Page 56 of Love Harder

He told me everything.

We grew close.

As did my feelings.

I tried to stop them. But it was hard to defuse something that only continued to burn bright and be the light when you were lost in the darkness for so long.

Brooklyn was the surprise I did not see coming…but did I mention I fucking hate surprises?

Things were solid for a long time.

I knew his routine.

He knew mine.

We grew closer and closer, so it was inevitable that my original plans to stay for three days extended to six. He knew all along I was returning to America, so when the time came, I was both excited and nervous.

Before I boarded, he called, wishing me a safe flight.

When I landed, I had a missed call and a message from him.

I called him back, and it was surreal that we were finally talking in the same time zone. He expressed his excitement to see me. We had a week of work to get through before I would go down to see him.

It was a relief that things were still the same. That he didn’t get cold feet. He was still the same man I had developed an attachment to.

But my guard was still up. History hasn’t been kind to me and my heart. It had a photographic memory, and the pain associated with the memories was a reminder to be cautious because if something is too good to be true, then most times, it is.

But it’s not all doom and gloom regarding my bad choices in love. My friends are to thank for that.

And cocktails.

My experiences with love have had me having some very interesting conversations as well as meeting some exceptional people. One of which I wrote about previously, and her name is Psychic.

Always putting my faith in the universe, I believe there is no such thing as coincidences, which is why when a year ago, I stumbled across a neon green palm reading sign in Times Square, I knew this was the universe speaking to me, and as I always say, when the universe speaks…listen.

And I am so glad that I did.

It was here I met Psychic.

Whether you’re a believer or not, faith speaks to many in different ways, and for me, Psychic spoke to me when I needed guidance. She spoke to me during a time when no matter how many times I assured myself it would be okay, my heart wouldn’t listen.

I fought against myself every day, and I was doubtful I would ever see the proverbial light at the end of the tunnel. The harder I tried to be “normal,” the harder it got to breathe.

So when I stumbled across Psychic on that snowy night in New York, something inside me shifted, and I felt like me again. I wish I could explain it better. But sometimes there are no words to explain something that shouldn’t make sense but does.

A year later, I walked the same street but with a different mind frame.

I felt “better.”

Although I had experienced some really shitty things, I was a lot more centered. When I saw Psychic a year prior, I felt like a baby bird who had just learned how to fly. Now, I had taken flight and seen what was out there, and I needed her to undo something that continued to clip my wings.

Again, it doesn’t make sense. But I couldn’t help but feel that whatever Psychic had done with MR. J, I needed her to undo ASAP because I constantly felt as though my bad luck with men seemed to stem from that meeting.

It was as if MR. J was a huge roadblock, and whenever I made some sort of progress with men, something would happen and the last man standing was always MR. J.

Do we need a recap on who MR. J is?

My first love, the guy who broke my heart, only for me to go back a billion years later and for him to break it all over again.

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