THE PLAN

Hi Liz,
It was really great to see you again.
On a Friday, the thirteenth of all days.¹

The moment I saw you 12 years felt like nothing. After our date, I lay in bed in that crossover state between awake and sleep, and my mind replayed our evening together like a dream, only to realize that it had actually happened. And since coming back to New Brunswick, I’ve been looking back on those three days we spent together, and the whole weekend feels like some grand hallucination. When I bought the concert tickets, I remember imagining what you would look like listening to Remi Wolf at the Orpheum. When I booked the Tesla, I imagined picking you up and driving you to Horseshoe Bay for lunch on a sunny afternoon. But my favourite moment of the weekend I never predicted: On our last evening together, when I went to meet you, you were reading Nataniel West on your apartment stoop, and when you noticed me approaching, you looked up, smiled and kissed me, and I got a glimpse of what it would be like to be your boyfriend.

So why can’t we date…

For me there is only one issue:

1. The distance

For you there are only two:

1. Liz delusion
2. The distance

The funny thing about the “Liz delusion” is that it is a Catch-22: If we lived in the same city, delusion wouldn’t be an issue; we’d just be dating, right? But if I were to reconcile the distance between us right away (like moving back to Vancouver), it would only prove that I’m delusional, as moving hastily across the country for a girl that I’ve only been on a couple of dates with would be the actions of an impulsive, crazy person. It would also signal a person who, now in his middle age, might not be so much of a catch if he can just pull anchor because he has little to no roots he’s managed to establish in half of a lifetime.

But what if the next stage of this plan made perfect sense?

What if I rented out my house and moved to Squamish for three months and actually made money on the rent difference between my house and the apartment I’m renting while we figured out this dating thing?² And what if Squamish was a slight tweak to the idea I came up with that I discussed with you in Vancouver about moving to Vancouver Island to be closer to my nephews and brother that I kind of abandoned to have this fantasy of delivering you a bagel? The thing is, The Plan can be altered and tweaked, and events, phone calls, selfies (never any taken under duress, of course), trips (like September 13) and random package deliveries can be added or deleted based on how we feel. Nothing here is set in stone, and for this to work and for us to foster the relationship I think we’re capable of having, I think we need to proceed in a balanced and measured way based on how each of us feels.

When we last talked on the phone, I mentioned that my head oscillates between thinking this crazy idea could never work and thinking there’s no possible way it can fail. You said you felt the same way and mentioned taking a late-night walk. I’ve thought a lot about these two extremes since then, and I’ve come up with this: When I feel distant from you, I feel like it can never actually happen, and when I feel close to you, I feel like this is going to work.

And for me, each of these outcomes are totally ok.

Because here’s the funny thing Liz: In my mind, I’ve already won.

I’ve made it so much further than I could have possibly imagined since we said to each other:³

When I first started writing The Plan I didn’t expect that there would be more. You were always “the girl that got away” for me, and I always wanted to tell you that. I saw The Plan as my opportunity to do that and also show that I think you’re special in a neat way. I love that you know you were that girl for me now. It makes me feel great, and as far as I’ve thought this through, right up until the point where we are actually boyfriend and girlfriend living together, we could end this experiment at any moment and if in another twelve years when I’m 56 and you are 50, and we find ourselves again in a possibly more sad but similar space where we are both single, I know I’d try to get you to date me again.⁴ In a heartbeat. No matter the distance. Just like every time before.

The last time we were together, between kisses and my Uber arriving, I mentioned that when writing The Plan the universe came up to meet me but that wasn’t entirely true, it was the universe, but more specifically it was you. You make me try harder. I mean, look at what I’m trying to write: I’m trying to write a dream into reality: It’s always been like that with you for me. I get so much joy from squeezing my brain for one cogent idea or creative twist for just the minuscule chance that these words might dance upon your mind and make you go for a midnight walk to think about me⁵. Without you these words and this world do not exist. Without you this story ends. In some other life we are together. In some other universe we’ve been married, separated, and had a messy divorce where we paid lawyers oodles to sort out a shared custody agreement for our temperamental cat and Belgian Malinois. You didn’t even know what one of those were when we started looking for a dog and you only agreed to get one because you knew my heart was set on it. You now know that they’re high strung and require patience but ultimately they’re one of the best kind of dogs you can own.

— R