someone, somewhere, writes a movie about. Boy meets girl, they fall in love, and by the time the summer ends so does the relationship because: college..
I recall being sick to my stomach for two weeks after that summer ended. Her, back in Georgia, me somewhere in the skies finishing my check rides. There were days where all I wanted to do was throw my instructor out of those planes and fly straight down there, to her.
And as time goes by, so do the memories, so I wrote her one last letter explaining why that summer, and her, meant everything to me.
As we approached the runway, my flight instructor yelled at me to slow down. My head was still in the clouds, but I had to snapback into reality. I walked away from the hangar and my blackberry’s ringer went off. It was her, and she was balling like I had never heard her cry before. She had just read my letter in an email I sent, and she said it was the most beautiful thing she had ever read. A couple of hours later, as I arrived back into the city, I pulled into my parking lot and just sat inside my car wondering if I would ever have that love we just spend three months developing, again.
Down for getting dark ’cause the dark gets me
and all the other lovers make it so heavy.
Takes a little emptiness to feel complete
when crowds come ever-thicker and liquor it comes free.”
It’s funny. That night, as I sat in that car, I knew that it was over. I knew that we would never have any of that again. Somehow, something told me that we both had known that our forbidden love would never again be. I died a little in feeling all of that. A part of me went numb.
The mind tends to do this thing where it runs through every beautiful moment and memory of a relationship the second it knows that it is over. That happened to me then. That also just happened to me when I hit play right now on this “Get Dark” tune by The Zolas. The only difference between then and now is that I am no longer devastated about the whole thing. In fact, I think that that particular story was one of the most beautiful ones I have ever lived, and I am beyond happy and grateful to have lived it.
Many times I’d roll my eyes at those people who would spit that stupid fu$#ing cliche out of their filthy mouths, about how it’s better to have loved and lost than to never have loved at all, until I finally understood it all with that one, short-lived relationship. And now I too have become one of those moronic fools embracing lost loves instead of the ones that never happened.
Drums loop in my head.
Feel most alive when my phone is dead.”