The Neuroscientist

"Timing is a hell of a thing. In the end, that’s all it comes down to. The potency of an attraction or the purity of a connection mean very little if you’re on separate journeys."

- Beau Taplin

As I reeled from the end of my relationship and struggled to get my weepy butt off the floor to look for a new apartment, a friend one day insisted on dragging me out to Sheep Meadow in Central Park. For those unfamiliar, it’s a giant lawn where young people tan, drink rosé, and play games like Frisbee and Spikeball (a curious blend of a trampoline and small balls reminiscent of volleyball—truly a sight to behold). Despite my initial hesitation, she insisted I bring along some fruit, don a bathing suit, and not neglect the sunscreen. Simple directives, or so I thought.

Little did I anticipate the abundance of sun-kissed, shirtless male figures darting about (I'm only human, after all). Although my friend graciously invited me to join her Spikeball team, I opted instead to recline on the grass, relishing the warmth of the sun and discreetly appreciating the eye candy around me. Before long, I found myself graciously accepting a glass of wine from one of her friends, my observations now veiled behind sunglass lenses. For those unfamiliar with my tendencies, I must admit to occasionally indulging in the art of subtle creeping.

It wasn't long before one of these bronzed gentlemen caught wind of my creeping and initiated a conversation, asking how I knew our mutual friend. Conversation flowed easily, and before I knew it, we were debating whether two main characters on Game of Thrones would fall in love (a debate I regrettably lost several months later, but that's a tale for another time). He had nice eyes, a good smile, and didn’t look half bad without a shirt. I was intrigued.

“I have a Game of Thrones watching party every week with my friends,” he mentioned with a smile. “You should come by sometime.”

The appeal of his abs and new friends was too much to resist, so I exchanged numbers with him under the hot July sunlight.

Unfortunately, my apartment move kept me from attending his GoT nights initially, but we started chatting about episodes as they aired, sharing opinions and making ludicrous bets (which I consistently lost). Finally, when I was settled in my new place, we made plans to watch the show together. As I arrived at his Upper East Side apartment, I was surprised to find only him, a large bottle of Malbec, and his cat. Yes, a cat.

Now, as a cat owner myself, I’ve always held the belief that single men with cats might not be the best match for me. I can't explain why, but I've noticed they tend to be more emotional than I’m used to, and I prefer being the emotional one in a relationship. Despite my reservations, I tried to push past them and enjoy our evening.

He mentioned his friends were out of town at a medical event because they were all involved in the medical field, including him – he was training to become a brain surgeon at a nearby hospital.

We watched the episode, made educated guesses, and then engaged in a lively debate about the best literary quotes, another area where he impressed me. After a few glasses of Malbec, a quiet, electric moment sparked.

“Can I kiss you?” he asked, making my pulse quicken. I nodded, he leaned in, and so began my summer romance with a young, handsome surgeon.

To be completely honest, I never imagined myself dating someone younger and in the medical field. I’ve always envisioned my future partner to be like me – unpredictable, adventurous, and kind. Plus, I wasn’t fully recovered from my recent breakup. So, I tried to be upfront about my feelings.

“I want to move to Boston one day to finish my residency,” he mentioned over dinner. “I feel like I’m ready to date someone seriously.”

Sensing this was the right moment to clarify my thoughts, I leaned in and said, “You know I’m not ready to seriously date anyone right now, right?”

He froze. “Well, yeah, but we’re taking this slow.”

“Right, but what I’m saying is, I don’t want to date anyone seriously right now, slow or not.”

He stared at me for a moment before sipping his wine. “Is it because I’m younger? Because all of my girlfriends have been older than me.”

Ouch.

“No,” I replied honestly. “It’s because my heart is still healing. I need time.”

When we parted ways that night, things felt off, but I figured it was a lot for a nice guy like him to process. I assumed I’d been clear with him, but we continued to spend time together. One night, I agreed to meet him after having drinks with someone else. Upon arrival, I sensed something was wrong.

He had arrived early and realized I had been on a prior date. There was tension, and he was visibly upset. I tried to calm him down, but as the night progressed, his anger grew.

“I’ve been honest with you,” I explained while standing at the bar. Note: drinking and heightened emotions never mix well.

“I guess I just thought we were something different,” he said loudly, refusing to look at me. My friends at the bar stared. “I thought we were slowly working towards something more.”

I struggled to make my point clear. “A man broke my heart after continually deceiving me. I’m not ready to invest my heart in one specific place again yet. I need time. I can’t be your girlfriend.”

He looked hurt, and finally said, “You’ve made yourself more than clear now. I get it.”

He left, looking less like that bright happy man than I remembered meeting on the lawn in Central Park and slowly but surely, our contact became less and less until we just lost touch. Reflecting, I wondered what was wrong with me – here was a good guy who wanted to date me exclusively, and I couldn’t commit. In truth, things in life are rarely that black and white. Sometimes, a great thing can be right in front of you, but there’s just no way your heart can take it on.

Love and relationships are funny like that. In the end, it's all about timing.