There 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.


Hot summers may be uncomfortable, but they can also be sexy. Anyone who’s seen the movie Grease knows this. At nighttime, people flood the city streets. Clothing is minimal. The mood is easy and relaxed. Everyone is slightly sweaty. And the boundaries between indoors (the private) and outdoors (the public) begin to evaporate.

Last year I moved to New York City in the middle of a summer heat wave. On my way into town, U-Haul in tow, I stopped off at my friend’s girlfriend’s apartment to pick up some spare furniture that was being given away. Not only was the furniture fantastic (I’m writing on a snazzy desk I picked up there at this very moment), but my friend’s girlfriend had a gorgeous roommate. She was wearing a provocative one-piece outfit to manage the heat, and I got a chance to talk to her as I made off with her stuff. We didn’t get to discuss much, but, being a newcomer and all, I succeeded in getting her to agree to show me around her part of town.

After a successful second date, I invited her back to my place, where we had a drink and I took her up the fire escape onto the building’s rooftop. The night was hot, the view was beautiful, the city lights were ablaze, and the rooftop solitude was romantic. We began to kiss. The feeling was electric. Her lips seemed to fit so snugly into mine. Our bodies were pressed up against one another. But then, gradually, something began to feel strange. As we continued kissing, I noticed myself caressing and holding her not so much in a sexual but a loving, almost paternal way. I couldn’t tell if I wanted to have sex with her or cradle her. It was almost as if we had fast-forwarded our relationship, and were kissing like an old married couple, rather than like second-daters. The feeling was intense, and intriguing, but entirely unexpected –- and, to be honest, unwanted. I think we were both thrown off by the sensation, although we didn’t dare discuss it, and when we carried on inside, things were awkward and fizzled out after not too long. The next time we saw each other, a few weeks later, our sexual chemistry was even more out of whack. That was the last time I saw her.