Progress Report: Operation FILWDC.

I was speechless.

The lights. The monuments. The moon. The reflections on the water.

Everything was so beautiful. Everything was so breathtaking.

For a half second I forgot where I was. I found myself in a state of deep appreciation and wonder.

And then, I quickly snapped back into reality. And then, I caught myself on the verge of thinking myself out of those magical feelings. And then, I let myself go again. I let myself fall even deeper into the wonderfully intoxicating feelings.

Why am I still so resistant towards falling in lust with this city? Once upon a time, I wrote about Cheating on Europe. While this post obviously discussed my feelings towards the country of Europe, it also predicted the feelings I am currently experiencing towards Boston. I find myself constantly talking about how much I love Boston, how much I miss Boston and – most importantly – how I am surprised to find that I like Washington, DC as much as I do, but that I will never love it nearly as much as I love(d) the city of Boston.

The fact of the matter is that I am starting to fall for this city (truth) and it makes me feel like I’ve left Boston behind. Granted, I have left Boston behind, at least from a literal standpoint, but a large part of me is still desperately clinging to the city that most recently captured my heart.

However, I do want to be open to a new lust – dare I say love? – affair. As I said 10 months ago, “cities are fantastic lovers.” And I’m starting to realize that DC has the potential to take me for quite a ride.

Note: Operation FILWDC stands for “Operation Fall in Love with DC,” a project (so to speak) I began shortly after I moved to our nation’s capitol. Visit Operation Fall in Love with DC to read up on the back story of the operation.

Cheating on Europe.

Yesterday I explored my tendency to fall into quick, fleeting and lustful love…

Today I would like to take a look at how I am capable of experiencing a far deeper and much more meaningful form of love…

Let’s take another quick trip down the memory lane of an old journal -

October 3, 2005 7pm

Is it possible for your one true love to be a place instead of a person? Is it possible to be in love with a particular way of life? Is it possible for that way of life and the way it makes you feel to be more important than anything else, anyone else? Is that selfish? Sure, everyone has heard of workaholics, people in love with working, obsessed with their jobs. What about Europeaholics? How can you reach a healthy compromise if all you really want is one thing? Nothing else, nobody else compares to how that one thing makes you feel. Being away from that one thing – that one place – leaves you heartbroken everyday. Is it possible to feel heartbroken even though a person wasn’t responsible for the breaking of your heart? And what if you do find someone…are you then cheating on Europe? Your one true love. Or just cheating on yourself by settling?

October 11, 2005 5:40pm

WHAT was I thinking? Cheating on Europe??!! . . .

It’s interesting to look back at these old journal entries. I keep telling myself that I’ve changed so much, however, when I sneak a peek back at my old thoughts, I find that quite the opposite is actually true. Which I guess is comforting to a certain extent. Yet a little unsettling at the same time.

I’m happy to report that I have gotten over my heartbreak that was caused by the country of Europe oh so many years ago (or so it seems). Actually, that isn’t the best way to put it. I will never “get over it”…that experience will always hold a very, very special place in my heart. I think about it almost every day. But in a less psychotic sort of way. I reflect on it as a once in a lifetime moment that I was extremely lucky to experience. But even though my thought process is far more mellow now, years removed from the moment, I often find that I still feel sad when I think about it. But it’s a sweet sadness…a sadness laced with the happiness of a fond and wonderful memory.

These days I find myself having the same intense and drastic feelings when I think about the city of Boston. A city that I still call home. A city that I have come to love more than I ever could have possibly imagined. A city that gets me. And vice versa. I know that must sound crazy. But I never claimed not to be crazy…

But seriously, how ridiculous is it that I find myself missing a place I haven’t even left yet?

I have had some pretty incredible love affairs with places – JMU, Europe (Antwerp, Belgium in particular)…and now Boston. These affairs have been far more intense, far more meaningful and have had a far greater influence on me than any relationship I’ve ever had with a person. Correction: these affairs have had a far greater influence on me than any romantic relationship I’ve ever had with a person.

Perhaps that’s why when I fall in love with a place, I fall hard.

Cities are fantastic lovers. They don’t cheat. They are full of surprises. And they never say goodbye. I’m always the one to end the relationship.

And yet, I’m always the one to feel the heartbreak afterwards. Or in this case, with Boston, before. Which is exactly what causes me to be utterly petrified of severing this love.