Finding Felicity: One
This is Finding Felicity, an episodic blog documenting my search for a very special woman whom I briefly met on a vacation in the tropics.
The purpose of these episodes are to motivate myself in my search for her and eventually meeting with her again. The events after they happen will be documented here.
There are numerous complications that stand between us, however, and the emotional intensity for this journey will undoubtedly rise with each entry.
To protect the privacy of everyone involved I have altered the names and some historical personal details of the relevant individuals.
My name is Edgar, I am a male, 30-something divorcee with a 4-year-old daughter name Clara, and working as a business analyst for a growing data company. It has been an very tough couple of years for me and along with losing my marriage, my mother has begun losing her battle to cancer. I have suffered crippling bouts of depression that have affected my work and personal life and has made sustaining relationships of any kind difficult.
Despite all this going on I had a group getaway planned with some close friends to Latin America which I had no intention of missing. I had even shed a great deal of weight and starting taking care of myself aesthetically with expensive haircuts and quality, well-fitting clothing.
I’ve never vacationed as a single man and for the life of me I can’t recall why, because the way the trip went has become a pillar among the high points in my life.
Boiled down to the very basics: there were a lot of beautiful, available women at the resort and they made their existence known to me.
Now, I have never been the type to be a ladies man but perhaps I’m at the age where I know enough about life to carry myself properly. Years of neglect and manipulation from all sources had unwritten my ability to love myself, but nowadays I think I truly do love myself and that confidence is written on my face.
Dressing well from top-to-bottom in proper, warm weather evening wear also helps.
Her name is Felicity, and she’s a mid-twenties software engineer straddling time between San Francisco and Boston. I first saw her out of nowhere, waiting happily at the edge of the bar to order a drink.
Dark, gorgeous hair, bright eyes, an inviting smile that’s impossible to look away from and an easy way of speaking. She was delightful, smart, and real. I couldn’t get enough of her.
I would see her in brief pockets over the last few days of my trip but never for long, she was traveling with family and had obligations to stay close. Additionally, I also made other female friends and found myself having light obligations as well.
Yet I always looked for Felicity.
On my last full day we agreed we would meet up provided she didn’t venture to a nearby town for nightlife, which she said was unlikely.
She didn’t show.
The next day I saw her briefly and she explained she did in fact travel out for the night. I was crushed, it felt like the timing finally had a chance but she chose something else. We said our quick goodbyes and that was that.
I spent nights with some women and days with others, but I would have exchanged all of them and a million more for another moment with Felicity.
I brooded while waiting for the transport to the airport and told myself that it was just not meant to be. My roots are planted in my town, she lives far away in another, and there is at least a ten year age difference.
And still I ached. There’s a feeling you get when you know someone has you, when that hook is in your heart and you fight with it in every lonely moment. She had her hook in me.
I wrote my personal details on a piece of paper and set on a last ditch effort to find her.
I walked and walked, and had begun to return when suddenly — I found her.
Like all other times she appeared out of nowhere, right beneath my nose to delight me again.
I handed her the paper:
Call me, drop me a line, anything. I don’t want this to be the last time I talk to you.
We hugged and I left, and the hook carves deeper.
She smiled just that extra little bit when she saw the paper in my hand that day. Other days as I passed her family members they whispered my name in recognition to each other (and I pretended not to notice), even if she wasn’t with them.
She always had a special smile for me when we talked, I think about that smile all the time now.
I know she saw me with other women while I was there and I don’t doubt she had other suiting men, but there is one thing undeniable: there is something between us and I want to know more.
Now I wait.
Every hour and every day that passes causes the hook to rattle within me and forces the ache to rise to optimism and fall down to hopelessness.
And still I wait, for a single message from the void before I set out on my own.
Will the light of hope burn bright or flame out? Read part two: “A Line in the Sand”.