How Did It End?

They say that the key to real estate is location, location, location. For relationships, it all comes down to timing, timing, timing. If you meet someone at the right time, things can be amazing; you can get everything that you've ever wanted. If you meet someone at the wrong time, it can shatter the illusion and destroy everything. But how do you know when the time is right? What happens when you meet the right person at the wrong time? In a world of 8.2 billion people, how do you know if you've ever met the perfect person for you?

The day after my birthday, I woke up earlier than I'd have liked. One thing people don't talk about is how much more you have to pee as you get older. I know I must have done some damage to myself as a teen -- holding my pee -- but for the past three years I've had to wake up at least once per night to empty my bladder. It doesn't matter if I cut liquids off four hours before bed, or an hour; inevitably I will be awoken by a full bladder.

As I got back into bed, my blurry thoughts went to my fabulous birthday. I had had a really great time with Max; it had felt nice to feel part of something, to have someone who cared as much as he did. Most days it felt like the only people who truly appreciate my terminal uniqueness are a few of my aunts and cousins, probably because they themselves were also freaks in the eyes of the general public. I knew that we weren't dating or anything yet, but getting a preview of what it could be like -- with someone genuine -- was amazing. It almost beat out my thirty-second birthday in New York, seeing Lea Michele in Funny Girl -- and getting her autograph. Don't even get me started on having the gorgeous and amazingly talented Ramin Karimloo walk by me outside the theater...I still regret not asking for a picture.

For some reason, my mind fixated on Vaughn's adoration of Princess Peach. It irritated me that even now, in 2025, there wasn't much in the way of merchandise; a few plushes, the occasional figure, but nowhere near as much as there are of the other characters. I knew it wasn't a sexism thing, because the Star Wars franchise heavily marketed its female characters. They still made new Princess Leia action figures, not to mention books and other media tie-ins . I wanted to go back to sleep, but then I remembered that when I'd been cleaning the week before, I'd found a mini-Princess Peach figurine that my little cousin had given me from one of her toy sets. I decided that I wanted to give it to Vaughn; I figured he'd appreciate it a lot and the idea of putting a smile on his face warmed my heart.

I told myself I'd go back to sleep and later, when I was working on cleaning up, I'd find that figurine, but my mind fixated on it to the point where I couldn't fall back asleep. Only slightly grudgingly, I threw the blankets 0ff and turned on the lights, hoping this would be a quick endeavor. It took a few minutes, but she was roughly where I'd remembered her being. I didn't want to bug Max; I knew that he was at work, and I also wanted to see if he would reach out on his own, but my excitement grew so strong that I had to break down and tell him. I wasn't doing it to win Vaughn over or manipulate Max into thinking I'm a better person than I am; I genuinely wanted to give Vaughn something that would have meant the world to me as a kid. Of course, I knew I'd have to find something for Lenox too; I didn't think it was fair to give one kid something and not the other, but I still had a lot to learn about the boys. I'd have to pump Max for information the next time I saw him.

Even after finding the figurine, I was unable to go back to sleep, so I decided to have a cup of coffee and read for a while before I got to work actually cleaning.

A few hours later, I was deep in cleaning mode, when I heard Max's unique text notification over my speaker. I didn't want to seem desperate, so I didn't rush over to reply, but I was glistening with a fine spritz of sweat and my stomach was rumbling, so I figured, why not take a break? After all, the body needs fuel just like a vehicle does, and surprisingly, the two glasses of wine and Burger King I'd had the night before were not upsetting my stomach.

I poured myself a bowl of Special K -- fruit and yogurt -- and checked my phone. Not only had I gotten a response from Max; I had gotten three! What had I done to deserve such an honor? I had made good progress on my cleaning and couldn't wait to send him a picture. His praise meant more to me that I wanted to admit. I opened the first one and furrowed my brow in confusion. It was a screenshot of a conversation, so was the second one. The third text said that he was going to need a few days, that whatever had happened had shut him down, but he'd be back.

As I read the screenshots, I felt my blood begin to boil. Somehow, Vaughn's mom had found out that he wanted to be Princess Peach for Halloween, and she was not happy. She went so far as to blame it on Max being "gay now, or bi," and said that his sexuality shouldn't be leaching into Vaughn's personality. First off, that isn't how sexuality works, if it was, I'd be very straight and would be obsessed with cars, hockey, football, and golf. What made me even more furious was learning that she hadn't seen Vaughn in three years. Three years! Vaughn was almost five. What kind of mother doesn't see her son for three years? What kind of mother didn't even get custody of her kid? What kind of mother gets upset that her five-year-old son wants to be Princess Peach for Halloween, especially in 2025?

It sucked, but I had made a promise to him that when depression got ahold of him and he needed a break, I would give it to him. I hated that it was so often, but I also had depression and understood that you can't control when it hits. All I could do is be here for him if and when he needed me. I didn't want to admit it, but it was starting to feel like every time we made the slightest progress toward an actual relationship, Max shut down. Maybe he wasn't really gay. Maybe he just wasn't attracted to me. Maybe this was all too much for him.

Later that day, I was taking a longer break from cleaning and decided I'd go on Etsy and look for something cool to cheer myself up. I had already spent more than I should have to treat myself for my birthday -- one Armani shirt, one Karl Lagerfeld shirt, three Versace shirts, and one Roberto Cavalli shirt -- but I'd gotten them all on eBay and had paid far below normal retail price, and besides, when you have a shopping addiction and buying things is your pick-me-up, there can never be too much. I was still mad that Max had been attacked by Kimber, and I felt bad that Vaughn wasn't being accepted by his own mother, so I decided to see if I could find something cool for him. I typed in Princess Peach, and without having to scroll too much, I found a 3D printed Princess Peach figure that was very affordable -- and nine and half inches tall! I'd have loved to have had that as a kid! Though, truth be told, I had always preferred Peach's dress from my childhood to the newer, more elaborate model. I bought the figure and smiled. It would be for Vaughn's birthday, but also a fuck you to Kimber.

The rest of the week went by in a blur of work, reading, and spending time with my babies. Max was on my mind a lot, but I respected the fact that he needed space. I watched the 1985 version of Kiss of the Spider Woman -- not a musical -- and found that I could understand and appreciate the story better. I wished I'd watched that version first, so I could have appreciated the musical more. I had loved being able to be alone in a theater and be silly with Max, though.

I had to run into work early -- for me -- Saturday afternoon to get Rochelle her pay; my boss was in Tennessee for the weekend, which meant that I was fully in charge. I was not about to let anything happen to make me look incompetent. By the time I sorted out Rochelle's pay, it was late enough that I'd only be able to sleep for forty more minutes before I had to get up anyway. I was craving a grape Powerade -- my favorite -- and decided to go to the gas station to get one. I knew that Max would probably be there, but it wasn't like I was forcing him to talk to me or anything. I'd just run in, grab my drink, pay, and leave. Absolutely no pressure.

I picked out a killer outfit: my zebra print Roberto Cavalli dress shirt, a fabulous pair of form-fitting bellbottoms, and my plaid coat. I wasn't ecstatic about having my hair up in a ponytail, but until it grew out of the awkward phase where it was pretty much unmanageable, there wasn't much choice. I chose to leave my glasses on, since my reflection in the mirror was not pleasing. I looked tired, the bags under my eyes full to the brim. I grabbed the Princess Peach figurine to put in my car so that I wouldn't lose it again.

As I walked in, I spotted Max's curly black hair. Thankfully, he was looking down and hadn't spotted me yet. Why had I thought that this was a good idea? There was no way that this wasn't going to look like I was just pushing him to talk to me, and at his job, too. How declassee! I grabbed my Powerade and as I turned to go to the register, I looked up and saw that he had spotted me. He waved, making me feel like the biggest cretin in the entire world. I should have just gone to the grocery store.

"Hey! How are you?" he said as I approached the counter. He looked tired, his eyes glazed and unresponsive. There were bags under his eyes that weren't normally there, making him look far older than his twenty-six years.

"Hey. I'm fine, you?" I wanted it to keep it casual, as if running into him hadn't even occurred to me.

"I'm barely alive, so....You're up early."

"I had to get Rochelle her pay because the boss is out of town for the weekend," I replied. "But it's fine, my alarm was about to go off when I woke up anyway. It just sucks that I had to give her the majority of the cash I'd taken toward my pay. I have credit card bills coming out on Monday and I need to get money in my account ASAP. Versace does not pay for itself."

"That does suck. I can't believe you have to do that."

"Normally it's not an issue, but he left Friday morning. I'm hoping we have a lot of cash tonight so I can get all my money tonight. I don't want to have to make two trips to Bay City this week."

We fell into easy conversation, which made me hopeful. Maybe he was coming out of his funk. Maybe he wouldn't see this visit as me bum rushing him at work where he'd have to talk to me, at least a little bit.

"I read your column," he said ominously and I winced.

"And you hated it?" I tried to make my tone light, jocular, but I could feel a knot of anxiety forming in my belly.

"I didn't hate it," he assured me, smiling. "You're a good writer. You write very nice things about me. Too nice, sometimes."

He started looking around and I noticed that for a brief moment the store was empty. I thought it was weird that they had him working alone, but maybe his coworker was just on a break.

"I'm glad we're alone. There's something I wanted to talk to you about." I felt my stomach drop to the floor but tried to keep my face impassive. No matter what he said, I couldn't react. I figured he had changed his mind about being comfortable with me writing about us, or I wasn't going to be able to see the boys for awhile, lest Kimber try to start more drama. The last thing I wanted was to be falsely accused of molesting a child again.

"Oh?" I tried to keep my tone playful.

"I don't think that I'm emotionally ready for another relationship right now. I think we should just be friends for now."

His voice seemed to be muffled or as if coming from a far distance, but I forced myself to smile and nod. What else could I do? Somewhere in the back of my mind I had suspected that this was coming. I wasn't mad about it, but I was disappointed. After all, I'd just started to finally let myself be vulnerable and open with him. I had grown too attached for it to be an easy, clean break.

I wanted to leave, but I knew that if I did, I'd just crawl back into bed and obsess over it. If I didn't have to work, I'd probably have cried myself to sleep. Max kept talking, being as close to normal as I'd ever seen him. He wasn't upset, so I needed to keep my shit together and be an adult.

He took me outside with him so that he could hit his vape. "Are you mad at me?" he asked, sounding hurt.

"No, I replied. Not mad, but definitely not happy. I wondered why I even bothered hoping for the best in my romantic endeavors anymore; no matter what I did, I never got what I wanted. I was far from perfect, but I always did the best I could with what I had.

"Okay, it's hard to tell."

Max held his vape out to me and I gave him an 'are you fucking kidding me?' look. "Seriously?"

"Sorry. It's habit," he explained, taking the vape back.

"If I don't get sick tonight, it will be two weeks since I've had any stomach issues, I'd like to keep it that way."

"Do you think it was the cigarettes that did it?"

"They weren't the main cause, but they certainly didn't help. Apparently the only vice I'm allowed to have is shopping now. I can't smoke cigarettes or weed, can't drink, can't do edibles..."

"Have you ever considered that maybe your stomach issues are caused by stress?"

"I'm sure they are."

"Maybe you could get on Xanax or something."

"I'm already on Zoloft."

"You are? I didn't know that. Could it possibly be a side effect of the Zoloft, then? I know the side effects can be different for men and women."

"No. The last time I went to a doctor about my stomach issues, I mentioned that I'd been on Zoloft for two years, and he said that the side effects wouldn't have taken that long to present themselves."

A couple of people walked into the store and since he had to go back inside, I saw it as my opportunity to flee before I made a fool of myself; or more of a fool than I already did. "I wasn't sure when I'd see you again, so I put that Princess Peach figurine in my car. I'll go grab it."

I rushed to my car, feeling as if I was sloshing through water. Having my hopes dashed was not a new experience for me, but it had never felt like this before. I wasn't mad, I didn't feel like crying yet, I just felt hollow. I grabbed the figurine out of my cup holder and headed back into the store. As I was walking in, Max was finishing ringing up one of the customers. I handed it to him and his eyes got wide with excitement. "Aw! This is going to make him so happy!" Seeing the joy on his face felt like a knife in my heart.

"You can tell him it's from you. I don't care." I pulled my phone out and showed him the figure I'd bought off of Etsy. "I got him this for his birthday, too. It's supposed to come next week." I had debated even telling him about the 3D printed figure, but at this point, there was nothing to lose. I wanted everything out in the open before the interaction ended, in case he blocked my number or completely stopped talking to me.

"You didn't have to do that!"

"I know, but I wanted to." Knowing that we were done, I felt stupid for buying the toy, but I also knew that I'd done it to make Vaughn happy, not as a way to manipulate Max into seeing how great I could be.

"You are so sweet..." He looked like he might cry, which made me feel worse. Should I have just kept my mouth shut? I knew that he felt awful about ending the romantic side of our relationship; the last thing I wanted to do was make him feel even worse.

"You can tell him that's from you, too."

"No, I'll tell him it came from you."

"He doesn't even know my name," I pointed out. "You never introduced us."

"He knows you're the tall, skinny guy who comes over to use the dryer. He's not good with names. He kind of just makes up his own names for people."

"Then tell him it's from Nick-a Nick-a Nose."

"Nick-a Nick-a Nose," he replied, smiling at the memory.

"Anyway, I should get going..."

"You don't have to..."

"I have to get ready for work, and you're busy." By then, more customers had matriculated into the store. I didn't want to get him in trouble for socializing instead of working.

"Do you need to use my dryer?" he blurted unexpectedly as I started to turn away.

"My cousin stopped in yesterday and was nice enough to take my towels and work clothes home to wash them for me. Good thing, too, I've been out of underwear for a few days now." A sick part of me wanted him to think about me, in those tight jeans, no underwear underneath.

"Well, that's good. I was worried about how you were doing your laundry. You're more than welcome to come use my dryer."

It was an olive branch, and I appreciated the gesture, but I knew myself well enough to know that if I didn't get some distance from Max, there wouldn't be anything worth salvaging. In the past, I'd always taken the rejection easily -- at least to the guy's face -- but convinced myself that if I kept at it, kept showing the guy how much I care and how supportive I could be, he'd realize how stupid he was being and choose me. It never happened, but it didn't stop me from repeating the same mistake over and over. I didn't want to do that with Max. At thirty-five, it was time for me to grow up and accept defeat. This rejection wasn't based off of anything I'd done; this was very much Max's issue. As much as it hurt me to walk away, it was the only option available to me.

"I don't want to be all up on your dick all the time," I muttered, desperate for any excuse that didn't sound rude or petty.

"I wouldn't call that being all up on my dick all the time."

I smiled sadly. "I should go. I have to work soon."

"Okay. See you." I turned away, but before I got out the door he called, "I'll text you." I think we both knew that that wasn't going to happen. Every time he'd said that previously, I'd had to text him to start any kind of conversation. This time, I was done. I wouldn't be texting him again unless he texted me first. I had to detach. We exchanged an undefinable look which seemed to simultaneously last forever and a single beat, and then I left.

And just like that we were over. I could continue to see Max -- as a friend -- and continue pining for him, hoping that he'd come around, but then I'd be holding myself back for someone who might never be ready. There are so many guys out there; I wouldn't want to miss out on someone who could give me what I want, for a guy who could not. For my own sanity I decided that the only way forward was to close the book on Max and me. He was a very sweet guy, and we could have been great together, but if I didn't force myself to move on now, I'd be repeating those unhealthy mistakes from the past. I didn't want to grow to resent him or regret the time that we spent together. The sad truth is that he couldn't give me what I wanted. I wanted someone who would text me back regularly, who could give me 100%, not 5%; I wanted someone who didn't shut down when life got to be too much but allowed me in so that I could be loving and support him through life's ups and downs. I wanted someone who couldn't go days without speaking to me, who cared if I was in his life or not. I wanted a partner, not just a friend.

Had I really liked Max that much, I wondered, or had I simply liked what he represented: stability, a family. Was it the thrill of the chase that kept me going back for more while I worried that I was making myself look desperate? Had I been drawn to him because he was new to being with a guy and I wanted to be the one to make him fully gay? Had I liked the idea of not having to worry about getting cheated on because I knew that I was the better looking of the two of us?

In the future, possibly, I'd be willing to reopen the Book of Max and start over, but for now, I had to do what was best for me. Obviously, I'd have to see him again to give him Vaughn's birthday present, but then I'd have leave it at that. I am thirty-five and completely on my own; while it wasn't the ideal scenario for me, I had to focus on the positives. At least I was free to do as I pleased; I had to love myself enough to know that I deserved better than to be an afterthought for anyone. Being single was not something that I was unaccustomed to, but maybe it was time to stop pinning my hopes and dreams on a man and embrace the freedom and privilege of my situation. I didn't have to stop looking for love, but I didn't need to make it the main focus of my life. I could keep going on my quest for a partner while still respecting myself and knowing my worth. Being single didn't mean that I was less than or lacking anything. While I didn't have a special man in my life at the moment, I did have some wonderful friends and my fantastic cats to make the single life even better.