Opening The Vault: Part Thirty Three

Just as the beginning of a relationship brings out the best of you, so does the end of it unleash the worst. Avoiding that inevitable progression became increasingly difficult during my fifth trip to see California-based beau Mark (a.k.a Sparky).

Torn between my love for Sparky and the pain of living 3,000 miles apart, I knew that --after more than a year together -- this was make or break time for us. I now open the vault and take you back to the summer of 1995...

June 6th, 1995
Las Vegas, NV

Dear Diary,

Went to Circus Circus today with Mark’s sister and her boyfriend. While we were waiting for the car, I threw a coin in the fountain outside the Mirage.

When I threw a coin in the fountain, Mark asked what I’d wished for. I put my arms around him and said--

“What could I possibly wish for?”

“That’s right,” he said snidely, “What could you wish for that you don’t already have?"

The Mirage Hotel: An uncomfortable moment by one of the fountains here exemplified the growing tension between Mark and me (photo Courtesy: IgoUgo.com)

I was incensed -- even though I knew I had indirectly provoked Mark’s nasty comment. When I tossed my coin, I told him that in Rome, the tradition goes -- throw one in to return and two to get married. When asked how many I’d just tossed, I looked at Mark intently and said--

“One.”

I guess on some level I wanted to hurt him, I wanted him to feel the pain I’d been drowning in all day.

On our way to Circus Circus, we spotted a tall space needle, disagreeing on whether it was the world’s highest structure. It felt like we couldn’t find enough reasons to argue.

I gave Mark one of my pouty looks, and he did the most unexpected thing, putting his hand on my knee as he said

“God, I love her to death!”

What is it about these three little words that make all problems suddenly melt away?

June 7th, 1995
Granada Hills, CA

After heading back to L.A., Mark admitted he’d found a growth on his stomach. Given his history of cancer, we were both worried. He wanted to have the pimple extracted the next day, apologizing needlessly for having to alter our travel plans.


June 8th, 1995

While Mark was having the procedure done, I felt very restless -- and not just because of concern for his health.

I was completely overwhelmed by everything that had happened. The tumultuous trip to Vegas, bickering on the way back, and now, this cancer scare. All I kept thinking was that my relationship with Mark was rapidly becoming more than I could -- or even wanted to -- handle.

In desperate need of some comforting, I called Mom. Upon telling her my unhappiness, she said--

“You have to ask yourself if this is what you want to be committed to at this stage of your life.”

As if she already knew the answer, Mom went on about the people I would meet now that I’ve graduated and moved back to NY.

“You’re coming home to a new life,” she said.

And in those words, my eyes were opened to the only choice -- breaking up with Sparky.


The decision to end it with Sparky came in the middle of my trip. With my departure still three days away, I had no idea know when (or how) to tell him. The answer came soon enough, during an unexpected jaunt to San Diego.

Opening The Vault: Part Thirty Two

When a relationship isn’t working, it feels like conflict looms around every corner -- like each moment is a ticking time bomb. My fifth visit to see California-based beau Mark (a.k.a Sparky) had us both on edge and unable to halt the growing tension between us.

A trip to Vegas only made things worse, as we found ourselves disagreeing on many things, including how to spend our vacation time. I now Open The Vault and take you back to the summer of 1995...

June 6, 1995
Las Vegas, NV

Dear Diary,

Today started with me heading to the Mirage Spa while Sparky went to the casino. When I joined him, he continued playing the slots for two hours.

Even though I was hungry and eager to get to the pool, I reached deep inside myself to remain in good spirits. I figured by accommodating Sparky, the rest of the afternoon would be oriented toward what I wanted to do.

Over lunch, he made me believe this himself when he mentioned all of the different places we could go to. I said that all I wanted to do was spend time with him by the pool.

The Mirage Hotel’s pool complex: Mark and I saw little of this during our ill-fated trip to Vegas (photo courtesy: Johnny Jet)

It wasn’t a great meal. Mark spent most of it talking about his experiences with other women, saying I’m the only one he’s dated more than once.

After lunch, Mark said he would meet me in the room in an hour and left me standing in the lobby. I was dumbfounded. Hadn’t we just agreed to spend the day together?

Needing a change of scenery, I left the hotel and went to a mall. I was so hurt, so overwhelmed with sadness and anger. Suddenly, breaking up with Mark seemed like the only recourse I had.

I walked back to the Mirage expecting to find him waiting for me in our room. But as I was passing through the lobby, I heard him call out my name.

My heart stopped. He was still playing Blackjack, having obviously forgotten we’d agreed to meet upstairs.

Later, we went to see the pirate show at Treasure Island. I couldn’t really get into it despite Mark’s efforts to be affectionate. I suggested we go for a sunset stroll afterward, but he was adamant about going to the casino instead.

* * *

The worst of our Sin City debacle was still to come. As fate would have it, though, it was something beyond Mark’s control that pushed me to finally make the decision I had been wrestling with for months.

Opening The Vault: Part Thirty

When a relationship is unraveling, trying to hold onto it invariably precedes letting go. I was holding on for dear life as my romance with long-distance love Mark (a.k.a Sparky) came apart.

Like every encounter before it, my post-graduation visit to see Sparky in L.A. started out joyfully. As we headed to Sin City, it almost felt like we could keep our growing differences at bay. I now Open The Vault and take you back to the summer of 1995...

June 5th, 1995
Las Vegas, NV

Dear Diary,

This morning, Mark shared his latest communication with his nutty ex-girlfriend. She called him to bail her out of jail and he ended up going down to the station with her father.

He asked me what I thought about this. I flatly said I didn’t feel he should have anything to do with her, and resented this umpteenth reference to his ex. The green-eyed monster of jealousy can be pretty fierce sometimes.

* * *

The five-hour drive to Las Vegas was fun. Sparky impressed me with his knowledge about California history and geography, and I was relieved that we weren’t driving each other crazy.

The Mirage: Sparky and I stayed here during our ill-fated trip to Vegas

At one point, Mark cued up the soundtrack from “Somewhere In Time,” which he worked on as a sound producer. We were both silent, absorbed in the music. I looked out the window, remembering tearfully the time we’d listened to it when Sparky came to see me in London. I thought about the obstacles facing us, fearing there was trouble ahead.

* * *

While we were checking into the Mirage, Mark said the $5 tip I gave our bellman was too generous. I was more than a little peeved -- especially because Mark had gotten on my case earlier about $30 I spent (also of my own money) at the drugstore.

* * *

Up in our room, with strawberry Snapple and vodka cocktails in hand, I put on a little Gloria Estefan and we danced real close, falling onto the bed as the alcohol went to our heads.

Not wanting to miss the afternoon sun, we went down to the hot tub. Sparky talked at length about the geography of our situation. He said he’s not going to get attached to anyone else. Caught up in his love, I said--

“You know -- I could stay.”

“Not yet,” he answered warmly, “It’s too soon,” whereupon he said he’s in no hurry and that he can wait.

We hugged and kissed. Swimming in thoughts of both our potential future and joyful present, I looked up at the sky. Every inch of me felt at peace.

* * *

My peace was short lived, as the difficulties of our situation and 16-year age difference began to escalate. Sparky and I would soon discover that our love was no longer enough to get past it all.