Ah, Christmas in LA. Summer sunshine, eighty degree weather, pool parties decorated with Christmas trees…expecting the stereotypical winter wonderland is like looking for meaning in a Jim Carey movie; even though you know you won’t find it, you foolishly find yourself expecting it to happen.
Aiden had decided to go back to the midwest to see family. Jack was spending the holiday with some friends, while I had committed to head to San Diego to visit family members whom I hadn’t seen in a while.
It had been a month since Aiden and I had gone on our 11/11 date. He had set up a special evening on November 11th (11/11) because of our special time, where we had a really nice dinner and spent quality time together, enjoying each other’s company in a blissfully happy way that seemed too good to be true. It was perfect.
However, in the following weeks, things had become a bit distant between Aiden and I. We weren’t spending as much time together and the less I saw of him, the more I missed him. After things with Jack didn’t turn out the way I anticipated nor wanted, I had my guard up about meeting new people. Even though Aiden was the perfect person to throw myself into because of how genuine and supportive he was, I was reticent to dive in full-force because I was scared; I didn’t want a repeat situation of what Jack and I had. I didn’t want to admit it, but deep down I knew it was taking a toll on my relationship with Aiden.
However, the distance from Aiden gave me the time I needed to think. And the more I thought, the more I realized I was really starting to like him on an even deeper level than I had before. Even if I wasn’t one hundred percent give all of myself to him because of this innate fear inside of me, I knew that losing him would be even worse. I knew I had to get him back.
In an effort to make a romantic gesture to show him how much he meant to me, I contacted a friend of his I had never met for some insight into restaurants he liked to frequent back in his hometown. I set up a day-date for he and his Mom to go on while he was home visiting and he and I went to lunch before he left for the holiday. I kinda poured my feelings out to him and told him that I was willing to compromise to make this thing between us work, to take it to the next level. He said he needed time, understandably, and I wished him the best on his long journey home.
Christmas Day came and went; I opened presents with my family before heading back to Los Angeles. I sent Jack a text to see how his Christmas went and to invite him over for some company, but he admitted he didn’t feel like making the drive to my house. Sad and feeling lonely, I crawled into my warm bed, my first Christmas by myself, and realized that no matter what way you looked at it, nothing ever goes according to plan. No matter how deeply you may want something, it’s impossible to control every situation to your liking.
Maybe love is like a picnic. No matter how perfectly you pack it, there are always ants. There’s always something that doesn’t work out, or a misfortune that occurs that you don’t foresee, that ends up throwing the perfect meal you thought you’d have into disarray. And for an idealist like me, when the reality of life hits instead of the dream I always see happening instead, it can be an all-too-crushing reminder that we’re never in control.