Opening The Vault: Part Thirty Nine

Much as I’ve tried not to, I have invariably compared Mr. Right For Now to the men who have preceded him. A 1996 weekend getaway to Delaware with my then-beau Larry found me doing exactly that.

Broadkill Beach: This Delaware hamlet was where Larry and I spent our first getaway together

Having endured plenty of highway drama with my California-based ex Mark (a.k.a. Sparky), I was more than a little anxious about my first road trip with Larry. As it turned out, I had nothing to worry about -- apart from Sparky’s lingering ghost. I now Open The Vault and take you back to Independence Day of ‘96...

July 4th ,1996
Broadkill Beach, DE

Dear Diary,
Larry and I drove down here this morning. Much to my surprise, our four hours on the road flew by.

During our journey, Larry confided more about his colorful past, namely how he kept himself afloat financially after his father’s death when he was 16. It included stealing from a store he worked at.

I could feel my sense of propriety flare up. Immediately, I caught myself, looked out the window and took a deep breath.

It doesn’t matter, I reminded myself, you’re not going to marry him.

With Sparky, I treated every example of our different upbringings as a catastrophe of epic proportions. I loved him so much that it pained me to know we weren’t compatible, a pain exacerbated by his ability to properly address our problems.

Unlike Sparky, Larry listens to whatever frustrations I feel and try to cease the bothersome habit (e.g. provocative pillow talk). Considering he’s been a part of my life for nearly six months now, I have reached this wonderful comfort zone with him. But, of course, we’ve been together on a regular basis -- a luxury that Sparky and I never had.

When the Eagles’ song “Love Will Keep Us Alive” came on the radio, I couldn’t help wondering how vacations with Sparky might have been different had they been supplemented by a normal relationship.

Our differences notwithstanding, how could I feel anything but self-conscious and insecure during our trips? I felt the tremendous pressure of trying to compress the months we were apart into one isolated holiday.

Still, it seems like another lifetime ago that we were blissfully in love. I was a different person then. I’m more of a woman now -- I only wish Sparky could see that.

* * *

As I tried to convince myself Sparky was in the past, Larry and I were approaching a milestone of sorts. The occasion would prompt me to wonder if it was time to say goodbye.

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.