The Last Date

a true story

(Want to hear me read this to you? Just click the play button.)

This is a true story.

Our last date was on March 12, after an on-again-off-again relationship that spanned years—decades actually. But before I tell you why it ended, let me first tell you how it began.

I met Franklin when I was 17. It was my father who introduced us; he’d met Franklin at a work event or conference of some sort. That’s a detail I don’t quite remember. But I do remember how excited my dad was about him. They became fast friends, spending lots of time together. I’d often see Frank riding shotgun in my dad’s Oldsmobile Ninety-Eight. To be honest, when I met Frank, I really didn’t think much of him. He seemed a bit plain, a bit boring. It would be his dependability, though, that would keep me hanging on to him for far longer than I would have imagined.

Our love affair started my senior year of high school. The getting-to-know-you phase was fast and furious and, soon, we were practically inseparable. While many people question how a relationship will fare during that high-school-to-college transition, I wasn’t worried one bit. I knew what he and I had was real.

My tastes and style began to change at this point in my life and while I adored Franklin for exactly who he was (he showed no signs of changing), I wanted to dress him up a bit. Jackets seemed the obvious choice. I loved how he looked in flannel (it was the 90s, after all), but when he slipped into his leather jacket, well, I couldn’t take my hands off of him.

Days, weeks, months of the calendar kept flipping by, one by one, and Frankie and I were going strong. We seemed to bring out the best in each other. After all this time, I knew everything there was to know about him. Nobody, and I mean nobody, was ever going to tear us apart.

Our love was enviable. I had friends say things to me like, “He really does make you happy, doesn’t he? Always by your side. Where can I get a Franklin for myself?” These sorts of compliments told me what I already knew: What he and I had wasn’t your run-of-the-mill romance. No, we were special. You couldn’t get this type of relationship off just any store shelf. No way—we were special order.

In my early 20s, though, I began to get curious about my life. A college degree in hand, the world looked vast and full of adventure. I didn’t want to be confined to Frankie anymore. Despite his dependability, that special way he kept me calm and my brain from spiraling into overwhelm, I started to look longingly at others.

This was the time in my life to experiment (I didn’t in college because I was a good girl). I wanted to see what else was out there. I didn’t even tell Franklin why. After his years of devotion, I just…left him. And I didn’t even think about him for a years. I was out there, living my best life, dipping in and out of new relationships. Many were trysts filled with passion as the ball dropped on New Year’s Eve, but rarely did I keep them long enough to celebrate by Valentine’s Day. The winter holidays would roll around, making me want another shot at love, and the pattern would repeat itself. I had a new one by my side watching Dick Clark’s Rocking Eve once more.

Yet, none of them were like Frank. I never cared to know another like I did him. I knew he would take me back, no questions asked. And he did, not even asking where I’d been or who I’d been with.

Things were good for a while. We fell back into a similar, comfortable routine. It was great for a month or two, but there was no doubt that no matter how much I loved him, I was different now. What I needed as a 17 year old was not the same as what I needed as an adult. I didn’t want to be confined the way Franklin confined me.

I used to relish the way he encouraged me to be organized, to write things down because my memory would often fail me. But his encouragement started to feel more and more like control. He wanted me to let him know when and where I was every single hour of the day. And he even wanted me to track everything: what I ate, how many hours I slept, how many books I read and what I thought about them.

I didn’t love him how I used to love him.

Then, when my dad, the same man who introduced us all those years ago, had gone into the hospital with some serious health conditions, the thought of to-do lists and habit tracking felt unimportant—frivolous even. What’s the saying? God laughs when we are busy making plans? Well, on March 12, I took a good look at Franklin. This would be the last time I’d see him. This would be our very last date together.

And so, on that day, I closed my FranklinPlanner, and still haven’t looked back.