I want to think it's real
but damn it really seems rare
I’m a deeply nostalgic person so I’m never surprised when an object has the ability to transport me back to a beautiful memory of a time or a place. I consider myself a collector of cute things. I like to pick up small souvenirs and trinkets. (Yes, tattoos fall into this category, and I love to get them when I travel.) I also love if the item is functional. Anyone who knows me knows I own about 50 coffee mugs and can always convince myself one more is a good idea. They all have a good story, they all spark joy.
I was not, however, expecting to be hit with a deeply nostalgic feeling from stumbling upon some used matches, left sitting in the built-in cupholder of a beach chair. That felt a step too far, even for me. But it definitely happened.
The boys and I have been down in OC for about a week and after days of their insistence that they didn’t want to go to the beach, I finally convinced them to make the trek across Coastal Highway to put our toes in the sand and enjoy the ocean. As I got everything situated and unfolded my chair, I looked down and saw the used matches laying at the bottom of the canvas cupholder, sprinkled with a little bit of sand. I remember the day they ended up there so vividly.
I’ve been in two ‘real’ relationships since my divorce. This was the second one. This was a person I connected with, had so much in common with, and yet also was so completely different from at the same time? Which makes no sense but made perfect sense to me. I thought I had found someone who saw me. Someone who understood me. Most importantly, I thought I found someone who genuinely wanted to be with me, and who was truly worthy of my time and love and attention. I wanted to think this was real. That this was how you build a love with someone.
We had a bit of a whirlwind romance, and a very weird schedule because he travels so much for work. He’d be around for a week, and then gone for three. But we made the most of our time together, and both understood that often, much of that time would be spent doing homework or work work. But time together was always peaceful, and always included delicious food, usually home cooked. Damn this man could cook.
We were able to go on one trip together, but it didn’t exactly go as planned, and for me, that was the first time that the reality of our compatibility (or lack thereof) started setting in. My close friends have heard all the details here, it still makes me cringe to think about them. We did, however, manage to make it through that trip, and have a good time, though I think it was the point where the rose colored glasses came off for both of us.
A few weeks later, we were able to spend a quiet November weekend together here at the house in OC. A weekend that basically left me oscillating between “this is so nice, maybe we’re going to be ok” and “I really don’t think this is going the way I thought it should.” The weekend was filled with calm and space and beautiful meals and laughter and watching old movies. Despite the chilly fall weather, we did make it to the beach. We bundled up and brought the big cozy chairs and the instant camera and a little pre-rolled joint. I couldn’t find a lighter anywhere in the house, but I did find some matches. We had a bear of a time getting that thing lit with all the wind and I ended up creating a ridiculous tent with the blanket and we made it work.
We smoked and we shivered a little and we watched the waves crash in front of us and didn’t need to say much of anything. I snapped a bunch of bad instant photos and it was damn near perfect.
The pang I felt when I found those matches still sitting in that cup holder 7 months later wasn’t a longing for that relationship, or a wish that it had worked out differently. In the end, it truly wasn’t the right fit. We ended things on good terms, and I wish him the best. What I felt was a genuine curiosity about whether I’ll have that sense of hope again. Whether I’ll be able to find it somewhere in me to believe that a deep connection like that is not only possible, but possible for me. I’ve become so skeptical. I want to think it’s real, but damn it really seems rare.
This week, as the boys and I got ready to leave the beach, I folded up the chair, turned it upside down and let the wooden matches tumble into the sand. I save and collect all kinds of things, but this whole memory felt like it was asking to be released. It served as a reminder to trust my gut and shake things out. In the mean time I’ll continue moving toward things that bring me joy, and try to remain cautiously optimistic about finding real love at some point in the future.
Until next time…