I found myself wrapped up in a new love affair for my last two months in Chile. It was everything a love affair with someone from a different culture is supposed to be: passionate, exciting, illicit; everything feels new as you discover how to navigate the travails of a relationship with someone from a culture that you will never fully understand. Everything is more difficult, especially communication and agreeing on relationship norms, but for all the extra work, it also feels more intense. I found myself with stronger feelings than I imagined possible in two months, and strange, foolish thoughts started coming into my head: could I change my plans to be in Chillan for Christmas? Could I find a way to return to Chile sooner than I had planned? Could I picture a life with this person? I contemplated breaking one of my cardinal rules: Never change your plans for a man. Obviously, I got carried away with the intensity of mutual affection, something I haven't experienced for over six years; now, I will freely admit, I am a little addicted to it. This man was one of the few Chileans to actually get to know me, a fact I attribute to the friendship we shared that surprised me when it became something more. For the first time in my life, I found myself with a person who was not afraid to tell me how he felt about me. Even now, when it's over, I will always have that, and I feel it making me stronger and braver.
Ultimately, things ended badly, as they tend to do with people from broken families whose lives are complicated by the choices they've made. But for me, it is always reassuring to know that I am capable of those feelings. Every time I fail with a new love, I always worry that I will never be able to feel it again. I have the same irrational fear when my arm falls asleep or I get novocaine at the dentist's office: feeling will never return to that part of my body and I will move forward forever with a dead arm or gums or, in this case, a dead heart. I think I am learning, though, because my last failure taught me that no matter how devastating an ending can be, I will go on living and recover, a stonger person with more experience and knowledge to bolster me the next time around. Knowing that this time, the failure was not as immobilizing. In addition, I didn't really have the time to completely fall in love with this person, because as open as I want to be to love, I don't allow myself to be that free with someone in such a short time. Also, circumstances made it difficult to love him as I wanted to and could have. When he hurt me, and things ended, I felt proud of myself for trying, for being vulnerable and honest, direct and mature. I am still looking for a man who won't profoundly disappoint me.
But Chile has done wonderful things for me: I feel more confident about things like dating, sex and love. I am less afraid of rejection, getting hurt, failure. With every failure, I get closer to knowing what I want. I am getting better at cultivating a positive outlook on love: after I am done hurting, it is easier to remember the good and forget the bad in a person. Although the wound is still fresh, I can already feel myself remembering the precious moments we shared, laughing out loud at our jokes and secrets, picturing the way he looked in our most intimate moments. I forgot what it was like to be with someone in this capacity, and now I want more of it. I got so comfortable being single that I stopped trying to find a partner, but I realize now that I am ready for one.
1 comment:
Hell yes, no regrets! And I promise, or I hope anyways that we both someday will find a man who will not profoundly dissapoint us. Your words are strong as your heart, Chica. You have taught me what it means to be open to the possibility of love without giving yourself away. It was a rough journey here attempting to find someone in Chile, but I think we both know it was worth every moment.
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