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Half Full or Half Empty?
I known as him “Cup Guy” as a result of in each picture on his relationship profile, he held a cup. Last Pride month, our relationship fizzled. Five months later, I watched him kiss somebody new at “our” bar within the West Village. During the kiss, Cup Guy’s eyes had been locked on mine. I couldn’t look away. Later, I noticed him order two vodka-Cokes, possible for himself and his date. Surprise: He sauntered to my desk. “Take it,” he stated, grinning, sliding a drink over, earlier than leaving abruptly. I stared at this cup, questioning if it was a peace providing or an invite. — Dillon Fernando
A Type of Second Sight
Before my divorce, I took a lot of selfies and posted them on Facebook. I learn the feedback greedily: “Beautiful household,” “trying nice.” We have to be OK, I reassured myself, if individuals see us that method. What an astonishment to fall in love once more in my 50s. I didn’t know intimacy this straightforward was doable, like loosening shoelaces you didn’t know had been tied too tight. On our first trip collectively, I photographed our lengthy shadows within the desert, holding palms. But I didn’t submit it. I didn’t have to. Being checked out, I’ve realized, just isn’t the identical as being seen. — Sarah Gundle
The Greatest Guy’s Great Son
There is a lady I’m so in love with and we’ve been collectively for 18 months. She broke up with me final week. Driving my 10-year-old son, Max, to a pool party close to Mulholland Drive, he requested me how I used to be feeling about it. I advised him I used to be unhappy and he stated he was unhappy, too. But then he stated one thing so stunning. He stated, “Dad, she’s lacking out on the best man. You’re superb.” And I slowed the automotive all the way down to a cease and cried. — Steven Dworman
A Meeting of Mes
Imagine sitting at a desk with previous variations of your self. I believe it might look one thing just like the scene in “The Nutty Professor,” during which Eddie Murphy performs all his members of the family. I’d be at a eating desk: My present, 20-year-old self, sitting between 18-year-old me along with her hopeful stare, my 12-year-old me who’s too insecure to search for, and my 10-year-old me whose confidence is immeasurable. The star of the present could be child me with my hair, thick and combed, like a bachatero from the ’70s, smelling like candy hospital cleaning soap, sleeping peacefully. — Niomi Nunez
