With a twinkle in his eye and a heavy note in his voice, David told me he was single. We had met about 5 minutes before at a coffee shop in Alaska. David offered to show me some sights and I couldn’t resist getting to know him.
I was confused; despite his depressive energy, David held the curiosity of a child. We got into his purple punch buggy (a girl magnet, he called it) and started off. We drove through overpowering, snow-covered cliffs on one side, a deep, frozen lake on the other, and watched as the shiny sun filtered in between the snowflakes. The air was heavy as David poured his heart out.
Born into an ultra-religious home, he followed his parents’ path and became a pastor. Marrying young, David tried to love the woman he thought he was destined for. After 40 years of pain, searching, and failure, David got a divorce and shed his religion at the same time.
When we met, he was 65 years old, fresh in the dating game, and hadn’t a clue how to play.
I’m not sure why we connected so deeply. Maybe it was the remote surroundings that brought us close, our similar upbringings, or our recent breakups.
David said he met women at coffee shops, at bars, and he even set up a dating profile online. One after another, the relationships fizzled, women ghosted him, or things just didn’t work out.
But it was his last heartbreak that broke him.
Sara was a teacher like him. They were friends for years. After David’s divorce, they started spending more time together. Dinners, movies, those kinds of times. So when Sara asked David to house-sit on her vacation, he naturally agreed.
Sara’s house was on the beach. Every morning, David would take a walk on the sand and search for heart-shaped stones. With his pockets stuffed, he would head home and add it to the growing collection.
After 2 weeks of his daily searches for heart-shaped stones, Sara came back. Barely a hello left her lips when David pulled her into her living room, and wordlessly dumped the bucket of heart-shaped stones on the floor.
“I like you. Can I take you out?” He tenderly asked.
She panicked. Sara told David to get out - that his actions were creepy and she didn’t share the same feelings.
Squished in the passenger seat of his punch buggy, I suddenly understood the heavy note in David’s voice.
“Nobody wants my love. I’m done giving it.” David told me plainly. “I tried to love my wife, I try to love the women I meet, what’s the point?”
It was dark when David dropped me off. I wished him luck and lots of love. The pain of unrequited love was familiar to me. I hoped he would change his mind one day. Withholding love couldn’t possibly be the key to finding it.
Sad story, but that last line is one hell of a finish and useful reminder to everyone.
Always love your stories. I felt like I was in the car riding with you.