The next couple years seemed to fly by as I was floating on cloud 9. I graduated college with a BS in biology. The first in my family to earn a college degree. H made sure he was there to support me. He took photos and cheered me on. Even printed one picture in an artistic form that I will forever keep hung on my walls. He remained there for me whenever I needed him, or even when I didn’t, despite him having so much going on in his home life. Before graduation I did a school preservation trip to New Orleans for 11 days. Our longest time apart at the time. We called and text regularly, whenever I was out of the swamplands and actually had reception that is. 21 people went in all, and everyone slept in 1 of 2 rooms filled with bunkbeds and no privacy. I could see it made H uncomfortable and I honestly was loving seeing how much he cared for me. When I returned, him and his wife were having an argument, but he picked me up from school to give me a ride home none the less. I felt like the most important person in the world. Maybe a childish fantasy like that out of a fairytale. H, by all accounts and purposes, was indeed my white knight in shinning armor and I was spellbound by him.
He moved to DC that summer to begin the next chapter of his life as a medical student. His pregnant wife moved to Washington from what I was told, moving in with her sister. We stayed in contact and seemed to grow even stronger. During the school year of 2014-2015 we went on 4 vacations together, and I visited him in DC 3 times. One with my daughter. The span of the entire country couldn’t even seem to separate us.
Our first trip together had been before the move, when he had to go to San Diego for work and invited me along. It was the first time we were in a hotel together. We met up with a friend of mine there and had a wild night. Wandering the Gaslight district I got beyond drunk and when another equally drunk woman shoved me, I’m sure by accident, her boyfriend got in my face. I am not one to back down. Fight or flight- I am an aggressive fighter. Despite this man being visibly fit and much bigger than me, I got back in his face. It was the first time H saw my truly spicy side. The group ended up walking away and I proceeded to the bar where my friend and H we’re waiting- him watching with concern. H said that he asked my friend if he should jump in and do something, as it looked like I was going to fight. My friend replied with “ah, no. It’s just Rikki”. Him and I have been friends since 6th grade. We have had our own share of trials and tribulations together, but he knows me all too well to get involved in something like a brawl. H and I ended the night with Korean street tacos after visiting the Padres stadium, which really bit us in the ass the next day. Pun intended. Successful first trip none the less, in which I, for one, began to fall even more in love.
Our second trip was to New York on November 1, 2014 for my birthday. His wife had followed to DC by that time, very pregnant. His story was that she showed up at his door and said she was moving in, no conversation or question. I knew there was much he wasn’t sharing, but either way he still met me and my girlfriend in NYC. He took the train up from DC and was dressed up for Halloween weekend. We had a great night of drunken aimless wandering shenanigans, with me in 6 inch stilettos and him in a matching 1920s costume to mine. Thinking he knew where he was going, but in actuality was completely lost and turned around, he ended up leading us down multiple subways all over the city in an attempt to find the specific bar that he had visited during his last trip to the big apple. Despite me being completely drunk, it was definitely a memorable evening. The next morning however is unfortunately equally as memorable, but not nearly as joyful, when he got a text from his wife saying that he would never see his kid if he didn’t come home right away. He left breakfast and took the next train back down to DC. I was hurt, angry, and at the same time felt like the most terrible person in the world with the reality of our situation slapping me across the face. My friend and I had an amazing next couple of days together despite it all. She is my oldest friend and always down for a good time. We went out on the town and she watched as I danced on bar tops for free shots in a competition. We visited museums, walked through Central Park, visited Elis island and the Statue of Liberty, treated ourselves at a spa, and saw Wicked-my favorite play- on Broadway all dressed up in our ball gowns.
H’s daughter was born January 2015. He called me from the hospital right after the delivery. He had been keeping me updated the whole last trimester, asking questions about pregnancy and parenthood that I was all too happy to answer. It was cute actually. He sent pictures after the delivery and I realized how much we were bonded if he was coming to me and sharing this. A bit of a complicated delivery, I was glad to be there for him. It was weird balancing being friends along with my romantic feelings. He lived with his wife, shared a bed with her, and just had a child together, as I tried to compartmentalize all that I was feeling. I would rather keep him as a best friend though, than to loose him over romantic notions. I met his daughter for the first time, at 6 months old, on a trip I took out to DC. I taught him how to swaddle her and we took long walks with her in the stroller. I stayed in a hotel for obvious reasons, but felt so blissful in these makeshift, and highly inappropriate, family moments.
March 2015 H came to visit California as we took a road trip up highway 1. It was the first time spending 3 straight days together. We visited Hearst Castle, lunched in San Louis Obispo, wine tasted in Edna Valley, and eventually ended up at Green Gables Inn in Monterey. We agree that it was still one of the best trips we ever took together. On the first night I got a terrible migraine at dinner in San Simeon, something I have suffered from since 13. I tried but couldn’t stay at dinner with my head pounding and my vision seeing spots. I walked back to the hotel to take a bath and rest. H returned shortly after with our food in hand. He was sweet and caring, and eventually fell asleep before me. My migraine passed and I was starving. I got up to find the styrofoam packaging my spaghetti was in particularly challenging to open with out a ridiculous amount of noice. I also found the smell of sauce overwhelming and proceeded to shut the container after each bite, only then having to wrestle it again for the next savory taste. Each time the container made noice I quickly turned to make sure I didn’t wake H, but he never moved. He has Tinnitus from years of flying C-130s and sleeps with ear plugs. I could have probably had a dance party in the room and he would have been none the wiser. That didn’t stop my from being acutely aware of the noice I was making however. Luckily, the next day he found the story all too amusing. We proceeded up the coast in search of Bigsby Bridge, famous for some reason. We came upon a bridge we assumed to be the correct one and took no less than what felt like 100 photos of it, even climbing down a cliff in sandals for a better shot. We felt proud and accomplished somehow from this. As we continued a litter further, we noticed groups of people taking pictures of an even bigger bridge. The actual Bigsby Bridge. We had stopped at the wrong one. Hysterically embarrassed, and kind of over it at that point, we didn’t even stop to take adequate photos of the correct landmark. The trip continued on with other such hilarity such as a terrible parking job by H that he was so proud of until he realized how awful it was when we exited the car. Lunch in Big Sur when a couple of strangers joined in on my prank of claiming to see whales off shore which excited H, but when he quickly realized we were kidding we all laughed so hard I almost spilt my wine. A brewery we stopped at and he purchased a tank for me that I still wear in remembrance of the trip. And lunch on Pebble Beach after we drove down 17 mile drive. It was all so perfect. As we returned and got closer to our home town, H’s family reached out with desire to see him. His parents were at his sisters home in Santa Barbara, which was on our way, and they asked him to stop by for dinner. Feeling obligated he agreed. I of course could not join, as they knew nothing of me, and was instead left at the local mall to wander aimlessly until he returned to fetch me. That was the first time I started to feel upset in our relationship. The first time I began to feel abandoned. Over the years H would leave me on many a random streets, as he hid our relationship from the world. I felt insulted and disrespected, even though I knew I was the disrespectful one to his family. You can’t help how things make you feel though and it was the first time he ever made me feel bad or ashamed. It was the first time my heart began to crack. A small crack at first, completely undetectable, however just enough to begin weakening the foundation for what was about to come.
In April 2015 I went to DC for his birthday and surprised him with tickets to a galaxy soccer game, which I think he loved. He played soccer for years, is really good at it, and was a fan of the sport. He seemed so excited claiming no one had done anything like that for him before. I flew out as part of the surprise and got a hotel room to stay in for the weekend. The night of the game he stayed with me and I knew then that I never wanted to let him go.
In July 2015 I met him in New Orleans after his required Air Force trip to Baton Rouge for simulator training. New Orleans, one of my favorite cities in the world that I have been fortunate enough to visit so far. We went to markets, down Kings street, antique shopping, through the French Quarters, took a cooking class, and of course ended up on Bourbon street. He surprised me one night with an elegant Chefs tasting, making me feel like a queen. The first of many Chefs tasting throughout the years. We had escargot for the first time, which has become a special treat for us since. Wine and laughter filled our dinner table, along with excellent food of course. Afterwards, we walked down Bourbon street and got a reading from a psychic. I don’t remember it well, just that she knew we were both in the medical field and I was drunk enough to be impressed. We looked at strips clubs and bars, eventually made our way to the Carousel bar. One of only two like it in the world. The other Carousel bar is in Paris, France. H went to the restroom as I proceeded to grab us drinks. The bar is breathtaking with its circus-clad Merry-Go-Round set inside a grand hotel, where the staff is dressed in their 1940’s finest, and the live music is like that of no where else in the world. The bar tender was a serious looking man, of grandeur himself, and was stern in asking if I wanted my drink “made special”. I said “no, just regular please” as I had no idea what he was referring to. He repeated his question more severe while looking me dead in the eyes. I said ‘ok, sure”, still not understanding. All I remember is vermouth. I am not sure if he added a shot or what, but he was persistent. I stepped over the Carousel part of the bar and attempted to find a seat. The place was packed and not an inch of room was visible. H returned, I handed him his drink as we split up looking for a spot to commandeer. I found one that ended up being, ironically, next the an art curator I had met on my last trip to New Orleans with my school the year prior. As the bar does actually spin, H could not just stand behind me. He instead stayed close as I passed until he too could occupy a chair. The curator and I talked about the museum, the levies, New Orleans history and art. A pleasant conversation. When H was finally able to join full time he too joined our conversation for a bit before we all went our separate ways. The very last thing I remember is getting up and walking with H down the steps outside the bar. My vision slowly darkened, as if the ending of a movie, and I awoke the next day in the hotel room without a clue to what had transpired. We do not know if I was roofied or what, but I had completely blacked out. I was drunk, sure, but not at all the point of blacking out as I did. It was like someone just turned off the lights and I had absolutely no recollection of anything past leaving the bar. Thank God H was with me. He said he could tell I was intoxicated but did not realize, by any means, to what extent. He loves to tell the story that we eventually made our way back to the hotel for a very intimate night in which I proclaimed for the world to hear “best sex of my life!”. A moment he seems very proud of. Unfortunately I don’t remember a thing, so I would never dare to even jokingly argue against my own statement. We laugh so hard about it now. Him still proud. It’s yet another of an endless list of inside jokes.
October 2015 was my 30th birthday. It was my best birthday to date as we celebrated in Vegas together. H tells a story of how one day when we were at the hotel pool, and he went to the bar to grab drinks, he turned and saw this unbelievably hot woman laying in the water who he was immediately attracted to and found absolutely beautiful. He flatters me by claiming it took him a second to realize that that woman was me, and he felt so lucky to be with me. H always gave me such confidence in myself, such reassurance that I didn’t need to cover up with pounds of make up and name brand designers to be beautiful and accepted, as I thought I did. As society makes most woman believe they do. So in love, we had an unbelievable weekend going out to fancy restaurants, seeing cirque du soleil le reve- his favorite show, and even ending up at a club where Steve Aoki was DJing asking to “feel our energy”. Something that was not our scene, but we will always remember with delight. Dressed up on the town, strangers asked if we were models- something two self conscious and insecure individuals were honored by. They made comments about how funny and cute we were, and inquired how long we had been married. They saw our electricity as much as anyone who knew us. We were hypnotizing to all who were lucky enough to witness even a glimpse of our love.
All these adventures I had with H, my daughter was out having her own adventures. If she wasn’t with us, she was with my parents. Denver, Grand Canyon, PCH in California, Indiana to see my sister. I never left her unless she had some kind of plans of her own.
My friends told me to date. Said I was crazy for staying committed to a married man who now lived across the country and had a family. Yes, but I didn’t remain faithful to him out of love or promise solely. He for-filled me in every possible way, that I had no desire or need to seek more. Of course things weren’t perfect based off the circumstances, however when you find that person, whoever they may be, that awakens your soul and opens your heart like never before- that one person that makes you feel complete in your own right, you don’t need anything more. It doesn’t have to be a romantic partner but could be a friend, relative, or even a group of strangers on line whom you’ve found common ground with and you all support each other through lifes turbulent waters. For me it was my best friend, who yes- I also happen to be sleeping and in love with, but my friend first and foremost. I was living my life the way I saw fit and able to focus on my daughter and my career. This in turn enabled me to buy a house all on my own, become financially independent and successful, and allowed me freedom to do what I wanted whenever I wanted it. Every career choice he supported. Every decision made we would discuss logically and honestly. It’s like we were to halves of the same brain that could come to the most reasonable and optimal conclusion possible. Him the intellectually logical over thinker; and me passionate, with streets smarts and gut instincts. Just by being himself he was everything I needed in order to allow me to be the best version of myself I could be.
You-and-Me-Wine 