So it all started with these wonderful little adventures, these weekend trysts that were an escape from mundane reality for both of us.
We got to go on with our busy lives, full of their own distractions and intrigues, dreaming up these safe spaces together where we could become different versions of ourselves for a while, away from the everyday, and just make out on the Ferris Wheel without a single care in the world.
And dreaming them up was half the fun... I loved planning those trips, and thinking about when I would see you next, flirting for weeks on end during the buildup, anticipation ramping up as the days got closer. I have never been so wrapped up in someone, so full of anticipation to see you, as I've been before every time we met.
And I know you were caught up in it all too, because when we got together, well, sparks flew, and each trip seemed to pull us further in.
Still, those spaces we dreamed up were just that, dreams; places where we became other people than our everyday selves, with our everyday obligations, our everyday responsibilities to all of the other people that claim us, our lives, and our time.
And then my life changed, but yours didn't, and when we tried to make the pieces fit together, I guess it was just too much for you.
It turned out we were a bit like a carefully tended store-bought orchid, going from a lush tropical greenhouse to a tiny little plastic tray on the florist's shelf at Safeway: the flower might make it, but things will by definition be touch and go for awhile, and take a lot of patience, some careful watering, and a whole lot of luck.
And whether it was a lack of luck, care, patience, or all three, I guess our little orchid didn't make it.