âWe dated for two years. Â He looked great on paper. Â He was a composer. Â He was tall and handsome. Â He convinced me that we were soul mates. Â And he was big into grand gestures. Â One time he rented a convertible, handed me a foldout map of Canada, and said: âPick anywhere you want to go.â Â He did keep cheating on me, but heâd blame that on his bipolar disorder. Â Heâd tell me that his high sex drive was a medical condition. Â And I believed him. Â Because I was young, and stupid, and in love. Â For my twenty-fifth birthday we were going to take a vacation to Seattle. Â Heâd just gotten back from a two-week trip to Israel. Â He was really quiet on the train ride to the airport. Â And just as weâre arriving, he tells me that he met someone in Israel. Â I start crying. Â Heâs stone faced. Â Iâm thinking if we can just get on the flight, everything will be fine. Â We go all the way through security and get to the gate. Â At this point Iâm musical theater girl sobbing. Â Our flight begins boarding. Â Everyone is staring at us. Â Eventually weâre the last two left, and the gate agents are waiting for us to make a decision. Â So I decide we should go home. Â But he insists that I let him buy me a ticket to Chicago, so I can spend my birthday with my family. Â So thatâs what I did. Â And the next day he calls me to wish me a happy birthday, from Nashville. Â Heâd flown out that same night. Â To visit the girl he met in Israel. Â That was the last I spoke to him. Â But he did email me a few years ago to tell me that heâd written a musical about his life. Â The airport scene was included. Â And he wanted me to attend the show.â


















