I had long ago given up on the idea of finding love and a lasting relationship.
In 2014 I had already been living in the village for three years when feelings of isolation and loneliness began to take hold. Yes, I had my bestie, Martin, to hang with. But I longed for something romantic, perhaps with someone who spoke English. Luckily, in our electronic world, connection is just an HTML page away. I found a website to meet others and began to peruse the listings. There were men from many different countries in Europe and I fantasized about having an affair with [at least] one of them. I conversed with a few potentials, but one kept popping up: a man from Finland.
J was living in Helsinki with his elderly lover to whom he was now caretaker. I didn’t understand what exactly he was looking for, but we began having some short but nice exchanges. I learned that he was a printmaker, and he sent me images of some of his work. We developed a pen pal relationship, which suited me just fine. My feelings of isolation dissipated over time and I no longer desired a romantic tryst. Still, I continued to enjoy our occasional emails.
These email exchanges continued on for ten years, during which we shared our quotidian lives. J shared with me gallery show openings, trips to learn new art techniques, concerts he attended, and the death of his lover. I shared such things as my leg infections, aortic stent, and all the other maladies that accompanied me. While we had never met – and did not necessarily have plans to do so – we learned much about each other. What I discovered over time was how kind, caring and devoted J was. What J learned about me, I didn’t know.
Mostly due to my own health issues, I had not been on vacation for a very long time. I decided to return to the Dalmatian Coast, which I had not visited in many years. I suggested to J that perhaps he could join me on the trip. This was a bold move on my part, to offer to spend two weeks together with someone I had never met in person. He agreed to the trip.
Once the dates were set, I was nervous. I thought to myself, “What if we don’t like each other? How could I spend two weeks with someone I don’t like?” I shared my nervousness with J, who possessed no such concerns of his own.
We met at the arrivals area zone 2 of the Budapest airport. I jumped out of the car, opened the trunk, and gave him a big kiss on each cheek. We quickly grew comfortable with one other. Any concerns I might have had quickly disappeared. I felt certain this would be a good vacation.
I drove to the Budapest Hilton, situated on the hills of Buda above the Danube and overlooking the parliament building and the rest of Pest below. We unpacked and tried [and failed] to find dinner. We settled for homemade French fries and beers at a local beer hall.
The following day, our excursion began in earnest. The fourteen-day itinerary would take us through Croatia, Montenegro, and Albania, then up to Bosnia and Serbia before returning to the Budapest airport to again split apart. We experienced wonderful and enchanting moments throughout our trip. For example, on a chilly and rainy evening in Kotor, we happened upon a small marching band parading through Old Town for reasons we could not divine.
One morning in Mostar, we awoke at 5:00 to the sound of minarets beckoning followers to morning prayer.
And during all this, we laughed tremendously. I laughed so much and so hard that I could not remember when I had last felt so happy. It was as though I had awoken from a deep slumber.
Also during all this, something else remarkable happened: I began to fall in love.
I had long ago given up on the idea of finding love and a lasting relationship. My prior track record was dismal and I didn’t expect that to change. Long gone was any hope of a chance encounter that would lead to … something more. I was resigned to go through life solo or as the third in a “party of three.” While there was perhaps some regret that my life had not turned out as I had hoped, I accepted my fate without sadness or bitterness.
But suddenly everything felt differently. I found myself with a man who was kind, caring, and loving, one who made me laugh and into whose ear I whispered secrets at night. At nearly sixty-nine years of age, had I truly found someone I could love and who could love me back?! I began to resemble a thirteen year-old boy with his first romance. I was indeed head-over-heels crazed with infatuation.
Towards the end of the trip, we began counting down the number of days left together. Once the number reached zero and we stood in the departure area of the Budapest airport, we both looked sad and miserable. I kissed him on the mouth and promised we would soon be in touch. It felt wrong to say goodbye, and it pained me to watch him disappear into the terminal. Yet, the flight was paid for and scheduled. There was no turning back.
But there was also no turning back in my heart. My thoughts were only about J and how I missed him. I could not bear to be without him, not now, not anymore. I swore to myself that I would not allow this man to slip through my fingers. I needed us to be together and I wasn’t letting go. I had never before felt such intense emotions, and the words that I used sparingly, if at all during my lifetime, finally found their way from my lips. “I love you,” I said.
That is why I asked him to marry me.
