It is inevitable. It will happen. We will run into each other. It will be New York summer after all —my favorite place, space and season. And you know me well and my need to make every summer-day my own. Daily jaunts into the city to wander aimlessly down streets I know like the back of my hand, or new ones that I absorb with bright, hungry eyes. Visits to the museums, art exhibits, new restaurants, free music and of course my favorite place that I had yet to carry you to: Central Park by the lake off of West 72nd Street.

But we will not meet at those places. I claim those spaces as my own. We will meet at that one summer party, on a rooftop maybe, where beautiful women are dressed in colorful flowy dresses and sandals,. Where men smile in their best shirts and shades. Drinks will be in our hands and as bodies move to Soca music. We will laugh and chat with our friends and reconnect with those we have not seen since before the winter. I know that I will be quite engrossed in conversation with my group of friends…maybe some silly conversation on the party itself or laughing as we recall something we would have done the day before. And I will throw my head back in laughter at something that will be said and as I do this and I open my eyes, our eyes will somehow meet in the party (because these things always happen to me…this is how we met, remember?).

But I will not hold your gaze as long as I did he first time. Instead I will avert my eyes amid the pain I will now feel in the depths of my stomach. The thing is that I am over you but…it will be you standing just some feet away from me. I will continue laughing with my friends though I would barely hear a word they are saying because my heart will be beating too fast and too hard — blocking my ears and my throat so that no words can escape. I won’t give anything away that affirms that I have seen you. However, curiosity will get the better of me and I will want one more look at you to see if you are with her, or another “her.” So, when I think that enough time has passed, I will causally sweep my eyes through the crowd and tactfully look in the direction I first saw you, but you will no longer be there. At this moment I will carefully whisper to my friends: “he is here!” I know my friends. They will make sure I am ok and remind me to ignore you and continue to have a great time. They will encourage me: “You are gorgeous and smart and kind and about to start a fabulous career, you are almost a doctor for Pete’s sake…he doesn’t deserve you…” I know they are right, and my heart will return to a slightly normal pace as I remind myself of how you made me question my beauty and intelligence as our relationship soured. How you made me feel worthless and I literally had to pick myself up off the floor, wipe my tears and build myself up again to a point where I could love my self and love New York summers and that ‘Q’ train ride over the Manhattan Bridge…things that you made me begin to fear.

Without fear now, I will go to the bar to get drinks for myself and my friends and I know this is where I will bump into you.

This is how we met. Remember?

Knowing you and the regret you said you felt that last time we spoke when I told you to never contact me again, you will try to chat with me. First, a hello and then, a surprisingly positive comment on my body and outfit, the very things that I discovered at the end of our relationship were what truly mattered to you. You will have caught me by surprise and it will take a few seconds to get over this and few more to decide if I want to answer you. I know myself. I will say “hi” and as I look at your face, I will remember when we first met and how we danced to this same Soca music in the summer of 2012. I will remember that you gave me a ride home, and afterwards there were dinner dates and beach dates that seemed like they would never end. Then I will quickly recall how you pulled away and told me that I was “simple.”

Simple. Simple. Simple, simple… simple. That word replayed in my mind for months after we ended because I never knew “simple” was a thing to hate and fear and especially something to be “turned off” by. That word again will echo in my mind and although you will think my initial hello means that we are ‘cool’ and we can have a conversation, my drinks will be ready and I will pay my own tab.

So, when we inevitably meet, surrounded by Soca and beautiful swaying bodies (including mine which I love), I will collect my drinks at the bar and because a man like you does not deserve to be in my presence, amid the knot in my stomach, I will walk away…from you. Fearlessly.

Aleah