Happy Valentine's Day

This is an excerpt from Chapter 32 of 2.0 You are awesome!

Another week and another spiral of are we or aren’t we. All week we teetered back and forth. We saw each other and kissed. We saw each other and didn’t. She cooked me dinner and it was flirty, but kissing was off-limits because Ramona, her roommate, was in the next room. Ramona would never have known if we kept to Steph’s bedroom but my attempt to woo her and lure her away was met with a stiffness in her body and a constant look in the direction of Ramona’s door. I was frustrated. I couldn’t turn my feelings off and on based on who was nearby.

Steph had a quick overnight business trip to Alabama planned, and the departure date happened to be Valentine’s Day. I knew being too mushy would set her off, so I tried to keep it light. That morning, just before she left, I sent a careful message:

Guten Morgen Steph,

I tried to write something profound, but it’s harder than I expected. I don’t know if you put much stock in holidays like Valentine’s Day. I generally think we should tell people how we feel and not wait for a certain day. Since we may not see each other for a few days, I wanted you to know how special you are to me and how much I love spending time with you. Have a fantastic trip to Alabama, and we’ll talk soon.

She responded that she had never really thought about the holiday before because she’d never had a reason to. She said I meant a lot to her too. She sent a few more texts throughout the day, but strangely there was no goodnight message. Then no good morning message. And then nothing until the next day at four in the afternoon. A few random texts about music and TV, then silence.

I texted to ask if she had gotten home safely. She said she had, but hadn’t bothered to tell me. It all felt off.

“Do we need to have a serious conversation, Steph?” I asked, already knowing the answer.

“I think so,” she replied.

“Is this a phone call or an in-person conversation?”

“I would prefer in person. I can come over. I’ll see you in twenty.”

Twenty minutes later she was at my door. She tried a bit of small talk before I asked her to get right to it. I was ready to hear that it was over.

She said she didn’t think it was working and that we would be better off as friends. I stayed calm at first, accepting her decision. I told her we had outrageous chemistry, but she was always fighting against the good moments. Then I confronted her about Jason. I told her I knew she had seen him.

She admitted she had, but insisted nothing happened and that she wasn’t dating him, just “seeing if he wanted to be friends.” The conversation turned combative. She thought this was fine. Her right. Her freedom to meet people and make friends.

I felt confused about what was in her head and what she thought wasn’t working. She kept saying I deserved better, but what if I didn’t want better? What if I wanted this to work? Then I heard myself trying too hard. I didn’t like this version of me, the one convincing her we needed each other. It was too intense for Steph.

She asked me to stay in her life. She didn’t want to lose me as a friend. We had grown so close that she couldn’t imagine living in Atlanta without me in it. I wanted that too, but I had never been friends with an ex before.

By that point we were both crying, and Steph left. She couldn’t handle us not getting along. It was rare for us to fight. We weren’t always on the same page about what we wanted, but we had always gotten along.

I cried heavy tears into my pillow, reminiscent of my first night in the apartment. So much pain in such a short amount of time. I couldn’t figure out why losing Steph hurt so much. I dozed off for a couple of hours, then woke even more heartbroken, cortisol racing through my veins.

In emotional weakness, I texted Steph. I told her I was sad. That I would miss her. That she had been very hard on herself the night before and that wasn’t how I saw her. I comforted her.

She broke my heart, and I comforted her.

Steph texted. Thanked me for the message. She said she would reach out again after kickboxing. She did. She called. We spoke in the softest voices, full of sorrow. It was hard to hear her struggle. We were calm and still deeply connected.

The sun was shining, and I didn't want to be inside. I needed to get away. I took a shower and called Ryan.

“I’m going to get a tattoo.”

“Jennifer, no. You can’t get a tattoo every time you’re mad at her.”

“Of course I can. The last one made me feel better. This one will too.”

And just like that, I drove off.

I knew exactly what I was getting: a nod to the photography that had once been such a big part of my life, a viewfinder symbol reminding me to stay focused. And a small nod to my desire to love and be loved, a heart on my finger.

Steph texted again. “Are you still walking?”

“No, I’m doing a thing.”

“Getting high on your balcony?” She knew my vice, but this was different. This felt a little more dangerous.

“At Only You. Just waiting for my turn.”

“Oh. Okay. Let me know when you’re done.”

I updated her throughout the process because I still felt connected to her. And when I paid and stepped outside, Steph was there, waiting for me with aftercare cream to protect my tattoo.

Are you kidding me?

It was the sweetest gesture. The kind of thing no one had ever done for me. Ever. I smiled so fucking big.

She seemed nervous. But I barely noticed. I was looking at how beautiful she was. I loved that denim jacket on her.

We hugged and sat on a bench for a while. She asked if I wanted to go for a walk. It couldn’t hurt. My adrenaline had returned.

We walked through Grant Park to The Beacon, where the Mexican restaurant was calling our names. She suggested we get something to eat. Of course neither of us had eaten all day, and now we were drifting into dinner.

We sat among couples celebrating the first weekend since Valentine’s Day. It felt a little ironic since I learned my message to her had felt overwhelming, like we were too serious. All of the careful consideration I gave to that simple message and it was too much. However, her surprising me after my tattoo? Bringing me cream? And taking me to dinner? That wasn’t too much. This woman was so complex!

We talked easily, recounting the hours since we’d last seen each other. She told me she had talked to her best friend in Switzerland, presumably for guidance on the breakup. This was new territory for Steph. Weirdly, it felt like the first time for me too. Maybe the woman-to-woman connection ran deeper. Maybe it was Steph’s energy. Maybe it was my fear of losing that sense of a full life I had grown used to in her presence.

At the end of the night, we hugged, said goodbye, and drove our separate ways home.

It was the most romantic non-date I had ever had.