Opening The Vault: Part Twenty Nine

In every relationship, there comes a time when you decide to move forward together -- or not. During my long distance romance with California native Mark (a.k.a Sparky), that juncture coincided with graduating from college.

Graduation Day at MHC: Sparky’s absence didn’t bode well for our future together

Though Sparky had mentioned (more than once) that he would fly out for the occasion, he ultimately chose not to, convincing me instead to make my second trip to L.A. in as many months.

Knowing it was make or break time for us, I packed two documents. My resume, in case I decided to stay in L.A., and a goodbye letter that I had actually started to write months before. I now Open The Vault to Volume #60 and take you back to the summer of 1995...

June 4th, 1995
Granada Hills, CA

Dear Diary,

After a long flight -- with a stopover in St. Louis -- I landed in L.A. with the usual butterflies in my stomach.

As soon as I entered the terminal, I spotted Sparky sitting by the gate. He stood and we melted into a wonderful hug and lingering kiss. I held onto him tightly, wanting to savor the joy and sheer delight of the moment. After 15 months, that initial, blissful high of being in his arms again hasn’t changed.

We walked hand in hand to the baggage claim, where we kissed some more.

“So, do you wanna get married?” Sparky asked. Smiling, I rolled my eyes and asked if we could postpone talking about such heavy topics until I recovered from jetlag.

“You don’t love me anymore,” he said with an exaggerated pout.

“I wouldn’t have just flown 2,990 miles if I didn’t love you,” I insisted.

In the points-for-chivalry department, Sparky opened the car door for me. As soon as I sat down, he took my face in his hands and gave me the most delicious kiss. When the Eagles ballad “Love Will Keep Us Alive” came on the radio, I told him--

“I always think of you when I hear this song.”

“Well then, let’s hear it the right way,” he said, cuing it up on a CD and raising the volume. Our hands clasped together tightly, we both sang along and said those three little words to each other.

The music continued when we got to Sparky’s house and he put on some Sinatra. I bent down and wrapped my arms around his chest, whereupon we kissed - and burst out laughing as Sparky carried me on his back while he was on all fours. Then, we danced.

“You’ve still got it,” he said, referring to how perfectly we move together.

“So do you,” I said, as we fell into another kiss.

* * *

Despite the perfection of that ‘first’ night together again, it didn’t take long for the explosive side of my chemistry with Sparky to reemerge. A road trip -- and one of Sparky’s very bad habits -- would end up bringing us to the point of no return.