Sitting in my empty home, on a winter night, when it’s dark at 6pm, I find myself drinking a glass of my parent’s wine and listening to the Glee cover of “Homeward Bound/Home” on repeat.
As much as I had hoped my Latin romance would write itself like a fairytale, ending madly in love and defying the limits which stared me straight in the face, I knew this would happen eventually. Sadly, fairytales are just books, just fiction, and although some love may defy the odds so much that it only seems like it could exist in a book, that can be real. But this one, not so much.. haha
So, first, I need to preface this with the information that everything at home has actually been going great. I feel so successful at work, and was even promoted recently. I have a really great job working in an industry I’m passionate about, and it has been the saving grace of returning home, filling up my time while giving me some kind of purpose in my small, sleepy town.
Since I hadn’t been left with too much thinking time, I actually wasn’t missing the Argentine boy too much. I’ve been in contact with my family, and obviously I miss seeing them everyday, but he had been kind of out of sight, out of mind. But after working a crazy long day Wednesday, I found myself lying in bed listening to the music we used to listen to together. Naturally, I lay with my eyes closed, corners of my mouth upturned into a smile, talking to him about the great memories we had together. Although brief, the conversation remained comforting, filled with “te extraño”‘s and “besos.” I slept through the night, purposely keeping our station playing.
So, set the scene, Thursday eve, after eating take out sushi with a best friend who was having her own shitty day, I texted him while we lied in bed watching TV to ask his exam went. After a series of short responses, I decided that I was ready to ask the question I’d been putting off ever since our first night together: “Estoy algo a vos?” (“Am I something to you?”). I assured myself that this couldn’t be bad, because even if the answer was no, I needed to know so I didn’t waste my time missing a guy who wasn’t missing me (although continually insisted he did). The conversation quickly downturned when the text “I had a really good time with you” was followed by “I have a girlfriend now, hahaha.”
With a fuzzy blanket curled to my face and a puppy nuzzled in my side, tears welled. As always, I was lucky enough to have a best friend by my side, and we held each other, wallowing in our misery until the new Glee episode came on.
I like to think of myself as a pretty smart girl, and I knew all along that he wasn’t going to wait seven months for me like he promised, but part of me hoped he would be the guy who proved me wrong. Ah, the drama. En total, this could be algo cultural, yet another Argentine code I haven’t quite cracked. But as I sit here tonight, after getting an angry workout out of my system, I know I’m really not that angry or sad, just a little disappointed and still waiting for something to just… knock my socks off.
But I’m gonna keep on singing my Glee song, ’cause I really don’t regret that any of that happened. I would have loved Argentina all the same, even if I didn’t meet someone there, but I’m still glad I did. He sure as hell added to the list of things that I learned about myself while I was down there, and that will forever be special, keeping it’s own lock box around the Argentine part of my heart, that no amount of distance or change in “relationship status” will ever be able to touch.