The afternoon was one of those perfect June Colorado days. We met at his place, packed the car, picked up a snack at Mc Donald’s and headed out to the mountains. The plan was perfect: His friend had an ancient cabin nestled in Mount Princeton just outside of Buena Vista. We had been dating for about six weeks, this was our first vacation together, and I felt the buzz of excitement swirling around my brain.
In my vivid day dream memories we had rocking sex at night, strolled hand in hand through a charming festival by day, sipped wine by the roaring fire in the evening, and hiked in the hush of morning with the dogs. In reality, the sex was decidedly vanilla, he smoked tons of pot, walked ahead of me clearly annoyed all day, avidly avoided all alcohol, and slept in so I explored the scenery with the dogs alone. At the time I tried to ignore his inconsistent behavior—didn’t he lean over a small café table littered with our dessert to tell me he was smitten with me only a few days prior?—and hoped his asshole-ness would go away.
It never did and we broke-up over the phone the following week. I wish I could say that that ended it. Breaking up rarely ends a relationship, however, and I still pine for this man—the man he could have been—to this day. Where did the charming bastard go? The one who wooed all of my friends and left me giddy with delight? Even he couldn’t explain it. When he finally got up the nerve to officially break up with me his reason was “Je ne sais quoi.”
Loosely translated it means: I have no fucking idea. Tyler is not the only man who in reality doesn’t live up to what I want but I want him anyway because he could be that man. Read more . . . .