Between Ocean Drive and Collins Ave., you’ll discover who’s truly for you.

I like to admire the waves without being swept up in them. Observing myself and the world whilst remaining detached from either.

And one thing I’ve noticed about Miami is that it holds endless opportunities to put this to practice. Literally and figuratively. As somewhere between high-heels pounding against marble floors of high-end restaurants and lying scantily clad under the beaming sun, I am faced with the tides - and I have to choose how to ride them.

They say this city isn’t good for relationships. How the beautiful weather, overpriced everything, and superficiality seems to rip even the best of friends to fragments. And while it’s “funny” to see it this way, it’s also important to realize what’s truly being shown. Because I see Miami as a mirror - reflecting back to us exactly what we are, and illuminating what we are not in a way that, apparently, nowhere else can.

Cars sped above the speed limit and the road had no sidewalks.

She crossed the street without telling me - the moment I knew I wasn’t the only one annoyed. We were fed up with each other.

Walking a nameless road to Art Basel, I learned first hand that it doesn’t matter how long you’ve known someone - you never truly know them until you’ve traveled with them. And close friends can feel like distant strangers when navigating new places while located on different pages.

The energy was cold as our cocktails, eyes cutting behind the steam of ala carte servings. We survived a private plane tour of the city, temporarily reconnected in a moment of nervousness as the plane left the ground.

And we browsed the many exhibitions for Art Basel, forcing small talk of little words into the space between us. Somehow, we silently agreed not to completely ruin the trip for each other. Or maybe just for ourselves.

And we hugged goodbye at the airport, although what remained of the friendship was left behind in a final moment of passive aggression outside Jaya at the Setai the night before.

Sometimes I mourn the sisterhood I thought it was. But that never existed. It was always exactly what and how it was in Miami, we just didn’t see it clearly until then.

On a hammock under the stars, I wished we could always be this close.

That’s the thing about long distance relationships - the immense pressure to make sure every moment together is flawless because they’re so far and few.

Especially during a global pandemic.

So Miami exposed what would ultimately send the relationship to its demise, but I didn’t see it. My Ray Bans were rose-tinted.

We enjoyed breakfast at Green Street Cafe before walking in and out of shops in the Grove holding hands, and I let go of the back and forths that were required to make this trip happen.

The night fell and the drinks were strong. We blew clouds of hookah smoke into the air, making the neon lights of South Beach hazy. I held my sandals and stood on my tiptoes, slowly sinking into the sand. The sound of the ocean drowned out the sound of our kisses and the many excuses I was fed in the many months between our last time together and now.

My body rested on his, lying atop a hammock in the Standard Hotel and Spa courtyard, slowly blinking up at the stars in the sky framed by the lush greenery of the garden. Feeling his warmth. Feeling us. Just us. And I wished I could have this all the time.

The long distance could have worked if the desire was there to truly bridge it. The love only seemed to reach me in his presence, which I was rarely given. So I was haunted by the question, how can you be both so alone and so in love? because if I can be in love and still be so alone, I’d rather just be alone.

My feet hurt, and the club was refusing us entry.

I missed my bed at the AC Hotel Miami Brickell, but I hoped the city would show us a good time for our last night. And so far, not so good.

After a less than favorable dinner and dessert at Komodo and a long walk in high heels from where the uber dropped us, we stood outside Mr. X contemplating our next steps.

She tapped on her phone and I asked what she wanted to do. She wanted to go in search of the next party. I prefer to let the party find me. And if one wasn’t meeting me anywhere between this spot and the hotel, I wouldn’t be there. So, she wandered a ways away awaiting her ride and I stood alone ordering mine.

And as I daydreamed about hopping in the shower and rubbing my feet together under the plush hotel bed covers, a familiar face broke through the fantasy.

I recognized him from my hometown. “You from Cleveland?” I asked, stopping him in his stride as his attention turned to me.

“Yeah,” he answers. “You going inside?”

“They didn’t let us in.”

He motions for me to follow him.

I glance at my homegirl still standing yards away and consider leaving her there. I didn’t blame her for the consistent attempts to ruin the good vibes - maybe they really didn’t cook her food properly at MILA and the courteous attempts to rectify weren’t sufficient,

maybe her massage at the Fontainebleau really was horrible,

maybe I really was annoying asking what she wanted to do as she rejected all my ideas and held up our night,

and maybe I was being kinda lame by not wanting to go to the next club after being rejected by one already. Maybe from her perspective, the vibes were never great and there was nothing to ruin.

It could be the peace I’d been working so hard to cultivate over the years, with a little help from the past Miami trips where I slowly learned how to maintain it no matter what’s happening around me. It might’ve been the stubborn desire to make sure another blossoming sisterhood didn’t end in this city. Or just wanting to avoid going into this club alone with a group of men I barely knew.

All of the above held weight. So I called her name as I followed the man inside, waving her over with a smile and welcoming her approaching smile in return.

Sometimes we’re forced to balance misunderstandings, and we don’t need to let it all crash to the ground. We just need to remember the effects of being human, and how they show up differently in all of us.

This time, Miami showed me more of someone and I didn’t see incompatibility. I saw it as proof of my ability to hold empathy, and thus maintain my peace. Because it just be like that sometimes.

Maybe Miami isn’t the city where relationships go to die,

it is where the core of connections are revealed.

You see clearly what has always been overlooked, both in others and yourself.

And you can choose what to do with the reflection.

-A

thanks for reading! if you’re more into the trip logistics than my love life lessons, check out this Miami setlist. a curated list of spots + experiences worthy of your energy on your next trip to miami.