March 23, 2020
March 23, to most people, is just another day. It doesn’t hold any significant value to the general public. But it was a day I gave meaning to during the brighter days of summer circa 2019 when the days were warm, and everything seemed possible. Except, the sun would rise and set as March 23 would come and go.
The possibility of anything happening was so great during those summer days that I hadn’t even considered that a pandemic would spread like wildfire across the globe. Suddenly, hoping that my one-night stand, turned two-night stand, might reemerge to profess his love to me didn’t seem nearly as crazy as what was occurring. I dreamed of love. Instead, the Earth struck at our chests and infected the air with fear.
November 2018
Like a moth to a fluorescent light, I was drawn to him the minute I laid eyes on him. He was tall with James Dean hair and an amazing smile that bore crooked teeth. I had to find a way to talk to him. Although I was too awkward to approach, so I enlisted the help of a friend. Without hesitation, she’d tap him on the shoulder, point over to me and walk away without a single word. Leaving us staring at each other in a state of confusion.
“Was she going to say something?” he asked.
“I think she was trying to help me out.” I nervously shrugged.
He smiled and asked if I wanted a drink at the bar. Our friends would go to their individual homes and leave us behind. We’d get to know each other as we drank vodka presses and talked shit to each other(my drunk love language). Soon we’d be hopping into an Uber headed to his place at the top of Mount Soledad. Wicked Game would play over the stereo, and we’d sing to each other as though either one of us could hold a key. We’d get to his place, jump in the hot tub as the city lights sparkled below us.
All the shine and sparkle of the night disappearing in the morning light. What appears like two people forming a connection quickly regresses to two strangers lying naked in front of each other like a carriage transforming into a pumpkin at the stroke of midnight.
I respect the boundaries of a one-night stand, so I wasn’t really expecting to see him again. Although his crooked smile glued itself to the crevices of my mind, it played on a loop like a song lyric I couldn’t get rid of. As luck would have it, I’d see him again.
December 2018
It was my 31st birthday, and I was two sheets to the wind when I spotted him at the bar I was celebrating. He was a flame, and I was a moth, once again. I approached him like a ball of yarn coming undone as it rolls across the floor. I don’t remember much of that night, but embarrassing moments tend to pierce through the brain fog to haunt me forever. Apparently, I thought it would be a good idea to tell him that I thought the sex was awkward in order to suggest that we should try again. Yeah, I went home alone that night. I was certain I’d never redeem myself. But the universe had other plans.
August 2019
I’m sitting at another bar talking about the guy with the smile I can’t seem to get out of my head, no matter how insignificant I know our time together was and how much time had passed. I tell the story about my friend tapping his shoulder, the hot tub overlooking the city lights and the drunk encounter after. I tell the story with so much enthusiasm that my friend seems almost as excited to hear it as I do telling it. And just as I complete it, he walks into the same bar. His presence shocks me, and all the blood drains from my face.
Another chance. But I’m too embarrassed from the last encounter to move, so I sit and hope he notices me first. Finally, I grow impatient, and I pretend like I’m going to use the restroom. I was sure he’d be weird and standoffish, but when he saw me, he smiled. That smile with the crooked teeth that makes me swoon. Once again, our friends leave for home, and we stay behind to drink vodka presses and dance at the bar next door. We’d ride double on a scooter back to my place and spend the night together. Except this time, he’d come back two weeks later to take me on a date. It was like a dream come true. He picked me up on his motorcycle, and we coasted along the ocean as the sun disappeared beyond the horizon. However, when he dropped me off, I knew the story would end there. That is until the idea of March 23 fueled the flames of hope.
September 2019
I sat cross-legged on a patch of grass that stretched onto the calming waters of Mission Bay, telling two of my favorite people about the boy and the motorcycle and the persistent feeling that he wouldn’t be taking me out again.
In an attempt to help soothe my disappointment, my friend came up with a strategy. She said, “Pick a day, any day. But it must be far enough in the future where you won’t think about it every day.”
I said, “March 23.”
She said, “Ok, so on March 23, you’ll hear from him. Until then, it doesn’t matter if you haven’t talked to him because you two aren’t meant to be yet until March 23.”
She didn’t really think this guy would reappear on some random date several months in the future. She figured that by making him a future possibility, I’d stop waiting for a text at that moment, and eventually, I’d forget about him altogether.
March 23, 2020
Well, March 23 rolled around, and I didn’t forget. I’d be lying if I didn’t say that somehow in the pit of my delusions, I wasn’t hoping for a bit of magic that day. Except the year was 2020, and hope was locked away and told to stay home.
It wasn’t the outcome I had hoped for, but life hardly ever goes according to plan. Love may not always arrive when you want it, but rest assured it will arrive on time. Sometimes the only thing we can do is keep the hope alive. That’s what my one-night stand represented. What March 23 means to me. It was never about the boy or the day itself. It was about feeling something. About the potential of something happening. About being curious enough to keep moving in hopes of finding it. Every year on March 23, I still get excited to see what the day might bring. Maybe nothing. But maybe your whole life changes in an instant or at the flash of a smile.
So, pick a day, any day. You never know what could be transpiring right now, at this very moment.
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