Mark meant a lot to me and I’m utterly broken to see he’s gone. He was the first person who ever made me feel attractive and pretty, and he was one of the most interesting and elusive people I’ve ever known. We met when I was 17, and had a date when I had just turned 18. It was never going to work but he was so charming and nerdy that I developed an instant crush on him, to which I would never admit at the time. He was impish, clever and handsome, and for sone reason talking to me. I just went with it and we had a few dates until I moved to Japan. We parted ways and he dated a good friend of mine for years, and I was happy to see them happy. But when I returned to I Portland in  2017  things had changed and he was single again. He actively sought me out and asked me on a long-awaited date. My last night with him was what I’ll remember him by always, because it was the coming full-circle of a long-burning ember.

 He picked me up at my place and we went out to Japanese at Maru in southeast Portland. I looked very different from how I used to: both much thinner, with now-short hair and Mark noticed immediately and I could tell by how he spoke that he was genuine in the components he paid me, despite my also being in bandages from having recently been hit by a car. We passed out at his place and when I woke I found him packing a bag.

 “Oh good! You’re up! I’m taking you to Hood River for some much needed fun!”

I could tell by his tone that arguing or questioning it would be pointless and I was secretly very eager to spend more time with him, so we stopped by my place and I changed my bandages and packed a bag. We arrived in Hood River and started our afternoon at a local pub. We spent hours Talking and I kept getting lost in his eyes and boring when his foot would brush my leg under the table. It was everything I ever wanted it to be. We went to his favorite Japanese restaurant there and caroused with the proprietors and ended-up B at Naked Wines, driving ourselves into a stupor and making bad lascivious puns until we could embarrass ourselves no more and we took a room at a hotel. I wad still really hurt and in a lot of pain and started to cry while I changed my bandages. Mark heard me and came around into the bathroom and I hid my face and turned bright red. 

“I don’t really want to be seen like this, you know”, I said as I wrapped up my hand (half of the palm from which the skin was mostly missing). Mark grinned and awkwardly put his arms around me and gave me a tight, but injury-conscious bear hug. 

“All I see is one sexy,  brilliant man”, said Mark. We hobbled me back to the bed, I took my pain medication and Mark held me in his strong, nervous arms and we talked about what had happened to me since we last knew one another. It was the first time I had really relayed the tale to anyone I cared about about my experiences of homelessness in San Francisco, what my parents had done to clip my wings, and how scared I was after being hit on my bike. He wanted to hear it all and actively engaged me to tell the stories. I hadn’t felt like anyone cared for years, but he did. It wasn’t a romantic, sexy, or fun conversation but Mark listened and just kept making his affection for me known in how he kissed my neck and squeezed me. 

“You’ve been through hell and are still stupid hot” he said. And he nuzzled into back of my neck and I fell asleep with him holding me.  It was exactly what I needed and had always wanted with him. I remember specifically thinking “Wow. We finally got to do this.” And almost immediately the same words came out of Mark’s mouth. Both of us had been wanting it but could never figure out how to make it work until then. Neither of us thought we would ever get to. We drove home the next day and he helped me get into my bed at home and he kissed me before telling me we needed to hang again soon and that the last night was really special.

That was the last time I ever saw him, with him looking back at me, ginning ear to ear, as he shut the door to my apartment and disappeared from my life. I tried getting in touch with him several times but he was a ghost. Mark was always a million things and places at once. I never quite knew why he seemed so flight around me and never will, now. I always held out hope that we would meet again and that one sweet, fun night would be the template for more dates or at least being closer as friends. The world would sadly not give us that chance.  I’ll miss him dearly and will remember him always.  

Goodbye, Mark. You changed my world, and I had it bad for you. I hope you knew that on some level, and I wish I’d told you how I really felt.