A Year on Rocky Shores

A great cliché, but a true statement none the less: there's always a guy.

For me, it was Keith Kitter.

Like most love stories, or at least the good ones, our love started as a hot ember, burning stronger and stoked by every breath. Our first date was one of those nights that seemed to linger on till morning. Our second date was an adventure, driving 5 hours away to go camping on the shores of Cape Cod. Our third date I made dinner, shrimp scampi. After that, you know it was settled. We were each others, or at least, that's what I told myself.

Let me also get one thing straight. This is not a story of cheating or backstabbing. It's not a tale of male scoundrels and damsels in need of rescue. It's the story of me and my incessant desire for love.

Once you feel the heat of those early flames of passion, nothing else can warm you. At least that's what happened with Keith. He was intoxicating. Walking in the park that warm summer night sent tingles down my spine. As my hand swayed back and forth to match our pace, it burned to be enveloped by his. When you can feel your body trying to escape your bounds, it's not a sign of connection as much as it is a desire for connection. A desire for love with this figure in front of you that seems so perfect, so close to you. We sat on a park bench, my shoulders turned and heart open to him and we let the moonlight coat our faces like oil until our glistens in the evening illumination convinced us of attraction. We saw each other the next weekend.

I packed up my SUV and awaited his arrival. We would drive down to Cape Cod and stay in a cottage together. I fantasized about warm, buttery lobster rolls, tart Italian ice, and rubbing the grainy sand off my legs in exfoliation. Before an hour was up, we were discovering differences in ourselves. Things we quickly passed over on our first evening together...things that would make a five hour drive seem like it carried on for days. When we arrived we had an incredible time. The lobster was fresh, the ice cream was satisfying and the sand was every bit as relaxing as expected. Lost in this temporary paradise, I ignored the testy attitudes and meaningless arguments. We made love for the first time that night.

Once we returned to NY, we moved in reverse for the better half of a year. Our ember turned to dust instead of building a fire of a tremendous scale like the ones I read too much about. Instead, I moved in with him. I got a puppy. I wove our lives together like a quick stitched blanket. But fabric is flammable and summer has returned.

I find my sandy toes being licked by our puppy. My belongings shoved into corners of our apartment. My car filled with memories of our travel. Unfortunately, none of it feels like it's mine. The only thing that still belongs to me is my decision to stay in a relationship that doesn't seem to work. Like I said, Keith isn't a bad person. He doesn't hit me. It isn't even so much as toxic. I'm just not happy anymore.

When I say there's always a guy, I mean there could always be another guy. Don't let summer drag on more than it needs to.