The Gypsy Artist (better known as Barcelona)

Let me preface by giving the reason that I'm starting with Barcelona... In a nut shell, he is the only one that I thought I ever loved. When you're done reading this post, I'm sure you'll have doubts of these feelings and maybe even come to your own conclusions about why I am SINGLE!

See Barcelona was a friend of a friend of a friend, which is one of the best ways to meet a guy in this corrupt city - isn't it??? When I speak to happy couples, the most common story they share of meeting is through a friend. Admittingly when a friend introduces me to someone, it almost gives the guy validation... he automatically has one step above any other random guy.
So what if there was a few extensions to my story? It's not like I met him at a bar/club (like the many others).

It was early (before 2:00 PM) on a weekend day when my roommates and I went for brunch at 7A (one of my favorites) dressed in a regular brunch outfit (not-really- trying- to- impress- but- just- in- case- I- run- into- anyone- I- know- on- the- way look). About 3/4s of the way through brunch I realized (with help of a text of "where are we meeting") that I had actually made plans (an uncommon occurrence) with some other friends (The Candid Colorist & Brooklyn) to see an art exhibit on the other side of town (the West side).

There was no time to finish the meal AND go back home to change.

I was off to the art exhibit with the wrong outfit and even worse the wrong hair!!!

Candid had a friend in town from CA and was going to meet him and some friends at an apartment afterwards so me and Brooklyn came along.

Barcelona opened the door and as soon as I saw him there was something there. But the day turned into evening and we didn't have any incredible one-on-one conversation yet.

The group of us ate dinner together and then went for Margaritas & Spanish music at this awful Mexican spot that I really like. Barcelona & I couldn't have sat more far apart from each other if we had tried to... it was looking hopeless.
But when I have my mind set to something or someone, they don't really have a chance... my Margaritas were settling in and the dancing was about to unite us once and for all. We were the only two in our group to hit the floor and the others were ready to leave.

When we all got outside, Brooklyn & I were the only ones heading to the East but Barcelona insisted on walking with us. The dear friend that she is, Brooklyn asked questions that I never would have and then nonchalantly hopped into a cab to head back into the borough.

Finally, we were alone.

It was the most spectacular night and you could actually see stars in the New York City sky. We walked and talked for hours, passing my apartment and walked along the East River walkway. He held my hand, he complimented me in ways that others couldn't fathom, and when he finally kissed me it was like he was in love with me and like we've known each other forever.

I know what you must be thinking but it wasn't all empty conversation about how great I am... that was just bonus.

Among phylosophical conversation, our deep thoughts on life, and the people in it, I learned that this night was his last in town. He had lived in New Jersey, Barcelona, Minnesota, and New York as an artist and the next night he was going back to Barcelona where he would continue to paint.

It was all so romantic and although I can't say that I'm "that type," I was on this perfect night.

For days after meeting him my head was in the clouds and I told everyone that I was in love. When I say everyone it includes my mother, my father, my grandparents, my manicure lady, my bikini wax lady, my coworkers, my friends, a stylist that blow dried my hair, and a few people in between.

Finally, I could try to understand that adage - better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all. I was happy that I met him even if we wouldn't be together again in the immediate future.

Figuring the time it would take him to settle in, while taking into account my impatience, it took me a week to write a light email to Barcelona - just to give him my contact information and something to let him know that I wanted to stay in touch (without saying it).
What was I thinking? a romance in a foreign country perhaps? a reason to rediscover a place that I spent some good & bad times? I just had to do it.

Now here is the part that you've been waiting for... his response. It went along the lines of "it was great meeting you but now I'm here in Barcelona. Take care."

Oh yes - TAKE CARE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
He might as well have said F U... it would have been better that TAKE CARE.

So here I am left questioning whether it was really love that I felt, whether I would have loved him if he was an artist that was actually staying in NY, and whether I could feel love at all.

If you meet a guy that's leaving town tomorrow and says "take care," don't date him New York!