From Heartbreak to Hope: How Love Surprised Me Again

It was my final year at Van Nuys High. I had noticed her, particularly because two of my friends were infatuated with her best friend who paraded around the quad of the San Fernando Valley high school with an enticing demeanor. Completely smitten, my friends did everything possible to linger nearby her, and I tagged along.

One Friday afternoon, Mike, Larry, and I were driving to Ensenada to surf through the weekend. We turned right off Ventura Boulevard onto Sepulveda Boulevard. By sheer chance, we noticed the object of their fascination walking toward the hills with two other girlfriends. A wild, screeching U-turn later, we were all chatting, and the girls invited us to my future wife’s home and pool.

We obliged and drove up Woodcliff Road, forgetting completely about picking up another Mike at his parents’ garage for our journey. By the pool, I found myself gazing into the deep brown eyes of my future wife alongside her bleach-blond companion, while my friends endeavored to appear composed next to the girl they had desired for much of the previous school semester.

I experienced a revelation, realizing she was the most stunningly beautiful girl my 17-year-old self had ever encountered. I wanted to forgo the Mexico trip but couldn’t persuade the others. So, hours later, we finally set off to pick up the other Mike. All weekend I fantasized about Monday when I would see her again in school.

The girl with dark brown eyes and I eventually tied the knot — a marriage that endured 32 years and three children but concluded when she passed away from breast cancer in 2012.

Years of confusion followed. I was heartbroken yet discovered remarkable therapy through yoga and time by the ocean. Eventually, I began dating — with month-long flings as well as some lasting a year or longer. My go-to dating venues typically lined the Venice stretch along Abbot Kinney Boulevard, particularly Wabi-Sabi or the Tasting Kitchen. However, my heart was genuinely not seeking fleeting encounters. It longed for another chance at 30 years filled with profound, magical, all-encompassing love. Friends insisted I was being unrealistic. I claimed it was complicated.

I had long declined to be set up, politely turning down any efforts by friends and family to orchestrate dates or suggest meeting this or that woman. Additionally, the notion of a dating application was not on the table. No offense, but I was lucky enough to meet women through different means. Nonetheless, nothing resonated. Not until the day when a woman from a past infatuation introduced me to Michele.

For some inexplicable reason, I willingly accepted her invitation. Perhaps it was my mindset at the time. I can’t quite clarify it. Also, it wasn’t even a date. Or so I reassured myself. A dinner for three, without even having seen Michele’s appearance. All I was aware of was that my ex had cryptically mentioned she was “Filipino or something … Asian anyway,” without me asking.

I arrived early, so I parked outside the restaurant, which was near the place Michele managed. On a whim, I walked down to the small shop, peered inside, and spotted a woman who matched the description. Still, I opted to wait outside until the customers had departed, allowing her to be alone since she was about to close. I even had time to return to my vehicle and change from my T-shirt into a fresh white dress shirt I had brought with me.

I entered with a smile, introduced myself, and inquired if she was Michele. I realize it was somewhat of an unconventional approach to just intrude, but, seemingly unfazed, she smiled back. There was an immediate organic connection. We conversed for at least 15 minutes, and the dialogue flowed as if we had known each other for years.

At the restaurant, we discussed everything. The past and present. My ex moved over to chat with some friends while Michele and I forged a connection in each other’s eyes, delving into personal emotions right away as if it was the most natural thing to do. I’ve never known any other way, and her heart, as she later shared, appeared to blossom in a manner her nearly 60-year-old well-traveled soul had never experienced.

Michele kissed me as we separated. (She still insists that I kissed her.) Four days later, we embarked on our first real date. This all happened right before Christmas, and shortly thereafter, I was taking a trip to Sweden. I had known her only a week, but as she drove me to the airport, I asked her to accompany me to a Jason Isbell concert at Walt Disney Concert Hall two weeks later. She agreed.

Once reunited, I gifted her a book of mine with the inscription: “You’ve inscribed your name on my heart” … and here we are five years later and married. Her Taiwanese heritage and my Swedish background have forged a foundation that thrives and flourishes beyond all barriers, cherishing what SoCal and the world have to offer.

All relationships face challenges. Michele firmly believes they strengthen you. Adapt, gain understanding and integrity, yet embrace loving compromise. That’s progression. Love transcends it all if you invest in it.

The author is a writer who has traveled between Maui, Sherman Oaks, and Stockholm while producing radio and television in collaboration with the BBC. Currently, his company publishes a current events quiz for schools.

L.A. Affairs chronicles the pursuit of romantic love in all its splendid expressions in the L.A. area, and we want to hear your genuine story. We pay $400 for a published essay. Email LAAffairs@latimes.com. Submission guidelines can be found here. You can find previous columns here.