subject line: here's to the fools who dream



There’s often a fine line between what feels real and what IS real. At least that’s what I’ve been telling myself. For a month I’ve tried to convince myself that we weren’t real; that what we had wasn’t real. That the week we spent together was a hazy, blissful fog of beauty and emotions. A magical dream.

We both swiped right, and I soon discovered that you were 2 hours away from me, for work, for the next week. We messaged non stop for 4 hours that first night on Bumble and the connection was so great, I knew I had to meet you, regardless of the fact that you were only around for a week.
We met the next day, and spent 7 hours talking on that first date. You’re highly creative, and you sparked my creativity in a way no one else has. We could’ve talked all night, but I had to be up early the next day.
It was chilly outside, but you kissed me until I was breathless in the parking lot before driving back the 2 hours to where you were staying.
That week, you spent 20 hours total in your car, driving to see me, 4 hours round trip. I spent 4 hours total in my car, driving to you.
For 7 short days, we were inseparable. And then your work trip ended. You left to go back across the country. And I felt empty inside. In one short week, you turned my world completely upside down, for the better.
You are the best cuddler I’ve ever met, and we could never get enough of talking to each other for hours. I haven’t laughed until I cried since that week with you. The laughter, the joy, the intimacy; it was all so unexpected yet therapeutic for me.
I’m still attempting to comprehend how I felt such a deep, meaningful connection with someone in such a short amount of time.
We both said that ours was the kind of tender love affair that movies are made of. The fact that it only lasted a week lends an even more surreal quality to it.
Yet, here we are, living across the county from each other. Talking daily and constantly comparing our new Bumble dates to each other. And feeling disappointed.
It all feels like some kind of twisted reality. That we are both doomed to tragically know our ideal match is out there, living at a distance, as we each try to date others in our respective hometowns.
We joke often about running away to Chile together and enjoying a carefree life there.

You travel for work, and we’ve both said that the dynamics of a long distance relationship don’t appeal to either of us at the moment.
Yet our existence together was effortless. I felt like I had known you my entire life, and I couldn’t get enough of you in every single, possible way.

Neither of us can seem to replicate what we shared that week. Truthfully, I’m not sure I will be able to replicate it with anyone else. I’d never experienced it before that week with you. You said that you haven’t either. That’s part of why it doesn’t seem real.

Together, we watched the movie “La La Land” while you were here. We still talk about that movie, and how Emma Stone’s character ends up with a boring, steady, regular guy at the end of the movie, and not with Ryan Gosling’s passionate, creative, artistic character.
We wonder out loud if we will each end up with boring, everyday partners, and not someone who deeply, passionately connects with us on every level the way we connected with each other.
Today we talked about letting each other fade away into a distant memory, to make it easier for us both to date others. I’m trying to date, so that does make sense. But I’ve been so incredibly sad thinking about letting go. Part of me feels that by letting go, I’m giving up my chance for real, deeply moving, all consuming love.

Thank you for renewing my faith in the existence of a magical type of love. I will move forward, but I know that you are everything I want in a partner, and I’m scared that I won’t find or feel that for anyone else again. My heart aches to experience even a fraction of the happiness we shared that week.

So, if you find this email, please know that part of my heart is still completely enchanted by you. And, in my entire 35 years, no one else compares to the magic you made me feel in our short week together.