The Perfect one

Last year I stumbled randomly upon a guy at the club. We danced, talked and exchanged contacts right after he asked “What happens next?” . My answer was “Now is the time that you go home, and I get to my place.”

My five friends know I love other cultures and ethnicities but I have a special weakness for Indian guys. I can’t explain it but there is things about them that I can’t find anywhere else. I don’t know what it is, but they are my kryptonite. This guy, was in fact, from India and here for business. He wasn’t here for long and I couldn’t see him another time. He mentioned he travels often so we would meet again. We kept in touch talking often on the phone, video calling and exchanging texts.

Maybe my thirst to learn more about him kept me interested even when he was thousand of miles away or it was just the fact that I was hopeful to see him again. I don’t know, but during seven or eight months I learn about his family and his traditions, what he likes to do, what he likes to eat… Or maybe it was because he was OK with answering my million questions and didn’t get annoyed. We were also honest about everything he did or I did and about the fact that we could ever possibly have a relationship because of cultural differences.

This makes me think, maybe I love these guys because I know exactly where the relationship will go: no where. I don’t have to figure out where I stand and the feeling of knowing that it would definitely end, makes me relieved. I just like knowing, that’s all. It must be because I thought my life was perfect before I realized it wasn’t.

Anyways, back to The Perfect One.

About a month ago, while shopping, he called. I had previously seen his post on social media of him going to Seattle, so I assumed he was there. Instead he informed he was actually in Phoenix and just got to his hotel room.

What. the. fuck!?

I hate surprises, but deep inside I was happy to know he was here. I still needed time to process this. Months of talking and finally he is on the same geographical region as me. Only miles away. I had to see him. So I did.

In preparation, I drove the slowest I’ve had in the highway to have time to think of the million possible ways this would turn out. Knowing that I would still go see him and wouldn’t regret whatever happened. I am all about living in the moment, right? So why the hell was I over thinking this. Oh, yea, maybe because I analyze everything to try to find out how it would end. This time I knew. It was just temporary, no long term here.

I got home, slowly walked upstairs to take the longest shower I’ve ever taken. Maybe not lengthy but I was trying to fathom the fact that he was here and called me right from his hotel room.

Still, what the fuck.

Reminiscing the few hours we spent together, he seemed like a sweet guy. From his stories he was caring, smart, logical. Obviously I love this qualities, but what get me is the details. Why am I like this? I fall for the stupidest things ever. Urgh. I knew he was going to do some little random thing that I would fucking love.

Trying to calm myself down, I thought I would be ok because there is no future. I’m divorced, and Puerto Rican, not Indian. I won’t be able to marry him. So I got ready to head over his room. I knew what will happen, and I was cool with it.

I get to his hotel room and he receives me with a huge hug and the “I can’t believe this is happening” face. What are the odds of people keeping in touch after they are oceans away? Anyways, all I pictured happening didn’t. Instead, I was treated and spoiled. Details… they kill me! He explained about his job and what he was doing here. Maybe I’m just a nerd, but I love listening to those things!

The Saturday after we went out to dinner. We had the most interesting conversation I’ve ever had over dinner. Learning excites me. Maybe I just need someone intellectually challenging every time I go out. I showed him my favorite club after and we danced the night away. Next day he went back to his other office…

Perfection is perceived differently. When there are lots of things wrong with this scenario, the fact that I know what we had makes it perfect. We had nothing, and that is perfectly fine with me.

5 thoughts

  1. Pingback: I’m way too good at goodbyes… – Undateable

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