A friend of mine, Funmi “QueenFolayan” Franklin, recently asked me and her other female friends to write a piece for her baby daughter, Bralynn, about “the struggles and the journey we face on the road to good love.” This is my piece, which I’ll publish in two parts.
The last thing I wanted was a relationship.
At 28 years old, I had big plans for myself. I had recently decided to leave the job I’d had for the past four years, a job that had left me mentally and physically exhausted. My plan was to take a year off, to visit the schools that had shaped my childhood, and then travel halfway around the world following my curiosity’s lead. My goals was to write about all of it.
Then Darren came along and threw off my whole agenda.
I had actually met him nearly three years before, in May of 2005. Darren was in my younger sister’s graduating class at Loyola University New Orleans, and I had felt smitten by him right away. We had talked a bit while out with friends one night, and I had asked my sister about him so many times that she began to get annoyed. However, no matter how cute and charming Darren was, he had just graduated college. I had been working full-time for years. He was a Mississippi boy, and I was a California girl with no intention of leaving my home state.
In February of 2008, I flew to New Orleans to visit my sister, Gill, and experience my first Mardi Gras. When Gill told me that Darren was driving down from Jackson for the weekend, I felt a little flutter in my stomach and couldn’t help but smile. I wondered if I’d be as attracted to Darren as I had been the first time around.
When he showed up that Friday night at the parades, in faded jeans and a t-shirt he’d designed himself, I knew that I was most definitely still into him. Our conversation started that night and picked up the next day, and the day after that. We’d had common paths in life, having both started businesses in our twenties – mine a nonprofit youth organization and his a t-shirt design store – that had been great learning experiences, albeit taxing ones. I found myself surprised again and again by how hard Darren made me laugh with the unexpected things he said. I had never met anyone like him.
I remember the moment that I grabbed Darren’s hand so I didn’t lose him in the throngs of people at the Mardi Gras parades. I remember when he pulled me with strong hands back from the curb so I didn’t get bulldozed by a marching band, and when later that night, sitting on the floor back at our friends’ house, I leaned back into his chest and he put his arms around me.
Though my weekend with Darren had far exceeded my hopes for it, when I kissed him goodbye as he was leaving that Sunday night, I had no expectations of keeping in touch. After all, what was going to happen? We lived across the country from each other, over 2,000 miles apart, and I just didn’t do long distance.
On Monday, I texted Darren, “Wish you were here,” from the parades. On Tuesday, I flew to Maryland to see my grandparents and a close friend, and to my surprise, Darren and I continued to text each other. That led to a call the next night, and another, until it was clear that we wanted to talk to each other every day. Once I got back to my San Francisco apartment, I would laugh so hard on the phone with Darren that my housemates could hear me through the walls.
About two weeks from Mardi Gras weekend, Darren said, “I’d like to come visit you next month.” My stomach dropped. The fact that he was flying across the country to visit so soon meant that he was serious about me, right? I was a little panicked, because I couldn’t let my upcoming year of soul searching get ruined by a relationship. On the other hand, I couldn’t deny that I was excited to spend more time together. Darren’s short visit would be a litmus test to see if we were a good match.
And oh, how we were. From the moment I picked Darren up at the San Francisco Airport to the moment I dropped him off four days later, we didn’t run out of things to say to each other. I had planned a jam-packed whirlwind adventure through the Bay Area that included a walk on the Berkeley Marina at sunset, wine tasting in my beautiful hometown of Sonoma, and meals at some of the most renowned restaurants in the area. By the end of the trip, it was clear that Darren and I were hooked on each other.
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Melia I remember this part of your life! From when you lived in SF, My second baby shower, and our last meal before you left to reschool yourself!! While eating at a vegetarian restaurant, that’s when I learned about Darren. It’s beautiful to learn of your life journey together! Thank you for the updates Melia and I miss you!
Aw, I remember that, too, telling you about Darren and Reschool Yourself! It’s funny how long ago that was now. I miss you, too, and hope everything is going well for you and your sweet family.