The Boys and Girls Watch Each Other Eat When They Really Just Want to Watch Each Other Sleep

I'm back from Peru. What a beautiful disaster that was.

Peru is a magnificent country -- really something special. It might be my favorite place that I have ever been, and, while I have not been everywhere, I have been to a sufficient number of places that crowning Peru as a favorite means something. The people are lovely (both emotionally and aesthetically), the climate is widely varied, and the ruins are magnificent.

So, of course, what do I do? The stupidest possible thing you can do in any situation: fall in love. Yeah, good job. I met this guy from my group who is absolutely amazing. In all seriousness, I think he's The One. Yet, simultaneously, I think I might not ever see him again. That's the bitch of it, and I've been crying off and on since I said good-bye to him at the airport until now.

Let's start with the down sides about this gentleman: he has a girlfriend and he lives in a far-off country. Those are two pretty big problems. Neither is insoluble -- the girlfriend could be dispensed with in minutes and, while distance is a bitch, people can relocate. Frankly, to be with him, I'd shove the dog under my arm and move to his city tonight with one carry-on bag. But while neither obstacle is insurmountable, they also can't just be brushed aside either. Even more annoying, his girlfriend sounds like a nice person (and you can imagine how it pains me to say that since I'm so incredibly jealous of her) and he loves her.

Now, let's move on to the up sides. This man has the most amazing heart, the most incandescent soul. I'm embarrassed to be so cheesy, but it's true. He's the funniest, smartest, most genuinely kind-hearted person I have ever met. He makes me laugh so hard, and he's so gentle with people that it makes my heart ache. For instance, we spent most of the trip frolicking around together acting like a couple of mentally ill fifteen-year-olds and repulsing our group members by beaming at each other like the Care Bear Stare (seriously, our guide at the ruins in Pisac asked me if the two of us were married, so I know that our giddiness was obvious even to total strangers). On the last night, we were walking arm in arm to the group farewell dinner, so you can imagine me there with my arm nestled snugly in his elbow, and I took a step out into traffic too quickly. He covered my hand with his and jerked me back out of harm's way, and then he left his hand there for a minute. It was just one of those perfect moments where I felt like Elizabeth Bennet with Mr. Darcy -- just so cared for and cared about. We also both have equally filthy minds (this is where this man and I start to differ from the characters in Pride and Prejudice), so we flirted constantly. I should probably write a formal letter of apology to everyone else in our group who had to watch our bizarre mating rituals. Anyway, he's someone that I knew instantly that I could trust completely. I was completely myself with him, and he adored me for it. How amazing is that?

On the last night of the tour, there was a mix-up with the rooms. I had a room to myself and it had two beds in it. He had a roommate (a really cool guy he did not previously know before the tour), and the hotel gave the two of them a room with one bed in it. So, I invited him to stay in my room because I am an opportunist. It was the last night of the tour, we'd been flirting with each other at an Olympic level, the sexual tension was at an insanity-provoking levels, and yet, he remained loyal to his girlfriend. Now, at one level, that's really fucking annoying. I mean, I'm in the next bed thinking, "This is my last night with this man I've fallen in love with. Will I ever see him again? Don't know, but it doesn't look good. If I don't touch his junk, I'm going to die." But at a far more important level, I'm thinking, "Yeah, he's made the right call for everyone involved in this mess." We talked about it in the morning, and I told him I admired his position of loyalty. I told him that I wish he was single, but that if something happened between us, he would end up hating himself and me for it and never talk to me again, and I would rather be his friend than be nothing or, even worse, be something he was ashamed of. Besides, even if things worked out in the best possible way and he broke up with his girlfriend to start up something with me, I would end up with a guy I already know cheats on his girlfriends. I told him that because my dad cheated on my mom and broke her heart, I could never accept being in a relationship with someone who would do that to someone they profess to care about. He told me that he was very tempted to sleep with me and that he'd really struggled with it, which at least let me know that it wasn't all in my head and that he was interested.

I went with him to the airport even though his flight was quite a bit earlier than mine so we could have a few more hours together. Saying good-bye to him was awful. We held each other for a long time, but he eventually had to board the plane. After that, I completely lost my shit in the airport. I just fell to pieces in a spectacular way. I'm very reserved about expressing the emotion of sadness in a public place or in front of anyone, but I sat in the departure lounge of the airport in Cuzco sobbing uncontrollably and wiping my face with little wadded up pieces of toilet paper from the bathroom. I kept my sunglasses on so that people couldn't see how red and puffy my eyes were, but that was next to useless in terms of dignity retention. After I excreted all the moisture in my body out through my tear ducts, I was catatonic for the next 24 hours until I finally got home. I know that all sounds like self-indulgent histrionics, but I had just said good-bye to someone I believe to be my soul mate, and only God knows when or even if I will see him again. It seemed like as good a thing as any to spur on a complete mental collapse.

I don't know what will happen now. I mean, obviously, I have this fantasy that he'll continue on his vacation (he's in South America for another week), continue thinking about me, and realize that he's as miserable as I am that we're separated. The fantasy goes on to feature him returning home to end things politely but firmly with his girlfriend (I don't want the girl to suffer needlessly, but I do want her to go find some other boyfriend so I can have hers) and then turn up on my doorstep here to announce that he no longer sees any point in living without me and we must, must, must be together. I have a feeling that that is unlikely.

I'm trying to keep in mind that if it's meant to be, it'll work out. And if he really is The One or my soul mate, then he is as miserable as I am to be parted from me, and he will do what he has to do (since the ball is really in his court here) to reunite us. I just miss him so terribly that it feels like my heart is breaking all the time, and then putting itself back together, just so it can break again. I almost wish I never met him so I wouldn't miss him so much now. I mean, come on, God. Are You just tormenting me by bringing me into a situation with someone who is quite plainly my other half and then snatching him away again just to have a go at me? Rawr.