It’s almost as if I can smell him through the screen.
His emails were masculine, just like him. More factual than feeling. Bolder than I would dare to be.
We talked about the plans we were making and how work was going but most of the time the emails didn’t involve talking at all. They were poems we liked, passages of a book one of us was reading, a link to an article that would make the other think.
I’ve never had a connection with a man like I had with him. We were both smart, and weird, the kind of people who don’t find many people like them throughout their lives.
I pause between emails to remember the first night I spent at his apartment. We met through friends and this is the first time we were hanging out. We had hit it off at the bar and we went to his apartment afterward because he had a nice view of the city. It seems like a flimsy excuse now, but it seemed so romantic at the time. I don’t remember what we talked about because I was too nervous and I kept wondering if we would kiss. Instead we laid in his bed in the dark breathing with our mouths a few inches from each other and I remember thinking about how lucky I felt.
The Gmail search feature is so dangerous. It’s nice to know those emails are there, in the archives. It’s nice to know that I was loved and that I know how to love. But it’s not something that’s meant to be opened up and pored through and dwelled on.
I need to remember the feelings, not the specifics. I need to remember that someone I loved thought I was beautiful and smart but not that most of the emails in our exchanges are sent from me. I should spend a passing moment being happy that my life was filled with this man for a few months, but not hours wondering why I couldn’t make it work and whether I will meet someone as good as he was again.
There’s that saying that boys are like busses and you shouldn’t worry about missing one because another is always coming along. This isn’t specific to men, or even dating partners. Life is always bringing us new things, new people, new experiences. It sucks to be stuck on one individual, to worry if they were the best one, of all the people you’ll meet. I just have to trust that just as suddenly as my ex came into my life and just as perfect as he felt, well, chances are it will happen again. And I’ve got a lot of years and a lot of busses left.