A friend of mine a few weeks ago asked me for advice. He met a Canadian girl who was soon going to leave Chile for good and he wanted to get with her. I told him my ultimate technique: no fancy dates, no clubbing or eternally delaying things, just be direct and tell her “I want to have sex with you.” He first freaked out, but realized he didn’t have anything to lose and tried it. He spent the following three weeks having a very good deal of fun with this woman. When she left, we talked about dating foreigners and he shared with me this article “Don’t date a girl who travels.” Reading it got me to think about my own love life and some transcendental moments I’ve lived.
Scene 1. Ezeiza Airport, Buenos Aires, Argentina.
We hugged so tight I felt our bodies merging in this tender embrace. I still remember that like it was this very morning and not six months ago. Her face, beautiful even though she was crying ever since we left the hostel, sought comfort on my chest. I caressed her thin blond viking hair, trying to catch its scent as long as I could, until it was finally time to let her go. We kissed one last time and she walked to the counter, passed her ticket and walked through the boarding tunnel, looking back at me with a sad smile. Once she was out of sight, I sat in front of the waiting area window and patiently waited for her plane to leave, weeping. A couple of texts she sent me from the plane cheered me up a little, but once it took off, I couldn’t help crying again. My Norwegian girl was gone. The one I loved, my soul mate; flying back to Norway, away from me.
Scene 2. My apartment, Barrio Brasil, Santiago, Chile.
She faded away at the end of the hall, leaving my story as quickly as she’s got into it. Our “thing” was short, but intense. We had less than a week to know each other, and time flying when we were together didn’t help at all. Despite that, I liked her a lot and I could always tell she felt the same for me. Sex was amazing and we could spend hours talking, laughing or just cuddling. This English gal was very pretty and I loved her British accent and humor. But she was passing by Santiago in her way to keep traveling up South America to Mexico. Her plans didn’t change for me. I was never part of her plan to begin with, so moving on was the sensible thing to do for her. A hug, a few kisses and a goodbye. That’s all I got before she walked out my door, waved her hand at me and took her way down the hall to the elevator, to turn in that corner and disappear both from my sight and my life. Perhaps it was for the best. The “thing” could have got way more intense soon and the imminent farewell would’ve been devastating.
Scene 3. TBD (To Be Determined).
In a little more than a week she, my lover, will be gone. I met this cute Danish girl unexpectedly. I came to that party chasing a British gal I knew before, so things between us worked organically. In less than 10 minutes we talked, danced and said our goodbyes. I kept chasing after the the Brit and left the building, what was a big fucking waste of time. Nevertheless, next day my future lover had friended me on Facebook and the following week we were shagging at my flat. I said I didn’t want a relationship nor commitment, and she agreed because she knew she was leaving a few months after that. We maintained an only sex thing intermittently, while at the same time I was fucking around as much as I could. Only my accident in San Pedro de Atacama, with the whole near to death experience, made me settle down for a bit and scalate our business to a more official level, yet keeping it as non exclusive. We became lovers and friends. Very good friends. But after all my suffering I just couldn’t do or give more than what I have so far. Again, I think not getting attached is for the best. She will soon go back to Denmark, half way around the world from me.
After all this, I wonder why I keep doing the same to myself. Why do I keep engaging in relationships that are going to be over in a predetermined period of time? I think I’m terrified of serious commitment. Spending almost 9 years in a relationship messed me up apparently. But, on the other hand, I also believe I’m a romantic. Why does love have to be right next to you? Isn’t it more poetic to find it in the other side of the world? I mean, what are the odds? Why not believing in fate for a while? Why not just live this adventure instead of being sensible, at least just for a moment?
Just before I started writing this I read the response to the column that inspired me. It’s “DO date a girl who travels”, and there was a part that really got my attention. It says that a girl who travels will know when to change her plans for the chance to love. Yes, no woman has really changed much her plans for me before. I’m still waiting for that to happen. Will I finally find love when this occurs? I’m not sure, but wouldn’t hurt that much to keep trying, expecting not to be left behind again.