I grew up in Los Angeles a hopeless romantic with my head completely tilted towards the sky and a replica of “Romeo and Juliet” worn from rereading. I devoured that e-book far too younger and believed in it far too earnestly. Soulmates weren’t simply an concept — they had been a promise. I believed in love that defied cause and timing, in glances throughout rooms that modified the course of your life, in poetry etched into each heartbeat.
However by 21, the fairy story had began to crack. A traumatic expertise with a person I had trusted shattered my sense of security and need. For 3 years, I withdrew from relationship totally. I informed individuals I used to be “focusing on myself,” which was true partly, nevertheless it was additionally a protect. I used to be afraid — afraid of being seen, of being needed, of wanting again. I felt like a locked door that I didn’t even bear in mind the best way to open.
Nonetheless, regardless of how deeply I buried it, I couldn’t cease craving the very factor I feared most: love. The actual sort. The sweeping, soul-consuming sort I had at all times dreamed of. The sort that felt like coming residence.
Then I moved into an actors’ home in Los Feliz — a phenomenal sort of chaos solely L.A. may produce. 4 roommates, every chasing a distinct dream, all of us messy, artistic and attempting to make one thing of ourselves. One in every of them had simply arrived from Australia. I nonetheless bear in mind the primary time I noticed him — tall, sun-kissed pores and skin, darkish golden curls, movie-star smile and a voice that made every thing sound like a love tune. Even “pass the almond milk” felt flirtatious coming from him.
He had that magnetic vitality — the type that makes you flip your head in a crowded room with out even understanding why. He was already well-known again residence, however right here he was ranging from scratch. That vulnerability, blended along with his allure, made him not possible to not discover. I didn’t simply discover. I used to be drawn in like a tide to the moon.
We began spending time collectively, at first simply casually, however then always. Hikes via Griffith Park, conversations that began over espresso and lasted till 2 a.m. within the kitchen. Walks via Silver Lake the place our arms brushed simply barely too lengthy. He listened intently. He remembered little particulars I’d mentioned in passing. He checked out me like I used to be a narrative he needed to learn slowly.
And someplace in the midst of all of that, I began to really feel it — these comfortable, fluttering butterflies that made it onerous to breathe round him. The sort of feeling I believed I’d misplaced without end. I’d catch myself looking at him, not even attempting to cover it. My coronary heart would do that little skip when he laughed at my jokes or checked out me too lengthy. I began to surprise: Is that this it? May he be the one?
I couldn’t even see different guys anymore. He had warped my radar. Each tune jogged my memory of him. My thoughts raced forward, imagining a future that didn’t even exist but — a montage of quiet mornings, lengthy walks, perhaps even shifting again to Australia with him. It was fully unhinged and but felt undeniably actual.
One night time, we had been sitting on the sofa after everybody else had gone to mattress. A film performed softly within the background, one thing neither of us had been actually watching. There was a protracted silence — not awkward, simply full — after which he turned to me, his eyes looking out mine.
“I really like you,” he mentioned, barely above a whisper.
I felt my coronary heart seize up. I didn’t transfer. I didn’t breathe.
He leaned in slowly, giving me time to fulfill him midway.
However I couldn’t. I froze.
Simply earlier than our lips touched, I gently pulled again and regarded away.
“Sorry,” I mentioned, barely audible.
He paused for a second, then gave me the softest smile. “It’s OK,” he mentioned with out lacking a beat. “No pressure, all right? Let’s just pretend that didn’t happen.”
And similar to that, we moved on. No awkwardness. No strain. He dealt with it with such grace that, if something, I appreciated him extra. It felt like affirmation that he actually noticed me — not simply as somebody to beat, however somebody price being affected person with.
However a number of days later, the shine began to fade.
We had been sitting on the again steps one afternoon when he talked about, virtually in passing, “There’s something I should probably tell you. I have a girlfriend.”
I blinked. “Wait … what?”
“She lives in Germany,” he mentioned, voice quiet. “It’s been four years. We’ve been long-distance for a while. It’s kind of on the rocks, but … we’re still technically together.”
Technically.
I felt the underside drop out of my chest. My thoughts scrambled to attach dots, rearranging each candy second underneath this new mild.
I attempted to course of it, however I wasn’t indignant — not but. Simply shocked. Numb. I nodded, mentioned one thing like, “Thanks for telling me,” and excused myself to my room.
However then the nights began to alter.
At first, I believed I used to be imagining it. However after that dialog, the vitality in the home shifted. Virtually each night time, I’d hear new voices. Laughter. Generally flirtatious whispers within the hallway. One night time, I handed a woman within the kitchen making toast at 1 a.m. in his hoodie. She smiled politely. I didn’t ask questions.
It turned a sample. A distinct woman, virtually each night time. He’d meet them on Raya or Tinder. Stunning, charismatic girls, most of them aspiring actors or fashions. I by no means heard him brag about it. He wasn’t showy. But it surely was unmistakable — he was spiraling into one thing.
And I couldn’t cease watching.
A part of me was devastated, although I had no declare to him. I’d been imagining a future. I had began to imagine he was my soulmate. However this wasn’t what soulmates did. Soulmates didn’t deal with individuals like rotating doorways.
Ultimately, throughout one in every of our uncommon quiet nights alone, I introduced it up.
“Hey,” I mentioned gently. “Are you OK?”
He paused, looking at his arms. Then, with stunning openness, he admitted, “I think I have a problem.”
He defined that intercourse was like a compulsion for him. That he’d been utilizing it to deal with nervousness, loneliness, the chaos of this metropolis. That it made him really feel higher — for a second. However by no means for lengthy. He regarded up at me, eyes uncooked.
“I’m trying to get a handle on it,” he mentioned. “But it’s hard.”
I sat beside him, silent. Not judging. Simply listening.
He wasn’t merciless. Simply deeply misplaced. One of many many individuals on this metropolis chasing one thing they couldn’t fairly identify. He needed to be cherished, similar to me. He simply didn’t know the best way to be secure with it.
I used to be relieved we hadn’t crossed that line. That I’d saved one piece of myself intact. But it surely additionally marked one thing remaining. The second I finished critically contemplating relationship a person in Los Angeles.
I nonetheless love this metropolis. I nonetheless take the identical walks. Nonetheless linger in cafes, hoping for one thing comfortable and honest to chop via the noise. However I don’t fall for fantasies anymore, particularly not the type wrapped in accents and charisma.
The charming, sex-addicted Australian man? He’s nonetheless one in every of my closest associates. We by no means kissed. We by no means even talked about it a lot.
Experiencing romance is undoubtedly one of many finer issues in life, nevertheless it’s not at all times essentially the most fulfilling. Soulmates present up in lots of types, and typically the realest love one will expertise is with a canine or a member of the family or a platonic good friend and that’s OK. All love is nice love.
The writer is an actor and author residing in Los Angeles. She grew up within the metropolis, nonetheless believes in love (typically) and takes too many lengthy walks via Silver Lake and Los Feliz.
