September 16, 2016

This Is How It Fucking Happens

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Björn Simon
Björn Simon

This is how it happens.
You will meet the banker. And you weren’t even looking.

Everything is going so well for you lately. You quit the job with the long hours. You pursue your passions. You frequent the gym more. And actually enjoy it.

It’s all going so well for you.

Your body changes. Your mind thinks differently. Clearer. You don’t get that drunk anymore. You rarely ever light up a cigarette.

Everything is going so well for you.

You lose those last few pounds. You’re never flaky with your new friends. You get invited to special events.

You feel fulfilled. It’s all going so well. This is how it happens.

You gain self confidence. You’re celebrated with Tinder matches and nights out on the town. You discover a new side to you. You like it.

It’s all going so well.

Everything finally fits into place. It’s going so well.

You’re in the Big Apple one weekend. Snow falls the first night you’re there. You dive into a swanky restaurant and sit at the bar. You feel so Frank Sinatra. Or Jacky O. With a spice of Marilyn. Very stranger in the night.

You smile and take off your scarf. It’s all going so well.

You order yourself a glass of red. You swivel it around. You smell it. You taste it. And you conclude that it is exactly what you wanted.

Tempranillo.

It’s all going so well.

You think about nothing. You observe. You unbutton your coat. You take another sip.

You glance around the bar and lock eyes with a blue eyed gentleman. Oh New York.

It’s going so well.

He stands up and approaches you. You can’t help but blush. He asks to sit next to you. You smile.

You chit chat. You laugh. You have another glass of red. He tells you he’s visiting from San Francisco too. You exchange numbers and make plans to meet back home.

It’s all going so well.

And this is how it happens.

You get back to your hotel room. You shower and finalize your itinerary for the weekend. You can’t sleep. You’re in New York City. You get on Tinder for no reason at all.

Then you see him. You don’t know him yet but you will. It’s an instant match. He initiates a conversation. Your heart flutters.

He likes red wine and dark chocolate. You love red wine and dark chocolate. He enjoys working out. You love working out. He’s looking for a woman with great style and a great smile. You remember you brought your best clothes on this trip. You can’t help but smile.

It’s all going so well. You agree to meet tomorrow night. This is how it happens.

You rush through the next day as fast as you can. You give yourself two hours to get ready before meeting him. The place is only four blocks away but you decide to take an Uber. You’re wearing your best heels.

This is how it happens.

He meets you at the door. He knows the Maître D. You get a table even though you’re just having a drink. The restaurant is packed.

This is how it happens.

He speaks slowly. He smiles a lot. He doesn’t break eye contact. He talks about red wine. But you can barely hear anything. He smiles again. He has a European accent. He’s moved around just as much as you have. You both also speak Spanish. It’s going so fucking well. You’re the luckiest girl in the world.

Then you realize you’re half an hour late to meet your friend for dinner. You apologize and tell him you must leave. He pays the bill and catches you a cab. You hug. He smiles and waves goodbye.

It all went so well.

The smoke from the potholes fill the streets as you’re whisked from the Upper West Side down to the Lower East. You talk about random things at dinner that have no meaning. He text messages you some info on a red wine that you were discussing earlier. Your heart inexplicably sinks. You’re uneasy and you can’t shake it. You get drunk.

It was all going so well.

The rest of the weekend passes quickly. You drink too much. You get back to San Francisco and try to pick up your old routine. It all feels different now.

It was going so well.

A month goes by and you still think of him. You plan another trip to New York and try to make it business related. You know you’re lying to yourself. You text him to feel out the situation. He sounds eager to see you. This pleases you.

You seem happy again. This is how it happens.

Over the next two months you exchange text messages every few weeks. You mostly talk about red wine. Neither of you touch on anything personal.

You don’t know if it’s going well.

He will surprise you sometimes and say little things that remind you why you like him. Things are so much clearer in New York. He asks you when you’re coming.

It seems to be going well.

You get to New York again. It’s not quite Spring yet, but there’s no more snow on the ground. It’s just plain cold.

You bring new best outfits. You dress to slay. You meet again and all goes according to plan. You say goodbye. It’s a déjà-vu. The cab. The smile. The wave.

You feel defeated. The rest of the weekend is similar to your last trip. You meet up with some friends and get too drunk.

You go home. You feel nothing. Your old routine is unbearable.

It was all going so well.

A few weeks later the text messages start again. He pursues you more ambitiously than ever this time. A little out of the blue. You remind yourself that men are from Mars and nobody understands them.

He comes to San Francisco to see you in the Summer. You go wine tasting in Napa. You dress up. Every day. He meets some of your friends. Nobody says anything. There is nothing to say. The weekend feels neutral.

You continue to remind yourself of that feeling. Of that peak clarity you reached the first weekend in New York. You convince yourself that he is the missing piece to your puzzle.

It all goes downhill from here. This is how it happens.

Your work declines. Your health declines. Your clarity declines. Nothing is ever good enough anymore.

It was all going so well.

You get drunk more often. You smoke cigarettes weekly. He still writes you but everything is hazy. You can’t seem to let him go. The puzzle has so many more missing pieces now.

You block him. You unblock him. You lose all clarity. You do things outside yourself.

And this is how it happens.

You finally ask for more. He can’t give you more. You have no clarity. He seems to have it all.

You end things. He doesn’t fight for you. This crushes you. You are the unluckiest girl in the world. You stop going to the gym. You start flaking on your friends. You lose all self esteem.

You remember when everything was going so well.

You fall into a slump. You want to throw it all away. You lose it.
You think you’ll never make it out. But you do.

And this is how it happens.

You write this story. And you gain some clarity.

The seasons change. And from now on you remember that red wine gives the worst hangovers.

And you only drink white. TC mark

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