My March man.

He gives me this hope

That there could be a day where

I would be happy.

I love him for his

parley enriching words like

dilettante, ethos.

He called me out on

my limp hand and the fact that

we found no real spark.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

We talked for close to three hours tonight. We talked about goals, how time is our most valuable commodity, how money doesn't matter but people talk about it like it does anyways, his 900 dollar zegna jacket he wore on our first date, how I wore a 40 dollar jacket with the price tag on it for three weeks because I was so on the fence about my purchase, girls who date white guys, girls he's dated, assholes I've encountered, the crappy salmon dish he ate tonight, the joy of home-cooked food, and other topics I wish I could remember at this moment. I always love talking to him, always have. Conversations are so intellectually stimulating it feels like a high after every time we hang up, by the time we finally force ourselves to hang up when it creeps a little too close to the hours of the next morning, that is. That's how all conversations should be, something you come out of feeling invigorated, recharged. He jokes that I just go on and on and he's a good listener. I tell him he can always hang up, and yet he never does, instead choosing to complain and exclaim about how much time has flown by so far. The sad part about tonight is that we'll probably never talk again, as tonight was the end of us.

"For our third date, you know where I would've taken you?"

"Where?"

"Niagara. Because you told me you've never been there."

"But I just don't find the appeal in Niagara. It's such a tourist trap. Besides, wouldn't that be like, a trip?"

"It would be a day trip. But it doesn't matter, we would have fun. We'll always have fun."

He told me he cares about me. I know it's true but I find it kind of funny, seeing as I met him in mid February, and mid-March has barely passed us by. He said he's never made it past four dates with a girl, ever. Not since his last relationship anyways, which was half a decade ago apparently. He said, with me, with the way we talk, with our conversations that makes time escape and sprint away from us, it felt like, shit, six dates.

I asked him what made him approach me in the first place. At first he misunderstood the question. What, he said, you mean what made me send you that email? Well ok yeah, I said. I was pursuing you, he replied, and if it were just a general party, I would have asked for your number. I responded to that with, oh, I figured since you told me you didn't like the selection of girls there you thought, might as well get at least one number. He laughed, and said holy shit, is that what you think of me?

"Ok, well why did you pursue me?"

"Because I liked you"

He told me how he loved how we butted heads all throughout our first date. I told him because I couldn't tell when he was being facetious, I ended up taking everything at face value.

I loved how he had that spontaneity about him, how I had so easily convinced him to go to Terroni just for tiramisu (until he found out that I had it the day before), or how he approached this random girl and asked if she knew who Dr. Ho was. As a non-tv watcher I had no clue who this guy is and wouldn't believe him when he said "everyone knows who Dr. Ho is". In fact, he wouldn't believe me when I said I hadn't seen those P90X and Insanity commercials. I like how how he's neither frugal nor a spendthrift, the perfect balance of someone who knows how to enjoy his money but is fiscally responsible at the same time.

I told him my favorite thing about him was how he mentioned he was mobile. He said he basically had no roots here, that he could just up and leave. I said that it was rare that a person who's stayed in basically the same place all his life could have that kind of feeling. It was my observation, and I loved that about him given that I'm a bit of a nomad to begin with.

"For me, it's a dealmaker"

"A what?"

"You know, a dealmaker. The opposite of a dealbreaker. I can bet you a hundred bucks I know where my ex-boyfriend is going to die. What I told you about Montreal, how I felt like my brain was gonna die before my body, part of it was from that."

"It's like that chinese idiom, with the frog in the well. Some people are just missing out"

"Yeah! But It's like, you never know what you're missing out on, right? It's hard to actually come to that realization"

So far, he's called me a control freak, anal, pedantic, nitpicky, sharp, wise, quick-witted. I've called him overly-analytical, too procedural, aggressive, intelligent, the kind of alpha male that I'm attracted to.

I wish I could bottle up this last conversation and savor it like every spoonful of the best soup in the world, but the sad truth is our exchange is already beginning to ebb away from my mind.

At 1.30am I cut the flow of our conversation by abruptly saying that I was going to hang up. How rude of you, he commented. I'm doing this for you! I fired back. See, you're always so caring, he said.

"So we all good?"

"Yeah"

"Well then take care, get better soon, and your knees too"

"Oh my god, you remember my comment about my knees? What, you were paying attention? There are men like you out there??"

"Yeah. Refreshing, isn't it?"



It's funny how relationships like this you end up finding out a lot of what you don't want in the other person. This time I ended up finding out a lot of what I did want.

I'm going to miss him so much.