I will refer to him simply as The Engineer.
Once upon a time, at the vulnerable and starry-eyed age of 25, I got a job onboard cruise ships for a company based in Italy.
It was a magnificent experience. So magnificent, in fact, that I wrote a book about it! It’s currently being edited, and will be published this year. Probably to Amazon. Will keep you posted. Let me know here if you’re interested in pre purchasing this masterpiece.
Anyway, it was upon my hiring that I fell into the lusty, sexy and seductive world of Italian men. I loved them, and they loved me. (I know. They love everyone. But the sentence fits.)
Of all those Latin suitors, there was one who really stole my heart.
His name was….
No I’m not telling you. I will refer to him simply as The Engineer.
Oh The Engineer. I can still remember with precision the first time I laid eyes on him. We were at the onboard bar on the lower deck, accessible only by crew. His chiseled jaw, deeply tanned skin and small, athletic frame popped into my peripheral vision. When I turned to give him a good look, I fell deep into his dark, almond shaped eyes and blindingly white teeth with those slightly sharpened canines that gave him an irresistible and animalistic edge. I was absolutely hooked.
Unfortunately his girlfriend showed up a mere 12 seconds later. Leapt right into his muscular arms. She was tall, beautiful and Argentinian. I hated her.
That was that.
I didn’t even see him again. Finished my contract shortly thereafter with not so much as a glimpse at that radiant Italian officer.
Later that year, I embarked on a new ship. For a variety of overly-dramatic reasons, I wasn’t excited about it. Just didn’t want to be there. On my first day, as I unpacked my suitcase to settle in my new cabin, I cried. With a puffy face and red eyes, I had to exit my room and report for duty.
I stumbled into the corridor, a hot mess.
There he was.
The Engineer.
Standing against the wall. One foot casually crossed in front of the other. All-white uniform with Officer stripes. Chewing on a toothpick. We locked eyes.
HE WINKED AT ME.
I nearly fainted.
And that was that.
Within a few days, The Engineer and I started a love affair that I will never forget. (Unless something lamentable happens that wipes my memory clean. It’s the only way I will ever un-remember.)
We frolicked on the beaches of Cadiz together. Lingered over crisp wine and fresh fish in Lisbon. Smoked joints in the tiny bathroom of his cabin and talked about God. Strolled the promenade in Naples, hand in hand. Sipped aperol spritzes on the top deck of the ship while listening to the Mediterranean’s thundering waves and looking at the stars.
We were sooo in love.
Until he wasn’t.
And that was that.
When I realized he didn’t feel the same, I turned to stone. My heart shattered into a million tiny crystalline pieces. What made him decide so abruptly that he didn’t want me? What went wrong?
For the short amount of time we spent as a couple, it took me muchlonger to get over it. I was so fragile and weak from his rejection, I thought I would never survive another breakup as long as I lived. In my 20-something-year-old mind, I would NEVER like ANYONE the way I liked him and I would NEVER subject myself to that pain again, EVER.
But as it goes, slowly but surely I managed to get over it.
Seven years later, I went to Procida with my friend Erica. Procida is a very small island that sits in the glistening Bay of Naples. It’s sandwiched between Ischia and the mainland, only accessible by ferry.
We spent a fabulous day biking and drinking and eating and exploring. So fabulous that by the time we got back to the port to catch our return ferry to Naples, it had already set sail.
There wasn’t much to do but wait for the next one. We relaxed by the bustling bayside, snacking on potato chips and olives, drinking spritzes. (Damn I miss Italy.) Erica was telling me a story as I contemplated the local life here. People were in constant movement, talking and walking and biking…
Biking…
My mind snapped into a black hole of absolute darkness. My fingers felt numb and my spine started to tingle. Erica’s chatter disappeared from my mental space as my entire being was sucked into a vacuum of confusion.
There he was.
The Engineer.
Pedaling alongside the bay, on a black bike.
I couldn’t talk. My lips wouldn’t move. I couldn’t hear. My ears went full deaf. I couldn’t even hold my drink, my extremities were jelly.
He rode away. With my breath, I returned to the world.
I was whole again.
There is beauty in rejection. Indeed it is one of the worst feelings in life. Yet it’s necessary. It’s growth, it’s confidence, it’s power. It can’t be feared.
What are you holding back from because you’re avoiding rejection?
For me, it’s been publishing a book. An underlying discomfort in sharing a part of my life to an audience that might not like it.
But I know (through previous rejection) that whatever happens, I’ll survive and come out stronger, more confident and more powerful as a result.
So will you.
With love,
Bethany
