Yes It Was. in Open Diary 2001-2018 (Pre-Prosebox)

Yes, that was “REALLY” to the third power. And yes, he was always that adorable.

I’ve written about Sam before. But it was in an old OD when I had another name. I think it was a long-ass four parter entry I titled something like “All the Loves I Ever Lost”. I’ve been in love (romantic, fairly long-term relationships) four times. But it’s Sam that I keep coming back to time and time again when I think about real, beautiful, pure (but oh so complicated) LOVE.

And I’ve been thinking about Sam a lot lately. I suppose it’s because I’m lonely and I miss that combo package: a life filled with highs and lows and someone, a best friend and lover, to share everything with. Of course, it’s never perfectly neat and clean. But it sure looks like it to me as I look in from the outside and I long for something I don’t have.

So what happened to Sam? Sam was the one that got away. Several times. We met in college. Had a class together, and it started out as this cute little teasing thing. I fell for him the second he snapped my bra after class one day. After dating for over a year, I transferred schools. He followed eight months later. We moved in together and everything was magical. For a while…until it was time for me to graduate.

I started stressing about the whole career thing, but he was still just getting back into the swing of school (he’d quit for a while). He was the most happy-go-lucky, easy going, laid back guy I’ve ever known. So when I took a job that had me traveling all over the state and stressing every night, he didn’t take to it very well.

He tried. Yes he did. He left little notes like the one in the previous entry all over the place. He cooked me dinner at night. He rubbed my back and brought me beers. He was a dream. But I was a nightmare.

Finally, I was offered a transfer that required less travel, but I had to move two hours away. You’d think that wouldn’t be a very big deal, but it was. I think he was starting to give up on me by that time.

And that, of course, made me desperate. I tried so hard to keep the relationship alive. I went to see him as much as I could. I think we were just both exhausted and miserable. I hated my job and he hated seeing me all harried, stressed, and desperate. It became forced. We both knew that we needed a break. For a little while.

Finally, that break came in the form of his decision to study in France for a few semesters. It would have been a simple way to say goodbye for a while, but as luck or fate or something would have it, I got the opportunity to take some time off and go to Europe too.

During the six months I was in Europe, I spent a lot of time just hopping around from place to place. Sam and I saw each other a couple of times, but each time we did, it just got a little more awkward. Still, I just knew that it was temporary. We just weren’t yet in the same place. It would only take a bit of time.

I’ll never, ever forget the last time I ever saw Sam in person. I went to the South of France, where he was living at the time, to spend a long weekend with him. The vibe was kinda strange. I was happy, but I just knew that something was not quite right.

I can’t remember what was going on, but I went upstairs to take a shower and ran across a pile of letters from people I recognized back in the US. I flipped through the pile. They were all mutual friends of ours since we’d been together for so long. But then I noticed a letter from someone I didn’t know.

I’m ashamed to admit this, but I opened that letter (he’d already read it…it wasn’t sealed). It was from a girl he’d been seeing before he left. It was so eloquent and romantic…she missed him…a lot.

Have you ever felt your heart sink so heavily that you thought it would fall through the floor and just sink to the core of the earth? I have. I had taken my baby for granted. I’d just assumed that we’d always be together. Why not? We’d been together for over five years and had survived two other long distance stints and my boiling stress levels.

So the note made me frantic. I went crazy. He’d been traveling, so I went through some bags and found his journal. I started flipping through the pages. Searching. What did I think I was going to find? Proof that he still loved me? I guess. Because he did. It was all there in black and white. Yes, he still loved me. But he loved his freedom at the time, too.

And then and there, I finally backed off. No more pulling. No more pushing. I still loved him too, but I knew I needed to respect that freedom.

[Aside: Yes, I should have respected his privacy, too. I know. I still feel guilty to this day. But I swear, what an eye-opener]

I let him go in a way. Obviously not fully. Not in the deepest corners of my heart. But I decided to stop clinging outwardly. I decided to stop making efforts. If we were meant to be together, he’d come back to me.

Months later, I was back in the US, he was still in France, and the letters started up again. He initiated. I reciprocated with caution. I was too scared to get too involved. I was seeing someone at the time. And so was he.

And then they stopped.

Still months later, I got a call from his sister. She and I had gotten close during the years that Sam and I were together. She told me that Sam was moving back. My heart did a little flip. But then my heart sunk to the core again: he was bringing his new French bride back with him.

Sam and I talked one last time on the phone after he’d gotten back. It was awkward and heartbreaking and wayyyy too much for me to handle (though I think—I hope—he couldn’t tell over the phone).

His sister used to write and call from time to time to give me little updates on his life. He and his wife moved back to our old neighborhood, a mere three blocks from where he and I once lived. When she got pregnant, I got a call. When the twin baby girls were born, I got a letter.

And suddenly, it all stopped. No more updates. No more calls. No more letters. No more nothing. I think Sam told her to stop because I think she was updating him on my life as well. I wasn’t prodding or prying at all. I think his sister just wanted to share the news with me. But each tidbit she’d send my way would leave me hungrier than the last.

And I haven’t heard anything for over five years now.

It’s not that I pine away for Sam. I guess it’s just that in times like these when I get that strange combination of being stressed and lonely…and I’m getting ready for another Europe trip, and all of these emotions start bubbling up. They’re different, but they’re familiar.

I suppose that’s what got me thinking about Sam. And his little notes left all over the place. And faraway places. And freedom. And never truly being free.