as published in The Metro (UK), 26 August 2023

“My ex-girlfriend has a dress like that. You should try it on. You’d look pretty.”

I turned to the man beside me. I can still remember his straw-like hair. I can still remember his face, oval and doleful, with heavy blue eyes. I can’t remember his name. Let’s call him Mark.

This was our first date. And it wasn’t going well. But then, neither one of us really wanted to be there. Mark was still obviously in love with his ex-girlfriend. And me? Well, I’d spent the night before making out with somebody else.

It was late April 1995. I’d arrived at the University of Oregon about a month earlier and thrown myself into university life. One of the first friends I’d made was Jude. You know that dress that is hanging in the back of your closet? You bought it on an impulse, because you loved the way it looked in the shop. You took it home and for the first few weeks you wore it everywhere, until one day you caught a glimpse of yourself in a plate-glass window and realized it really wasn’t you. You still like it, though, and every time you see it, you smile. Jude was like that.

Jude was the reason I was on this date with Mark. He’d set us up. It was a disaster from the start. It was never going to be anything else.

“My ex-girlfriend has short hair. You should cut your hair. You’d look better that way.”

I should have cared more. But I didn’t.

A few weeks before, I’d walked into the TV room in the basement of the dorms and promptly fallen in love with an Australian student. He had dark brown hair and deep grey eyes and a cleft in his chin. He looked at me and smiled, and something inside of me stirred. “Oh,” I realized with a start, “This is why I was created. I was created to love this man.”

That night, we stayed up talking until 2 AM. If Jude was the dress that didn’t suit me, Peter quickly became my favourite jumper. I felt safe around him. Comfortable. Comforted. I never wanted to take him off. I was disappointed when he mentioned his girlfriend, but I accepted it. We could still be friends. I didn’t care what role he played in my life; I just knew I needed him to be a part of it.

For the next few weeks, we were inseparable. We’d eat together at the cafeteria, talking for hours over fish sticks and mashed potatoes. When his dorm had a movie night I’d tag along, and when mine went out for ice cream I’d invite him. And yes, of course I wanted it to be more. But I was willing to settle for less.

I wasn’t going to moon after him, though, so I’d agreed to go on this date with Mark. Three days before, Peter and his girlfriend broke up. The night before, we made out. “So, are we going out?” he asked me. “Okay,” I replied, “But can it wait until after tomorrow? I have a date.”

I should have cancelled, but I didn’t know how to. I didn’t have Mark’s number. I didn’t have Jude’s number. I don’t think I even knew his last name. I was 18, and like all 18-year-olds, I was a bit dumb. It was dinner and a movie – what did it matter?

So I showed up at the appointed time, and greeted Mark with a smile, and we had Chinese food, and I tried to make small-talk with a man who only wanted to talk about his ex-girlfriend. Then, because there were almost two hours to kill before the movie started, we walked through the mall, and he tried to turn me into someone I was never going to be. We didn’t hold hands as we walked through the mall and he pointed out all of my shortcomings. He didn’t try to put his arm around me while we watched the movie. At the end of the date, I thanked him, and he drove off without suggesting we go out again.

After it was over, I walked into the TV room and found Peter. He wrapped his arms around me, and we kissed, and we never stopped kissing. We made a life together. I followed him to Australia. We eloped in Fiji. We bought a house. We built careers. We had two amazing children. And for 26 years, we were happy.

And then one night, quite suddenly, he died.

What do you do with your life when your purpose is gone?

I wish now that I’d canceled the date. It would’ve been fairer to Mark. More importantly, it would’ve given me a few more hours with Peter.