Back on December 4th, I joined a march for Eric Garner and against police brutality. While we were stopped on the West Side Highway, I asked a dude what was being said or happening further away then I could see (he was tall). We continued chit chatting for a little while and then in the midst of a confrontation between police and protestors, we lost each other.

The following Saturday I decided to post on “Missed Connections,” fully expecting nothing. I wrote every piece of information that I could remember about him. A few days later, after I’d forgotten about the post, I got an email. It was him. His friend (who, he said, was the kind of person who spent free time reading Craigslist ads) had found it and forwarded it to him.

We met up a few days later after we both marched (separately) in the Millions March. It turns out that he was a fan of Buddhism and regular meditator. We also both loved John Lennon. And reading, among other things. It was really nice. It was easy. We meditated together. He met one of my best friends. He was completely honest with me about how he felt (and it was good) and I was with him too. I was pretty sure he was one of my soulmates.

Then he found out that he’d gotten accepted to a great school to go to their post-bac pre-med program and everything changed (understandably). He wasn’t a science person and he was trying to make himself one so he needed to study. And study, and study more. We decided last week when he came downtown to have lunch with me that it was for the best not to date anymore. He just didn’t have the time that he wished he had.

It was hard and it sucks. But it was also the logical decision. I still believe he was one of my soulmates, but as Elizabeth Gilbert points out above, it doesn’t always mean that’s the person you’re meant to be with.

I’m still trying to sort out what the lesson was that I was supposed to learn from these past two months. I’m sure it’ll come to me when I least expect it. Just like he did. 

Damnit.

I was on the C train uptown tonight headed home after dinner with my best friend. A guy gets on at 72nd street and sits next to me with a huge stack of fashion magazines. He quickly looks at me and says, “These aren’t for me. My sisters cuts up magazines and when I saw these, I called her and she told me to take a few.” I responded accordingly (“ahhh.”) and then he looked at my jacket and pants, both of which were pink, and said, “You’re very pink today…. my favorite color is usually purple.” I told him that was my next favorite and he said, “What, after green?” With a huge I’m-Such-A-Witty-Nerd grin on his face.

I laughed and he asked if I lived in Harlem too, I said no and he said he lived by Columbia. I of course asked if he’d been to JOE on 120th and he said, “Nope, I’ve never been. Do you want to take me there? I’d like that.” He was totally not-creepy but still, I just smiled and thirty seconds later the train stopped at my stop.

I’ve never had an actual normal, sort-of-cute-in-that-nerdy-kind-of-way strike up a conversation with me on the train and it was kind of nice. I feel bad that I didn’t at least give him some kind of clue of how to find me, you know, Serendipity style.

Nice to know that nice (and seemingly normal) guys are still out there.