TAKING FLIGHT
The time had come. I had to get out of my fortress, this cozy home that had become both my sanctuary and my cage.
But the thought of this very first solo trip terrified me.
I loved playing the hermit, but this damn retirement was throwing everything into a tailspin. I had to prove to myself that I could still pull it off—that I could still function, travel, and actually live.
I, the former flight attendant, the one who spent her life gliding down airplane aisles, sexy and sharp as a tack, now saw myself as a "washed-up old bag" (une vieille sacoche). I didn't have the job anymore, no uniform to keep me standing tall, no role to play. I’d been clinging to that identity for over 30 years.
My biggest fear? Bumping into old colleagues. I was scared to death of seeing my own reflection in their eyes: a woman who’d lost her spark, a ghost of the person I used to be when I was serving the world.
But then, reality hit me: after all those years of hard work and polite smiles, didn't I deserve a break? Wasn't I due to finally enjoy myself, without having to pour a coffee or double-check a seatbelt?
I had to find my guts again. Not the "flight attendant courage" facing turbulence, but the courage of a 66-year-old woman deciding that life doesn't end just because the career path hit a dead end. I had to get out of the house—not to run away from the fake Bon Jovis, but to go meet the only person who actually mattered: myself.
This trip wasn't just a spot on a map; it was about taking back my dignity. I was trading the uniform for freedom, even if my legs were shaking like leaves while I buckled my suitcase. The glorious image of the past clashing with the fear of the present was making me gasp for air.
IT WAS SUFFOCATING ME!
IT WAS NOW OR NEVER! I had to do it to finally make peace with my decision and live my retirement to the fullest.
The familiar hum of the jet engines enveloped me. At 35,000 feet above the Atlantic, time stands still. It is there, in the darkness of the cabin, that the truths we try to outrun finally catch up with us.
I wasn’t an ordinary tourist. Nor was I a naive retiree. In the preceding months, I had blocked dozens of them—"Bryan Adams," "Keanu," and "Bon Jovi." As soon as the words "Apple Card" appeared in the conversation, it was over. I moved on to the next, because the quest to find the real Bon Jovi was the reason I kept playing this cat-and-mouse game. And, of course, there was the idea of shedding light on what really happens in the world of web romance. We always think it won’t happen to us, but despite everything, people are suffering more and more from solitude and isolation. "Love Bombing"—that daily explosion of affection—puts a balm on your life, however small it may be.
Yes, paying for a gym membership, going shopping, or paying a "Yahoo Boy" becomes a very positive emotional support, but what price is a person willing to pay? I was about to find out. My investigation continued.
Blocked. Flushed.
I wasn’t born yesterday, and I could smell trouble from miles away. I had even laughed at the one who showed me a screenshot of his "frozen" bank account displaying millions... as if I would fall for such a crude photo edit. But with Andy, it was different. Or at least, I had decided it would be. Yes, I wanted it to be different.
He had won me over with his poems, his son in danger, his voice in the early morning. He wasn’t an inaccessible star; he was a man in need, a doctor, a lonely hero in Somalia. Despite all my flair as a former flight attendant, despite the warnings in my head, my heart had taken the controls. Yet, a little "old bag" voice kept whispering to me: "Louise, if you stay home, you'll die of doubt. If you go, you'll know." And end it once and for all.
I had given myself until September to finish this online love game. And here I was, early September... "Yes, everything will end as planned," I told myself as I received my passenger tray, tossed onto the table by an old flight attendant. When I saw her, I quickly told myself I had made the right decision. I certainly didn't want to end up like her, continuing to work.
The flight was long. I was sitting in the middle, between a woman and a man who were enraged to have me beside them; they didn't say a word to me the entire trip. I finally had my doubts about: nothing better than meeting in person...
I had to see with my own eyes. I had to confront this Andy, see this son, save him, touch this reality. If it was another lie, I wanted to see it right in my face. I couldn't live in the "maybe" anymore. I had traded my rose garden for a plane ticket to the unknown, with that emergency envelope in my bag, ready for anything to prove I hadn't dreamed all summer for nothing. It was a damn excuse to leave, finally, like a big girl, and face my reality: that even as an "old lady," I was still capable of getting on a plane and living an adventure all alone, just like I used to.
I left for New York, then South Africa for a safari, and from there I was going to hand-deliver the money to little Harrison, who needed it for his monthly essentials. He needed a scholarship. So I told Andy I was going to South Africa and then to Lesotho to give the money to him or his son in person. He just had to come meet me in Lesotho.
During my eight-hour layover at Newark airport, the fake Bon Jovi wrote to me. He was furious that I was leaving to see a "loser" in Africa. I pointed out that Andy was a US Marine, a doctor, that he wasn't a loser, that he loved me, and that he’d better show up at the airport and come on safari with me, or it was over between us. It was at the airport that I wrote a sad song—oh, so sad... but so beautiful. To end it once and for all with the fake Bon Jovi.
HEARTBREAKI
(Text written phonetically)
You had filled up my days, my nights
My heart had never felt so much love
And now this total emptiness
Will kill me slowly every day
(Chorus)
You let me go
All alone
You let me go
Without turning back
To even say goodbye
You didn't give me hope
That you would try to keep me
in your heart
(Verse 2)
What about you?
What about you?
Don't you want my love
we were a team together
(Bridge)
Our fate was to be together
Life made it that we'd fall apart
The unimaginable unfairness
Killed a beautiful love story
(Outro)
I want you to want me, babe
Build our beautiful dreams together
Don't you want that?
we build something strong
we need to over come that
unexpected detour and keep our ship
afloat
Tell me, tell me
If you love me still.
Meanwhile, Andy, on the other end, thought I was a bit senile for spending so much money on a safari. Or was he afraid I would discover the truth? I explained to him that after more than 30 years of work, I deserved a little vacation before becoming an "old bag" retiree sitting at home doing nothing.
I had finally found myself again: the true adventurer. When I stepped onto the plane, I was bursting with excitement. I needed to leave so badly and I had made it happen. The booking, the terminal transfers, and all those long walks through the terminal—you really had to be in shape to go, and I now had proof that I could still do it, that I wasn't so old after all.
I was finally going to get the truth about all these scams, these romantic scammers who throw love bombs at you from morning till night. Was this emotional drug going to make me crack? I had lost my professional prestige identity in all this adjustment chaos. I was still a strong woman and I had seen others before them, but here, I was in a vulnerable situation and I was done being played. If Andy was real, I would have to see it for myself. I swear that in 2025, it’s not easy to tell the real from the fake, and the person-to-person approach is still the best. I was going to prove it to myself and have a pleasant trip after all, combining business with pleasure.
No comments:
Post a Comment