Meet me in L.A.?

I CHANGED MY MIND ABOUT LONG-DISTANCE ROMANCES

- BY RICHARD GREENBERG

(KIMBERLY ELLIOTT For The Times)

TWAS SUNDAY morning. I shivered from the rain and entered John O’Groats on Pico Boulevard. The owner greeted me as I headed for a seat at the crowded counter. A few of the regulars nodded in my direction.

I was four months past the bruising crash of a long-distance romance, armed with a new vow: No more cross-country heartbreak. While the ex-love of my life was back with her ex-beau in Michigan enjoying Mackinac Island fudge, I was ready to bury all regret and rethink my vow over a fruitless bowl of steel-cut oats.

I had met Renée the previous month during a three-week consulting project in Washington, D.C. The all-consuming emotion of being swept away by a beautiful, intelligent and compassionate person collided with my self-inflicted vow. In the throes of cognitive dissonance, I ignored the vow and fell in love with Renée. I returned to L.A. but only after securing a promise she would visit soon.

Thankfully Renée came to L.A. for a weeklong work assignment. Our plan was simple: After breakfast, I would meet her at her hotel, and together we would spend the day exploring the sights and experiences that L.A. had to offer.

I scanned nearby tables for friends but was distracted by a woman quickening her pace toward the only available stool at the counter. Renée? What is she doing here? A man with a cane, a few steps ahead of her, tapped a steady claim to the prize. She slowed her walk, resigned to a second-place finish and nowhere to sit. Her lips pressed in a rueful grin.