by Max Monroe
A demand.
That you meet me for an outing immediately, no matter the extent of your other plans.
I knew it was a big ask, and my newly reformed ways insured I looked out for your interests just as much as mine.
That meant I had to come up with something big. Something ridiculous. Something over the top and unforgettable.
And that, my love, took us to a fashion show.
I know it was a highlight for you, but I’d be faking it if I pretended I could even talk about that bloody thing for one minute, knowing what comes after.
I didn’t know it was coming after it then—I feel that’s important to note. As much as I spent my time thinking about sex with you, I was not expecting it. I know I’m a dog, and I know I’m a liar, and I know I’m a fuck-up a lot of the time…but I never would have pressured you into anything that wasn’t right for both of us.
Which is, of course, the point.
It’s the reason the sex was so good. It’s the reason even you, hurt by my actions and disillusioned by what everything between us became, can’t regret it.
Because substantial, life-changing moments like the one we shared that night aren’t ever the ones to regret.
[pauses]
Hearing you say you didn’t regret that night, the next morning in the fresh light of day, and now, when things have turned and twisted and settled into the bottomless pit of disaster…is the reason I had the courage to do this at all.
It’s the reason it seemed worth it, and it’s the reason I thought there might be some kind of hope.
It was the best night of my life, and it will be forever, Lucky.
The sex was more than skin and moans. The sex was more than thrusts and orgasms.
The sex was everything.
The kind of everything that doesn’t fade. So I’ll keep fighting for it for as long as you’ll let me, Lucky.
And I can tell you this with absolute certainty—I’ll be fighting because of the sex.
Not because of the utterly mind-blowing physicality of it, but because of the undeniable way it made me feel.
You make me feel.
* * *
Episode 14: The Twist
Falling to the Bottom
Hello, past.
How absolutely horrible to see you.
It’s funny how when we first got together, I thought it would be your past that got in the way of our relationship working.
Naïvely, so naïvely, I never dreamed it would be mine.
Sure, I’d been promiscuous and commitment-phobic, but as far as I was concerned, that was every man until they met the woman who changed it all.
I mean, that’s the way of most romance stories, the tale as old as time, the hurdle to get over to achieve happiness.
At least, I thought it was.
But I hadn’t considered Amelia Erickson.
Ridiculous of me, I know, from your point of view…but…
Well, love, there’s a whole lot more to the Amelia Erickson story than I imagine you’re prepared for.
There are details no one has ever heard—including those closest to me—and it’s only with Amelia’s permission that I’m sharing the details now…or a little while from now.
I think it’ll be best if I start by, first, addressing the events as you know them. And then…I’ll go back to the beginning. To before I knew you.
The day after we were together, when I left you to head to your interview and me to yet another business meeting, I had no idea you were taking a one-way trip into my past.
If I had, I might have warned you…told you the truth about Amelia and me and the whole sordid tale.
I’d like to think I would have, anyway. The truth is, I’m not sure. And I probably won’t ever be.
Regardless, you left that interview with hurt feelings and a guarded heart. You were closed off and angry—for good reason—and the last thing you wanted was a confrontation with me.
I, however, was a man in love. I was desperate to get back to you, desperate to have more of what we’d had—desperate for you.
When you shut me out that day, without all of the information…I thought it was a game.
I hate the reality of how much it wasn’t, but the truth is, I thought you were playing with me.
Hard to get. Hard to love. Hard to hold on to.
Your relationships of past were legend, and to me, I was the next in a line of men who would go down chasing their tails…unless I did something about it.
Fought back, so to speak.
So, brilliant plan that it was, I did.
The following day, when you’d turned yourself around despite what you thought I’d kept from you, I turned down your dinner invitation.
I did have dinner meetings, but I assure you, as I’ve proven to you time and time again throughout this story, I wasn’t the kind of businessman who wouldn’t play hooky on that shit for the chance to spend the time with the woman he was in love with.
[sighs]
I’ve relived this decision time and time again since we went our separate ways, and no matter how hard I try, I can’t figure out if this would have changed our outcome or not.
If I’d just done away with the games…if I’d just canceled my meetings and had dinner with you, Lucky, would we have made it to the other side without all of this heartbreak?
Would you have given me the chance to explain?
Would I have taken the opportunity and done it fully?
I just don’t know. I don’t know the answers to any of it, and I doubt you have any more clue than I do.
All I can do is apologize for taking us even further down a muddy road of both of our making. I wish it’d happened differently, if only to save you from yet another ex-boyfriend you had to address.
[distinct pause]
Anyway…it’s clear from your podcast that you saw me that night with Amelia. It’s clear that you thought I’d met up with her on purpose. It’s clear that you thought I’d knowingly hidden a piece of my past from you, and I want you to know, I can’t even imagine how ugly all of those together felt.
But the truth of it is, I’d run into Amelia by chance, after the conclusion of one business meeting and before another, and the way we greeted each other was exactly as it seemed.
It was friendly. It was personal. It was excited.
I love Amelia.
[laughs]
Yeah, not that way. Not the way you think. And certainly, not the way I love you.
But I do love her. I love Amelia like a brother loves a sister, or like one best friend loves another.
What’s the secret to that kind of affection with an ex?
Well…a sham engagement.
[laughs]
Amelia Erickson is the woman I never would have married, no matter how many people expected I would.
Amelia Erickson is the woman the world thought I’d fallen for.
Amelia Erickson is gay.
[pauses and sighs]
It’s so ridiculous that I even have to give that as a qualifier. She’s a badass surfer, a badass woman, and a badass friend. But until…well, now, I guess…she’s been the one from whom Oliver Arsen got away, and I know, thanks to society’s hunger for a drama-filled narrative, that will never end, not without setting the record straight.
There were hundreds of rumors about the reason we broke up…hell, I can’t even remember half of them, but I know a ton of them pointed the finger at me.
The player. The guy who couldn’t slow down.
Without getting too far into the details of Amelia’s past, when we’d faked a more-than-friends relationship, and then, an engagement, it had been because Amelia had needed that. She wasn’t ready for the media to get involved in the personal details of her life, and trust me, at that point in time, they were fucking trying. With her surfing star rising like a rocket to the top, they were hounding her for anything and everything they could get.
And she’d needed something to take th
e heat off herself. Take the spotlight away from her personal life, one she’d wanted to keep private.
I have to start first by saying that I’m happy it was that way. Amelia had more than enough on her plate, and I didn’t. I had a carefree lifestyle, and being pegged as the kind of guy who would run out on a fiancée didn’t even start to bother me.
[laughs]
Until now, obviously.
So, thanks, Amelia, for not only giving me permission to speak for you today, but for your friendship. It’s time you got to show everyone who you really are.
An amazing friend, an amazing woman, and an amazing surfer.
The kind of amazing friend who sacrifices her own truth so that I can fully explain the real story to the woman I love.
I know that isn’t easy.
Thank you for telling me to go for this. For telling me to do anything it took…to do anything for love.
[clears throat]
I love you, Lucky Wright. And I’ll do anything for love. Yes, Meatloaf, even that.
* * *
Episode 15: The Explosion
The End of Days
Life, my love, is a circle.
It starts somewhere and travels through lands near and far, but in the end, it always cycles back.
It’s absolutely impossible not to, and with the way our story played out, I’ve often started to wonder if love is the same.
Is it simply a cycle of highs and lows that bring you back to the spot where you started? Do the lessons you’ve learned stick and evolve the way you handle things going forward, or is the heart like the brain, reverting back to the most basic of our needs at the end of days?
The fact is, I’m not sure.
I’m not much of a philosopher, but I know of many greats, and this is the kind of thing they could spend a lifetime pondering.
Because of that, I’m going to give up the ghost here and let it go.
Our story started with hate, and I sure as fuck hope it ends with love, but somewhere in the middle, there was a goddamn explosion.
And if I’m being honest, I think it was both of our faults.
[laughs]
Don’t get mad at me. I know you’re outraged right now, that I’d call you out in such a public manner, but I’m telling you, we’re both a couple of wankers.
When I got to New York, and I headed to dinner with my sister that night, I’d spent days stewing over you pushing me away. You’d been distant, ripe with denial, and for fuck’s sake, you’d boarded a plane headed across the country without saying a word.
Whether you thought us to be in a true relationship or not, as a man you’d connected with in the way we’d connected during the sex, I’d hoped you would show me more consideration than that.
I might not be a bloody saint, but I’m a human being. And the fact that you let me worry about you for as long as you did was a mistake on your part.
One I’ve forgiven you for, obviously, but shit…don’t ever do it again. Please.
[distinct pause]
I may have played it cool, Lucky, but I damn near tore California apart looking for you. I…I was a mess.
Finding out you’d gone…I cried.
Fuck.
I didn’t think I’d admit to it here, I didn’t think I’d admit to it ever…but there it is.
I may have hurt you irrevocably, but you hurt me too.
You have the power like no one else I’ve ever known, and that’s bloody terrifying.
Knowing that I feel the way I do about you, and you can just decide it’s not worth it…I don’t know if I’ll ever completely shake how awful that is.
[pauses and sighs]
Meanwhile, while I was sitting in California in a bloody puddle of my own manly tears, you were in New York, stewing over the story of Amelia I’d allowed you to paint.
An ex-lover, reunited.
A powerhouse surfer and her other half.
Jesus Christ, but we were a powder keg just waiting to blow up, weren’t we?
Poor Allie.
As far as she knew, we were a couple of mates, meeting up with their girl for dinner and a chat.
[laughs]
We sure as fuck chatted, didn’t we?
At full bloody volume with the tact of a couple of knife-fighting prisoners, we chatted.
[laughs and then sighs]
I’m sorry I threw the past in your face just as much as I know you’ll be sorry you did the same. Neither of us knew the real story, and fuck, I’m not even sure we do now.
Hours and hours of monologue by the both of us, and we’re still telling both of our stories from just the one side.
I don’t know where our biggest problems started, and I don’t know where we sealed the bloody contract of our end.
All I know is that I’d fix it if I could.
I mean, I’m trying, right? And I don’t think you did it on purpose, but you’re trying, too. Call it closure if you want, but your soul is searching…searching for me.
Just like mine will always be searching for you.
I love you, Lucky. I want to pick up the pieces of the rubble we’ve left behind, and I want to put us back together.
I’ll be doing one final episode, tomorrow, just before I start getting ready for the next tour stop in France.
I hope you’ll listen.
* * *
Episode 16: Meet Me in Paris
Day One of Getting Back Up
Lucky.
Luciana Wright.
LuLu.
Luci.
Little fire.
You’re one hell of a woman to a lot of people, not least of all to me.
You’re soft and flirty. Delicate and fashionable. You’re fun and vibrant, and you’re stubborn and fiery.
You’re all the things I never knew I wanted in a woman and then some, and most important of all, you’re the woman I love.
I know we’ve been through the wringer, and I know I’m to blame for more than enough of it.
But we’re a match, in every way you can be, and I believe we’re meant to be together.
The last several weeks without you have been clarifying in all the ways I never knew I needed, and some of the worst of my whole entire life.
I’ve faced hard truths of my own and spoken some to you. I’ve told the truth, for better or worse, and I’ve filled you in on all the parts of our story you missed.
What I haven’t really done…is tell you how I feel about it all.
Would I do it all over again if I could? Would I start over at the airport and keep the loose words of our first encounter locked up tight?
Would I have given in to the feeling you awakened in me at first sight sooner? Would I have let myself believe in the power of change and right timing?
Would I have kept myself out of your business with Jordy and let it all settle on its own? Fought for you like a gentleman?
Would I have been better off? And really…would you?
I’ve asked myself these questions—along with dozens more—over and over again during the time we’ve been apart.
And at the end of it all, I have only one conclusion.
I could have done better the first time around and loved you right from the beginning. I could have made better choices and been more succinct, and maybe I would have had you forever.
But if I had, I wouldn’t know how empty I felt without all of it. Without you.
I’d have missed the lessons.
I’d have missed the journey.
Hell, Lucky…I’d have missed the fall.
[distinct pause]
Falling in love isn’t perfect. It never was, and it never will be, and to think it could be is foolish.
Instead, I beg of you to join me in the imperfect.
Accept us for our flaws and live them with me.
Take the leap, get back up from the goddamn bloody mess we’ve left of each other on the ground, and take the leap with me.
[distinct pause]
Change your flight.
Right now.
Don’t go to Nouvelle-Aquitaine on September 1st.
Tell me you love me, Lucky, and do it by meeting me in Paris instead. Under the Eiffel Tower, at dark. Come and capture the jerk…and do it under the lights.
I know I’m usually late, but I assure you…this time, I’ll be waiting.
* * *
* * *
Lucky
I’m late, and it’s to a meeting with Vanessa, of all things.
I’d like to blame it on something—flat tire, navigation wasn’t working, attacked by a swarm of bees—anything, really.
But I take the freaking subway, and navigation can’t be an issue when I’ve been working at the same office for the past few years. Not to mention, bees generally keep to the flowers, and New York is more of a concrete paradise than anything else. I’d have an easier time blaming it on random puddles of urine than wildlife.
The real truth is, I’ve been having a hell of a time getting out of bed lately.
I wish I could say it was because of a sudden, inexplicable bout of insomnia, but ever since Ollie ripped my heart out of my chest, I’ve been a wreck.
Can’t eat, can’t sleep, World Series kind of stuff.
If you don’t understand that reference, you’re obviously not a child of the Mary Kate and Ashley generation and have not seen the award-winning film, It Takes Two.
I suggest you rectify that immediately.
P.S. I don’t think it actually won any awards.
Still…it applies.
I have trouble with sleeping, trouble with waking up when I do sleep, trouble with eating my emotions, trouble with not eating when I should be eating, trouble with crying too much, trouble with not being able to cry when I feel like I need to cry.