I found myself on the road to San Diego to meet back up with the love of my life. It had been over a year since we said good bye that morning, wondering if we would ever see each other again. Wondering if our love would survive the distress of distance. Survive the immaturity of youth. Survive the temptation of separation. We had only seen each other once since that morning. We spent a week together in San Diego. It was a glorious week and helped to renew our feelings for each other. That was over seven months ago.
I must admit that my last year on the island without her was difficult. I spent more time on that island than most people ever do. People arrived, became my friends and then left the island for their next duty station. Most of them I would never hear from again. That is the Navy life. The last six months I was there, I did not even bother to meet new people as I was tired of the circle of loss I had been enduring for over two and a half years. I just focused on making it through to this day.
I spent the last month in Seattle being processed out of the Navy. It was not an easy decision to leave the cushy military life I had known for six years, but it was the only way we would truly ever be together. How could I spend the next two years on a boat in the Mediterranean and expect that we would find each other in the future. How much longer could we beat the odds? Besides, I had gotten what I wanted out of the Navy, an education, a skill, a future. Now it was time to begin my life, my life with the woman I loved.
It seemed we had beaten the odds and survived a long distance romance. Now it was time to pick up our lives where we left them a year earlier. She still had nine months left in San Diego before she would have to transfer to a college. Then four years of school and back into the Navy for six more years. None of that mattered to me as all I cared about was that we would finally be together.
I drove to San Diego with a feeling of anticipation. The anticipation of a life I dreamt of and was ready to have. We had been planning this reunion for months. She had found us a one bedroom apartment in the flight path of the airport and had already moved in. It was close to the base and close to the beach, the best of both worlds. My immediate plans were to take a few months off. Spend as much time with her as I could. Get to know the love of my life again.
Our reunion went as expected. We spent the first week getting to know each other again. Reacquainting our minds, our hearts and our bodies. You can write to each other every day and talk on the phone regularly, but it is not the same as seeing, touching, embracing and loving someone in person. It was obvious that the feelings we shared on that island still existed within our hearts. At least it felt that way to me.
It was week two when I met him. He was one of her classmates. Her friend. Someone she had spoken to me about on the phone many times over the last year, but someone that I had paid no attention to. It happened the first time I met him, saw them together. That is when his intentions became clear to me. A guy can see these things in another guy. I normally wouldn’t have worried about a guy like him, as many men have tried to take away my love, but none were able to succeed. But he had a year alone with her. A year to be her friend. A year to plant the seeds of doubt in her mind. Not making her doubt me, as much as making her doubt herself. I imagined his conversations with her, telling her that she was too young to be so involved with one man. That she would change a lot over the next few years at school. How could she know I was the one true love for her? Playing on the immaturity of youth. Doubts that I think, in my absence, she began to believe.
I also saw in her that she had not fully survived the temptations of separation. I knew she had grown attracted to him as well. I’m sure she was not ready to admit her feelings for him at that point, but I knew they were there. Under the surface, waiting to be exposed. I could have left right then. I could have run away and just accepted that the time apart was just too much for us. Accepted that we hadn’t beaten the odds, but this time it was my turn to try and be strong for both of us. To try and hold us together despite the inexplicable force that seemed bent on tearing us apart.
I stayed. I tried to make the best of things. At first it wasn’t hard. I had advantages. She hadn't realized her feelings for him yet. There was the newness of us, the renewing of our relationship to help me fight to keep our love together. But these advantages would only last so long and after five months I could tell I was losing the fight. I couldn’t blame her. We met so young. The doubts he had instilled in her mind were real. How could she know we were meant to be together forever? Forever is a long time when you are 22 years old. She hadn’t had that many boyfriends in her life. She hadn’t had that much life experience. Not like me. I had basically been an adult since I was 16. I had already been married, had a child and lived a lot in my short 24 years. For the first time, I seemed so much older than her.
We tried to pretend that nothing was wrong, but we both knew better. She hadn’t acted on these feelings she was struggling with, but she could not ignore them either. We began to drift apart. We were living in the same one bedroom apartment, but things weren’t right. We weren’t connecting mentally or physically. By now I had my own job and was spending my days working and my nights doing anything but facing the inevitable. The last few months of her tour were hell for us both.
She chose the University of Arizona as the college she wanted to attend. He chose a different school. One that wasn’t close to her. Now he had to fight the battle of distance. I thought maybe this would give us a chance. Maybe if we moved to Arizona together, then we would be able to repair our love. That she would realize that I was the true love of her life and he was but a mere distraction. But that wasn’t going to happen. She decided, and then told me, that she wanted to go to school by herself. That she didn’t want me to go. She needed time to figure out things in her life. This was probably the right decision for her, but it was still painful for me. I decided to leave San Diego a few weeks before she was scheduled to transfer to Arizona.
So we found ourselves saying goodbye again. And I found myself heading home, crushed by another of life’s exercises in love. Sure we promised to stay in touch, to always be friends. But, I didn’t know if we could be friends after all we had been through. I didn’t know if this was the end for us. All I knew was that I had been hurt again. Hurt by another woman I loved.
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