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.

The Relationship Deadline Dilemma

Not too long ago, a newly-30 friend of mine, A, told me about the impass at which she’s arrived with her twenty-something boyfriend of one year. He’s gearing up for grad school out of state, uncertain if he’s ready to settle down. She’s wondering how long to hold out for the promise of a long-term commitment.

When she said they’ve decided to see what happens in six months, I couldn’t help thinking about my own experience with make or break dating deadlines.

Having spent most of my twenties lingering in relationships well past their expiration date, I was anxious to break that bad habit as the big 3-0 loomed closer. Though I’ve had plenty of practice at saying goodbye -- having initiated 6 of the 7 major breakups I’ve been through -- I needed a better exit strategy. I latched onto one suggested to me seven years ago by my then-boyfriend.

St. Louis' Lambert International Airport: It was here back in 2001 that a new long-distance love told me his make or break theory about relationships

During an airport goodbye, he shared his simple rule about the trajectory that a relationship should follow. At six months, he said, a relationship either gets serious or it doesn’t, i.e., you end it. It seemed like the perfect one size fits all answer to the inevitable dating conundrum, should I stay or should I go?

The six-month make or break theory helped liberate me from a stifling entanglement with a clingy British guy. I said sayonara after five months. It had a much more complicated impact on my relationship with S, a canine-obsessed New Yorker I met on Match.com.

Panicking as irreconcilable differences emerged between us, I opted not to tell S my fears. I abruptly broke up with him exactly six months after we started seeing each other. Though my doubts about S ultimately proved to be well-founded, I regret bolting the way that I did. We reconciled, but our relationship was so damaged that it was never the same.

That experience made me realize how make or break deadlines, while necessary at times, can take on a life of their own. When you’re in your thirties and still single, it becomes more difficult to find that happy medium between being comfortable and drawing a line in the sand about where a relationship is heading.

As my friend A is currently asking herself, how do you know when to have that conversation and when to move on if happily ever after isn’t in the cards? It turns out there is no one size fits all answer to that question.

What I’ve learned is to pay more attention to what’s happening in a relationship now instead of fixating on an arbitrary deadline. Because it’s a lot easier to figure out what your future is when you’re fully inhabiting the journey it takes to get there.