The Last Place I Saw Ms. NYU

Beesley ‘27

The energy was thrilling, everyone was hot, and the music was electrifying. As I stepped into Henrietta Hudson with Sara, my best friend and a newly single lesbian, we were ready to meet our future wives. One caught my eye as we scoped out the bar for possible people to flirt with. Virgo was a beautiful masc from Yonkers; I introduced myself, and we began to talk about our sexuality, star signs, and where we are from. Although we exchanged numbers, it was clear we would never see each other again. There is some sadness in these goodbyes; I’ve come to appreciate the artistic beauty of impermanence with each encounter that can’t be replicated. 

Sara and I left the bar and headed to the train station. I realized I had had many nights similar to this one, during which I learned different things about myself and the world. For example, Mr. Australia taught me that Boston was beautiful at night when he took me to the top of the roof of the Boston University computer science building, and Mr. YouTube taught me to trust my gut about dating profiles. 

  This year, there was a more significant goodbye that was bittersweet: my last encounter with my first girlfriend. I’m prompted to reflect on my experience with lesbian breakups. The first step often involves believing you can be friends after the breakup. This often leads to blurred lines, including spiraling into nostalgia, keeping the hope alive, and accidentally making out. 

The next step is realizing you guys need time apart and go non-contact. This often happens when one of you starts seeing someone else, the friends step in, or you are tired of going in circles. 

The last and most challenging step is coming to terms with each other, whether it is rebuilding a genuine friendship or co-existing in a world with their presence without their support. My first love and I managed to rekindle a friendship years after dating, supporting each other through life and our romantic endeavors. However, as she became more serious with her current significant partner, our friendship created problems in their relationship. 

So, I decided to take a step back and asked to hang out one last time. She agreed, and we spent the night walking around in the city. She read me a letter, which I asked for, but she refused. Instead, she wanted it ingrained in my memory. We said our goodbyes, and I headed back to school. 

Never seeing someone again after truly loving them is like walking away from an unfinished masterpiece. You spent so much time creating something together, but life forced you to leave it incomplete. It is in its simplicity and inability to encapsulate the countless things one wanted to say; it is enough to tell a story. 

Saying goodbye to someone we care about significantly impacts our identity. When we leave someone meaningful and commit to never reuniting, we are not just parting ways with that person but also with who we used to be. I was not just saying goodbye to her but also the fifteen-year-old figuring out her identity, the naive sixteen-year-old learning about being in love, the seventeen-year-old who dreamed of being an actress, the eighteen-year-old navigating adulthood, and the nineteen-year-old who did not want to say goodbye — neither to anyone nor to herself.