Updated: here comes a moment in every relationship, however brief, when you realizes that things are destined for failure. Sometimes it’s something you do, sometimes it’s something she does, and often it’s nobody’s fault. Either way, these moments remain with us, seared into our memories, as testaments to our deeply personal journeys through romantic life. This is one man’s attempt to share some deeply personal moments of his own.


Four years ago I went on a family vacation to a Club Med in the Turks and Caicos Islands. By some bizarre mixup, it happened to be a Club Med for “singles," and the more time goes by the more I realize how awkward that was. I mean, I guess if one is being dragged into a family vacation as a single man in his 20s, it’s better to be dragged into a singles club than a family club. But still, being at a singles club with your parents is awkward at best. In any case, there I was, with my parents, my younger brother, and a lot of desperate single people.

The crowd wasn’t overstocked with hotties, but there were a few. One stood out in particular -- she was a tall, French brunette, and extremely pretty. One night at the central bar, I noticed her with her friends and decided to try to make some conversation. It wasn’t easy. I tried to show off my savvy about France and the French language (my being from Montreal and all), but she wasn’t terribly impressed. Regardless, I hung around for a bit. And when she came over and asked me to join in a drinking game that lots of people seemed to be playing I was up for it, of course.

After she pushed me into the center of the gathering, I realized that the game involved being force-fed tequila while tied down to a spinning table –- not exactly my idea of fun. “Have you tried that?” she said. “No,” I replied, trying to sound easygoing. Suddenly a staff member grabbed me and told me to climb on to the table. In front of everyone, at the center of the crowd, I couldn’t refuse. And it might impress the girl, I thought. So I climbed onto the table, downed the tequila, let the overeager staff member spin me around, and could not believe the strength of the resulting head-rush. My face felt like it was going to explode, and my distorted expression must have been embarrassing to watch. I was in hell. Worst of all, when I got up, the girl was nowhere to be seen. I’m not even sure she had seen it happen. The whole thing had been pointless.

The next day I saw her by the pool and approached her again, trying to play it cool and brush aside the events of the prior evening. “Would you do me a favor and come to the beach with me?” she asked. “Sure,” I said, obviously. So we walked together to the beach and chatted a little bit. Maybe, just maybe, I had somehow played my cards right. When we got to the beach she asked me to wait for a second while she picked up her camera and a sign. “Here,” she handed me the camera. “Would you take a picture of me?” “Sure,” I said. As she backed away from me and held up the sign in front of a beautiful Caribbean beachscape I could not believe what I was seeing: “JE T’AIME, JEAN-PHILLIPE." Turns out neither of us had any business being at a singles club.