boyfriends

Reflections on Sorrow and Happiness Past

Tara Taghizadeh

My father sits back trying to recall my first walk across the tightrope, the initial plunge, the consequent falls, however you want to mark the spot. Perhaps I was never steady, thrown off course long ago. My mother, refusing to allow my faith to disappear, repeats a story I have often heard: I was dying inside her and just when doctor, nurse, and family gave up, I didn’t. Instead, I chose to cry and scream and claim my place among my race. She smiles as she tells this as if to say, you have always defeated the worst.

My Surprise in Getting Married at 49

Eric Green

What I envisioned in my future retirement years was moving south to an efficiency apartment in Miami Beach, where I figured there’d be lots of other old single guys like me enjoying the sunshine and beach. I didn’t consider myself much of a catch because I was cynical about love, and especially since I dressed so poorly in sweatshirts and ragged jeans--but ironically, what I wore did lead to romance. I credit my 20-year-old winter overcoat for that.

 

Searching for Mr. Right

Tara Taghizadeh

There was the good-looking freelance writer who lived in Georgetown who swept me off my feet, and with whom I enjoyed a whirlwind, and mainly physical, romance. And the nice but eccentric librarian whom I knew briefly, who on our first date invited me to watch an obscure film, which he later said was “a test” to see if I would pass. There was the Stanford graduate student who turned out to be untrustworthy, crass, and lacked emotional integrity.

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