48 Hours In Charleston

There are some people that come into your life and then they go. There are some people that come into your life and inspire you, provoke you, make you think and make you wonder.

I met you at the Blind Barber on a Friday night in June, well after 2am. My friends and I had been bar hopping, and my best friend and I ended up at the Blind Barber to close out the night. You started dancing with me, to which I almost began getting annoyed, but something kept me interested. We danced for awhile and eventually we stepped outside to get some air. Seeing you under a streetlight, I realized you were beautiful – tall, dark, and handsome. I was ready to leave my friend and take you home with me. Unfortunately my friend protested, you offered to take us to pizza instead and I obliged. We ate slices at Fat Sal’s with our two friends in tow, but really you and I just wanted a bit more time together. We finished pizza and we parted our ways after exchanging numbers.

On a whim the next day I met up with you and your friends. I wasn’t sure I really wanted to see you again, but I had nothing better to do and your friends apartment was nearby, so there I was. We were sober, and in the daylight. A much different experience. We hung out with your friends and watched the World Cup in an outdoor bar in Brooklyn. You and I eventually split off and watched the sunset on the Brooklyn pier. The cheesiness was overwhelming, but that was your style. PDA full force. I took you home with me that night.

I let you come over at 3am a few days later. You came to my apartment with a bouquet of flowers and said, “it was either flowers or pizza”. I laughed and told you I probably would’ve preferred pizza. The next time I saw you, your visit to NYC was coming to an end. You came from a wedding with your brother, and I had had far too many drinks. We met at a bar, I took you home with me that night. You slept over and watched me get ready for work, which was unnerving for me. You mention that we will be seeing more of each other in the future. I brush it off. We parted ways awkwardly, not knowing whether we’d see each other again, what to say, how to leave things. It was sad.

3 weeks later you propose I come visit you in Charleston before you move to Australia in the upcoming month. Again, on a whim I book my flight. I cancel before 24 hours expire. We talk in the meantime. I book again… I cancel. I book again, and I cancel. I book, and I keep the reservation this time. It’s happening.

I arrive in Charleston after a week-long storm, you pick me up from the airport with a box of pizza. It’s cute considering that one night you arrived to my apartment with flowers instead of pizza. The car ride is slightly tense/awkward, but its soon alleviated after we finally kiss at your house. We go to dinner, come home, have a great night together.

After some morning fun, the next day we go out for a nice bike ride throughout your neighborhood and the island. It’s beautiful and surreal. We go downtown Charleston and walk around for a few hours in the heat. We enjoy getting to know each other. That night we go to a BBQ your friends are having, they are all older and Latin, yet, it’s surprisingly fun. At one point of the night, someone asks how we met. We exchange glances and tell the honest truth. “We met 3 weeks ago. At a bar. We were drunk. I’m visiting for the weekend”. Latinos love a good love story. Too full to go to bed or to even have sex, we stay up and watch a movie on your couch. I like the way you rub your scruff on me.

I wake up Sunday feeling bittersweet. You’re laying next to me, but something about this all is too surreal. We go for another bike ride to the beach and through the neighborhood. It really is lovely. I would do this every day if I could. We bring our breakfast to the beach (the most godly breakfast burritos, cronuts, and fruit). In the water, we have a moment. I’m wrapped around you and we talk about fate, and how crazy it is that we met that one Friday night, and how I’m here. Then, I remember you’re moving to Australia. We have a fantastic rest of the afternoon – we go to Middleton Place, which, in itself is beautiful and romantic. After a drink, we walk the gardens, sit on the grass, and just talk. It’s almost euphoric. We leave eventually, and go to the Angel Oak, which is breathtaking. We grab one more drink together, before rushing home to grab my bags and for you to take me to the airport.

You drop me off at the airport. We part with a kiss, and a goodbye. You say you’ll be out to visit me in the city in the following month. I hope you do.

Feeling somewhat dismal, yet incredible happy with such a whirlwind weekend, my flights home are a blur. When I finally touch down in NYC the man next to me with a British accent and I get to chatting. He is very attractive, yet I didn’t even notice, as I’ve been in my own world. We exchange numbers and later that night he asks me out for drinks. I somehow see this as a sign from the universe to move on and place you on hold … if not, try and forget about you.

You truly are one of the most inspiring people I’ve met. It’s not that you make me want to be a better person (although yes, that’s there too), but you make me think and you make me curious about the world around me. You open my eyes. I’m often unfazed by people, simply because they don’t have this about them. You have this aura that makes me want to understand everything, be more worldly, to better comprehend. You truly inspire me. I’m not easily inspired by people. And if that’s all I’m left with, then I am happy. Something in me wants to be selfish and keep you to myself. But as things stand, you make me feel wonderful. I feel lovely when I’m with you but ultimately, you’ve affected me. For the first time, I’m letting fate run its course here. Because so far with you, I’ve been exactly where I’ve needed to be.