Fairy Tales can come true?

“Pleasure of love lasts but a moment, Pain of love lasts a lifetime.”
-- Bette Davis

I walked around for weeks in a daze thinking about him with a dull ache knowing that I would never see him again.

I mean really, think about it, a British sailor, New York City, one night stand...well a couple nights stand...but still what are the chances that he wasn't bullshitting me just to get laid.

And trust me if he was, it worked! He had me at British or at sailor not sure which but this was the very first time I had let myself indulge in such an elicit fantasy and if all it ever turned out to be was an elicit fantasy that I could relive with a smirky, little “I did something naughty” smile on my face then so be it.

I was going to continue to re-enjoy the moment I had already enjoyed.

I am not going to say that I didn’t secretly wish that he would contact me but I wasn’t banking on it.

So when I walked to the mailbox that June day I was not expecting a postcard from Halifax, Nova Scotia.

Or the phone call to make sure I received the post card.

His postcard swept me off my already elevated feet.

“I don’t know what it was but meeting you sparked something off up top that I haven’t see or experienced for some time.”

He wanted to know if he could come spend his leave with me in August.

Of course I said yes.

That postcard was the first of many love letters to come and from that moment on I think I truly was “Walking on Sunshine” when I floated towards that mailbox. To this day going to the mailbox always brings me thoughts of him.

I can't even begin to tell what I was feeling as I picked him up at the airport that first time because picking him up at the airport after what felt like an eternity of being apart became a way of life.

The time in between was like living in quicksand.

And the time we were together flew at record speeds.

He came to the United States.

I flew to England.

His ship docked in Florida and I flew there to meet him and on and on and on…

And every time it was like meeting a stranger that I have known for years.

That first kiss…the taste was foreign yet very familiar.

We spent those first few days reacquainting our lips, our touch, our bodies and then rest of the time melding us back into one.

Back into us.

We would go on vacation with my mother and stepfather, spend time with M3 and her family, go to one of our favorite places, Great Adventure, to get our “fix” of rollercoasters (we both had a love for them!) and of course spent hours upon hours by ourselves; talking, laughing and loving more times a day than should be humanly possible.

All the time trying to ignore the fact that he would be leaving again.

And he would.

Leave again.

Plunging us into this strange dimension of being in love and being so utterly alone.

And in between, more love letters…

“When you pick me up at J.F.K. that is the time that I look forward to, after a long stay away from you, seeing you, touching you + smelling you. I don’t even know myself, when I meet you, how much more I can love you. But its always more that the minute before and I keeps growing.”

It was truly a fairy tale.

Until…

Until it all fell apart.

Maybe it had no choice but to fall apart.

Because fairy tales aren’t really real are they?

Don’t you forget about me…

Hey, hey, hey ,hey

Won't you come see about me?

Memorial Day weekend 1991

I was finishing up my last year of college.

And even though I knew on the day I left for college that things were over between me and my high school sweetheart we still tried to make it work for sometime after that. It was messy.

But now, by now it was finally put to rest and I was “done with men”.

Yes, at the ripe old age of 22, due to my vast experience with the opposite sex, I was done with men.

Are they even men at this age?

Anyway, I had vowed off men but a group of my girlfriends were heading into Manhattan for Fleet Week.

I had declined to go.

But I did tell them to bring me back a sailor.

The next day there was talk of all the sailors, the fun, the Intrepid and how I should definitely go with them the following night.

Once again I declined.

My best (bestest, sweetest, dearest) friend in college M3 (there were 3 Ms in college; me, M2 and M3 and we called ourselves the M & M & M’s. I know silly) had met a sailor (I’m just going to call him the K-man) and she was trying her best to coerce me into going into Manhattan with her the next night.

“No”

“Just for fun.”

“No”

“It’s not like you are going to meet the man of your dreams there anyway!” “Come on please”

I love her so I said yes. And at this time in my life we did everything together.

So the next day I went.

I would love to write about how magically the city was with the lights and the streets full of service men but I went with a puss on my face and an attitude.

And this was Manhattan pre the glitz of Sex in the City and of course pre the devastation of 9-11.

This was the nitty gritty Manhattan. This was before the “Disneyfication” of Times Square.

Oh, yes, Manhattan was still magically but with a much darker edge back then.

But I was not looking at the magic of Manhattan’s city lights or the life that filled the streets.

I was looking for a way out.

And I made sure I took my own car so I wouldn’t get “stuck there”.

There is nothing worse than being stuck in Manhattan when all of your girlfriends are hooking up with sailors and you’re sitting there with a face on.

I made sure I could escape.

I figured I would go for an hour. An hour and a half tops and then I was out of there.

So, we got ready (and hey, I did try to look cute. I’m not a complete idiot.) and headed off into Manhattan. Me, M3 and two other college girlfriends.

M3 was meeting the K-man in front of the Intrepid at some certain time they set up.

We waited in front of the Intrepid. Me with my puss on my face and M3 anxiously looking all around trying to pick her sailor out of a sea of sailors.

Then M3 saw them. The K-man and he brought along a friend.

“There he is”

Two sailors walked towards us.

In the first second I thought: “Fucking great!! M3 set me up!”

But in the second moment, in the moment I laid eyes on one of the sailors all I could think was “Please God don’t let him be the K-man”.

“Please don’t let him be the one that is with M3”

“Pleeeaaaaseeee don’t let him be the K-man!!!”

And he wasn’t and the attraction was instant.

He was the most beautiful man I had ever laid eyes on.

It truly was love at first sight.

That urban myth I had heard about but didn’t think existed.

I am here to tell you that “Yes. Yes it can happen” but sadly I am starting think only once in a lifetime.

We gravitated towards each other.

We lost ourselves in each other as we strolled the city streets.

We laughed. We talked. We kissed.

I took him home. Yes, I know. Say what you will but at that time I didn’t care (and actually I still don’t)!

It was magical.

More magical than Manhattan could ever dream of being.

We spent the night together.

And the next night together.

And the night after that.

We were totally caught up in each other.

And the city, the magnificent city of Manhattan somehow still stayed in the background.

This time it was me that came alive.

Full of life and light.

Oh and I should mention that he was a sailor in the Royal Navy so he had that quirky British accent where everything he said just sounded so sweet.

We told each other that we would never forget one another.

We said it would only be for these few days.

On Monday he had to be back to his ship by 7:00 am and at 5:00 am in my quiet, dark bedroom he was whispering about going AWOL.

Or stowing me away on the ship.

We knew this couldn’t be and so I dropped him off in front of the Intrepid.

We said our goodbyes and said we would never forget.

And I honestly thought I would never see him again.

Until…

Until three weeks later when I received a postcard and a phone call.

How did I end up here? PART II

It has been 1 year since I have started blogging and almost 2 years since I started my journey to motherhood.

I would have never believed that I would still be childless after 2 years.

2 years ago I was beyond excited, beyond determined, beyond confident and full of hope.

4 IUIs, 1 miscarriage and 3 IVF cycles later…

I’m beaten down, tired, scared, fearful and somehow through it all still full of hope.

It was 1 year ago today that I decided to start blogging about my journey and ironically (this is something I never noticed before) I published my very 1st post ever on my mom’s birthday.

So Happy Birthday Mom and Happy Anniversary “A Single Journey”!

Now let’s reexamine my initial question that started it all:

How did I end up here?

In pondering how I ended up here, I related my journey back to my relationship beginnings.

Back to my high school sweetheart and wondered whether or not leaving him brought me to my present state.

I do sometimes look back and wonder. Wonder what my life would be like now if I had married my high school sweetheart.

I would have children that I am sure of but my guess is I would be divorced.

And I wonder…

Would I be resentful of my children for taking away my youth?

Would I be tired and frustrated?

Would I find my kids a choir instead of a blessing?

I would hope not but somehow when I picture that life, I have a sneaky suspicion I would have.

But, I wanted to leave. I wanted to break free. I wanted to go out and see the world first before settling down. I wanted to want to have children.

And even though my high school sweetheart is married and has 2 children of his own, I can easily conclude that leaving him is not what has brought me to my present state.

You see, I have had many relationships after my high school sweetheart. Some full of love and potential. So in really trying to determine how I ended up here maybe I need to dig a little deeper…

My single status is obviously what brought me to having to choose to pursue single motherhood.

And it is a direct result in me waiting so long to start this journey.

But what was I waiting for?

Was I waiting for “him”?

The one that got away

Could that be why I am still single? I’m still holding out hope after over 15 years that we will somehow be together again?

I made a conscious effort to NOT call “him” the love of my life after things fell apart because my life isn’t over yet. And I pray every day that I will meet “the one” I am meant to be with.

And I don’t know if you could really say that I am sitting around hoping that “he” returns.

I think it’s more like a fantasy.

I fantasize that it could happen.

But then again I also have a fantasy that I will meet George Clooney and he will give up all the bombshell bimbos and fall madly in love with me and that I will be the woman he finally marries.

So, because I have all these fantasies does that mean I won’t meet "the one"?

Or have I already met him?

Whether or not this had a direct impact on where I am today I do not know.

Maybe I need to explore the possibility.

Maybe I need to face or better yet, release the one that got away…

This is a love that still causes my heart to ache even today.

And I will never forget that Memorial Day weekend during Fleet Week in 1991.

Yes, folks I met me a sailor during Fleet Week with all the making of a true Hollywood love story that quite fitting turned into heartbreak. Because really isn’t that how all Hollywood love stories end?

Anyway Fleet Week 1991, that is where it all began…

Cue up the 90s music and get ready because I am going to take you on a walk down memory lane as I try to answer my very 1st question: How did I end up here?

In life we all have an unspeakable secret, an irreversible regret, an unreachable dream and an unforgettable love. ~Diego Marchi

A Lesson in…

Patience?

Second Verse Same as the First:

Yes, folks believe it or not it is still Groundhog Day for me!

I was given a large (and I mean LARGE) shot of PIO in hopes of inducing Leroy and getting rid of my cyst.

And it worked (sort of). Exactly 1 week later I got Leroy and I bet you can all figure out what happened next:

True to form and reliving the same day over and over...

I got my period. I started Lupron. I went for my baseline. And BOOM there’s cyst.

Well, it’s not a new cyst. It’s still the same cyst reeking havoc on my cycle.

And like a little kid I stomped and screamed:

“Why?? Why?? This isn’t fair!”

“I DON’T WANT TO WAIT ANYMORE!!”

Like the spoiled brat in Willy Wonka all I could think of was:

“And if I don't get the things I am after
I'm going to scream!...
And now
Don't care how
I want it now
Don't care how
I want it now”


And now, well now, I HAVE to learn patience once again.

Strength?

Just when I thought I was at my weakest. I was about to sit down and write a blog about how tough this is. How hard it is to wait! How difficult this journey has become! I saw this in my writings:




Somewhere out there's a dream that's not forgotten
But this world is never stopping for me
But I will try and I will keep on trying
I set my goals there's no denying
Never stop fighting
For What I believe
~ Amy MacDonald


And I knew that I had copied and pasted those lyrics at the beginning of my journey as a reminder to keep fighting.

To never lose my strength.

And now I HAVE to find my strength again.

Resilience?

And above all when you are fighting for your dream you must be resilient.

You will be knocked down.

You will get up.

Resilience.

You will have set backs.

You will move forward.

Resilience.

You will fail.

And you will succeed.

Resilience.

And now, I MUST be resilient.

I am working on being patient, finding my strength and being resilient. These are lesson that I hope are finally learned.