An Unfinished Love Story: Part 1 "My One in a Million"

The story of us began on May 27, 2020.

I was in Savannah with two of my girlfriends over Memorial Day weekend. Just a few weeks earlier, on May 5, I had gotten out of a horribly toxic relationship that ended in a bad breakup. That Savannah trip was my first time doing anything social after it all fell apart. I needed it more than I realized at the time. I felt excited to be somewhere new, to be in a fun city, to be distracted by good food, drinks, and laughter instead of heartbreak.

I was posting on Instagram all weekend. Stories of us walking around the city, drinking cocktails, sitting by the water. I felt lighter. Not healed. Just lighter. Like maybe something new could exist for me again.

On Sunday, May 27, while we were driving back to Atlanta from Savannah, I got a DM from a guy named Scott Pinel.

The name wasn’t unfamiliar. I had heard of him around Buckhead. We had a ton of mutual friends but had never actually met. I also remembered that a girl I used to work with at a salon had dated him briefly, and from what I could recall, his reputation was not exactly great. The message said, “Hey, I used to live in Savannah. If you guys need any good recs on what to do, let me know.”

I didn’t respond right away. I didn’t think much of it. Later that night, I replied and said thank you, but we had already gotten back home. That could have been the end of it.

It wasn’t.

We started chatting back and forth over the next few days. Nothing heavy. Nothing serious. Just easy conversation. I wasn’t looking for a relationship. I definitely wasn’t looking for a boyfriend. And I definitely was not looking to jump into anything after what I had just gone through. But despite what I had heard about him, we connected quickly. Easily. Effortlessly.

I told myself that at most, we could be friends. I enjoyed talking to him. I enjoyed his sense of humor. I enjoyed how natural it felt. And honestly, I was happy to just leave it there.

Two weeks later, he asked me to come over to his townhouse.

It wasn’t a date. Under normal circumstances, I would not have agreed to that. But something about him intrigued me. I didn’t feel nervous. I didn’t feel pressure. I just felt curious.

I remember pulling up to his place and thinking nothing of it. I walked inside, and almost immediately, I felt like I had known him forever. It’s hard to explain, but there was no awkwardness. No getting to know you energy. No trying to impress each other. I felt completely comfortable. Completely safe. He was hilarious. Absurd. So ridiculous in the best way.

Being in his presence felt right.

After that night, we continued spending time together. We grabbed dinner. We watched movies. We just hung out. I made it very clear to him that I did not want a relationship. I wanted to keep whatever this was very casual. I remember saying it more than once. I wanted no confusion.

At some point early on, he looked at me and said, “We ARE going to date. I’m going to prove to you that you should be with me, and we ARE going to fall in love.”

I laughed. I shook my head. I said, “Whatever you say.”

There was no way I was just going to jump into something else. Not after what I had just been through. I didn’t trust myself. I didn’t trust men. I didn’t trust timing. I didn’t trust my heart.

But Scott was Scott.

And he did exactly what he said he would do.

He showed up. Consistently. He proved to me that he was worthy of dating. And somehow, without me even realizing it was happening, I fell in love. Fast. It felt like I didn’t have a choice. Like it was inevitable. Like it was written somewhere long before either of us decided anything.

He was everything I didn’t even know I needed. Attentive. Kind. Sweet. So silly. He wasn’t just someone I was dating. He was becoming my best friend. My compass north. Everything about it felt right.

Three months into dating, we both knew. Without question. This was it. He was my person. And I was his.

We moved in together over Christmas of 2020.

I know that sounds fast. It was fast. But with Scott and me, everything moved quickly because it felt so certain. We didn’t question it. We didn’t overthink it. We just knew.

That Christmas was the best Christmas I have ever had.

As a hairstylist, the holiday season is my busiest time of year. By the time Christmas comes around, I am completely exhausted. I work longer days, extra days, and by the end of it, I have nothing left. Because of that, I never really enjoyed Christmas as an adult. I never decorated. I never put up a tree. It all felt like too much effort.

Scott wanted to change that.

One night in mid December, I came home from work and walked into the townhouse. I immediately heard Christmas trap music blasting through the sound bar. I walked upstairs into the living room and saw Scott standing there with our three dogs and the most beautifully decorated Christmas tree I had ever seen. He had spent the entire day decorating while I was at work so that I could come home to a surprise.

I couldn’t stop smiling.

I picked up one of the dogs, grabbed Scott, and we danced around the living room to Christmas trap music. That moment felt like home. That was Scott. He always wanted to make things special. He always wanted me to feel cared for.

Scott and I genuinely liked each other. We loved spending time together. We enjoyed each other’s company. There was never a dull moment because we were both so silly. We rarely argued. We bickered, sure, but we shared the same moral compass. We shared values. We understood each other.

Our love was pure. Honest. Authentic.

I had never felt that before. And I’m not sure Scott had either.

He was the person I had been waiting for. The person I always wanted to be with but never truly believed existed for me.

We built a life quickly. We traveled almost every month. Amazing destinations. Amazing dinners. The best group of friends. He was my everything. I finally felt like I had found my home.

We called each other BB. He always told me I was the goat. Greatest of all time. All of our friends started calling us the BB Goats. Every time he called me b or bb, my heart melted.

We had the same routine every single night. I am not a big cuddler. I am extremely particular about my sleep. I need the air at or below 68 degrees. I need complete darkness. I cannot have any noise other than my white noise machine.

Scott was a night owl. He always went to sleep about an hour after me. Because of my sleep rules, I would not let him keep the TV on after I was ready to go to bed. When I was ready, I would say, “BB, go night night.”

He would roll over, turn away from me, pull YouTube up on his phone and say, “Bbbbbb, you go night night.”

I would try to fall asleep, but the brightness on his phone was never low enough. So I would sit up and yell, “BB, brightness.”

He would finally turn it down and say, “Okay bb, geez. I love you. Go night night now.”

I would say, “I love you, b.”

Every single night. Same script. Same routine.

Looking back, it was ridiculous. But I looked forward to it every night.

We weren’t perfect. No relationship is. Most of our fights were because Scott would get carried away on nights out with his guy friends. He would tell me he was coming home and then show up hours later. Or he would get annoyed if I asked him to leave early. He was a lover of life, and never wanted the party to end.

Scott was pure joy.

Trying to describe him to someone who never met him is almost impossible. He was full of energy and love and also the most absurdly idiotic human I have ever known. The things that came out of his mouth would blow my mind.

He was carefree. Irresponsible. He spent money frivolously. He played golf on Friday’s instead of working. If a new car or gadget caught his eye, he bought it. And somehow, everything always worked out for him.

He always had a smile on his face. Even on his worst days. Every time he saw you, even if it was just the next day, he greeted you like he hadn’t seen you in years. “Heyyyy dude.” “What’s up girl.” Biggest hug.

He never met a stranger. He had the largest circle of friends I’ve ever seen. And he genuinely cared about every single one of them. He kept up with everyone. He showed up.

He was the life of every party. Not just in a loud way, but in a warm way. He made people feel good just by being around them.

Scott lived a life full of love, happiness, and positive energy effortlessly. His imperfections were what made him perfect.

He was one in a million.

And I had no idea how little time we had left.