Everything you will read here is real. All names have been changed so that people focus on the lessons rather than the individuals involved.
It was a Friday night after college and I was tired. I had just gotten home from class, waiting to spend the night playing a video game and browsing the internet. My room had been waiting for me. The soft glow of the screen lit up the room in a pale blue haze. As I sat down, my phone vibrated.
A message from Ricardo, a mutual Leo. Ricardo and I were never really close. Not because we didn’t know each other, but because we were too similar in the wrong ways. Strong personalities. Stubborn. The kind of people who don’t bend easily. Still, we can have a drink together. Why not? Let bygones be bygones.
“ There’s a party in Paseo El Carmen. There’s a friend’s despedida. She’s leaving to Europe. I’ll pick you up.”
I exhaled, then smirked slightly.
“Alright.”
Getting ready, I changed into something simple. I grabbed my black leather jacket and slipped it on, adjusting the collar in the mirror. I looked at myself for a second longer than usual. Not out of vanity, but out of recognition. Like I was trying to memorize who I was at that exact point in time.
Then I grabbed my keys and stepped outside. Rodrigo had arrived. The air hit differently that night, like everything that had been hidden during the day finally had space to breathe. Lights stretched across the windshield in long streaks as the streets blurred past us. Santa Tecla slowly came into view, and with it, the pulse of El Paseo. You could hear it before you even saw it.
Music overlapping music. Laughter spilling into the streets. Conversations layered over the clink of glasses and bottles. It was the most up and coming place in El Salvador at the time. A long stretch of street lined on both sides with bars, restaurants and lounges, each one fighting for attention with brighter lights, louder music and bigger crowds.
In the center of the street, Rodrigo’s friends had reserved a section. With tables pushed together. Buckets with bottles scattered across surfaces.
“That’s us,” Rodrigo said.
He began to say hi and introduce me to his friends and then. That’s when I saw her. She stood out. At the center of the group, she sat in a black and white blouse patterned with stars. There was something about her presence that made me feel anchored. Like everything around was in motion, but she wasn’t.
She was surrounded by guys. Of course she was. They leaned in when they spoke to her, laughed a little too loudly at things that weren’t that funny, adjusted themselves in small, unconscious ways. I watched for a moment longer than I should have. Then I looked away.
If only, I thought. But that’s not happening.
The night unfolded the way nights like that always do. One drink turned into two. Two into three. Conversations blurred together. Names forgotten as quickly as they were introduced. Laughter that felt genuine in the moment and time began to slip. One by one, bars began to close, their lights dimming, their music fading.
But the night wasn’t over.
“Party’s moving,” Rodrigo said, appearing beside me like he had never left. “We’re going to Lisa’s house.”
We got into his car and drove. The noise of El Paseo El Carmen fading behind us. Then we arrived. The house was big. Not just in size, but in presence. It sat slightly elevated, overlooking the city. Inside, the party picked up right where it had left off. When we got there, people just kept drinking and I joined the group.
Another hour passed and the beers were running out. So Rodrigo told me, “Hey, I’m gonna go get some more beers with some friends. I’ll be right back.”
I walked him to the front of the house and closed the door behind him and turned around.
And I saw her. Sitting by herself on a bench. That same girl everyone had been talking to. As I turned back toward the house, I looked at her and she looked at me. She called me over. I sat down and we talked. At that moment, you could say I felt lucky.
She said she needed help going to the bathroom because she wasn’t feeling well so I said okay. I stood up and accompanied her down the hallway. She pulled me inside the bathroom, closed the door and locked it behind her.
She said, “Don’t look.”
So I turned around. She pulled down her pants and went to the bathroom. Then she stood up, pulled them back up and said, “Help me.”
I grabbed her hair and she started vomiting into the toilet. She kept vomiting and I just held her hair. I thought to myself, I’ve been there before. I can’t judge her. But there I was, with a beautiful girl, that everyone wanted to be around, holding her hair as she vomited and pissed in front of me.
As I held her hair, I noticed she had a tattoo on the back of her neck. It was Arabic. I asked her what it meant. She said, “Maktub.”
It was written.
She washed her face and we walked outside. We sat on the bench for a few minutes before saying she needed to lie down. So I helped her to the couch and as all her friends turned around, they noticed I was holding her and they rushed in to help.
“Thank you, thank you,” they said. They laid her down and she asked for water. They went to get it for her. As all the girls were surrounded her, worried and asking what happened, she said,
“He took care of me. He’s good.”
It was already close to 2 or 3 in the morning. Rodrigo said, “Hey, I think it’s time to go. Party’s over.”
I left and as I turned back one last time, I saw her. I wondered when I would get to see her again.
The next day or two, she ended up adding me and writing to me on Facebook, saying thank you. And just like that, we became friends because I took care of her. I was always a nice guy. I always wanted the best for everybody. I would put people before myself, sometimes more than I should have.
But wow… this girl. I loved talking to her. There was something about her energy. She was hot headed, quick to react, a little unpredictable but damn, she had spice in her. The kind that keeps you awake, that kind of chase. I always liked that about a Latina woman.
So we talked and we talked. Late nights, random moments throughout the day. Getting to know each other little by little, piece by piece. Eventually, I asked her out on a date and she said yes.
My phone wasn’t working that week, it was completely busted. So all I had was my laptop. I told her, “Look, I don’t have a phone, but I’m going to bring my laptop, use the map, follow the GPS and I’ll get to you.”
It sounded ridiculous even as I said it but I meant it. I drove to La Constitución. It’s on the other side of the city. One of those older parts of El Salvador that feels frozen in time. The kind of place where the streets are worn, the houses carry history and everything feels a little more dangerous.
My grandma used to live around there. It wasn’t the nicest area, not the kind of quiet that feels peaceful. Still, with my laptop open, screen glowing, following directions like I was navigating something bigger than just streets, I made it.
When she saw me and realized I had actually done that just to see her, it mattered to her. I could tell and she never forgot it. We went to a small local restaurant. Nothing fancy. We sat outside enjoying the warm night air with beers on the table between us.
We just talked. She smoked cigarettes back then, casually, like it was part of her rhythm. I didn’t smoke. I barely drank, just a couple of beers here and there. But she drank. She smoked. And she carried herself like nothing really weighed on her. Loose. Carefree.
There was something about that, something I didn’t have, something I was drawn to. As the conversations got deeper, I started to notice the differences between us.
Clear ones. She felt… dangerous in a way. Too bad for me. I knew I liked her but I wasn’t sure if I’d want to be around that long term but at the same time… that’s exactly what pulled me in.
I wanted that, a bad girl. I wanted to feel something different and being around her gave me that rush. So we kept seeing each other and one night, we made out in the car. Another day, I brought her over and we listened to Led Zeppelin music low in the background, filling the room in a way that made everything feel slower, more intimate.
We laid on my bed, close and entangled in that moment. It felt natural. Easy. Like it could go further if I let it. I knew that. I knew that if I wanted to cross that line, it would have happened.
But something in me stopped. I looked at her and listened to “Tangerine” in the background, holding this woman who felt real, who felt different… It hit me. She wasn’t just another girl but she wasn’t for me, and it would be best to remain friends. She started to become more intense, writing more seriously and wanting to go out frequently. She wanted something real, defined, with weight. More than what I could give her at that time. And deep down, I knew it.
I wasn’t there yet. So instead of facing it, one day, I just stopped talking to her. No explanation. No closure. I just disappeared. I kept her in my contacts, pushed all the way to the back of my list, like something I didn’t want to fully let go of but when the time was right, I could revisit that chapter.
I told myself that I needed to live. To finish studying. To go out. To date other girls. To have fun. To chase experiences and my dreams. To feel everything I thought I was supposed to feel. To get it all out of my system. I was 20 without a sense of purpose or clear vision of what I wanted to do with my life.
I believed that after I had my fun… after I had been with enough women…after I had lived enough… then maybe…just maybe. We could try again.
And throughout the years in college, we stayed friends but we rarely talked. Maybe a meme here, another there. Small things. Just enough to remind each other we still existed. Nothing more.
I wrote to her saying,“What if we’re just waiting to get a little older to get married, to grow old together? That would be my dream with you.”
She said, “I would love that.”
Soon after, I found another girl and we dated. We had a great time together, I introduced her to my family and friends and we fell in love. Sharon noticed and her heart was broken. She cried. She thought the girl I was dating was fat, uglier than her, and wondered why I would date someone else instead. Then, we fell out of it.
And then I met another girl and we dated for three years. Then another, and then another. Each one taught me something, giving me experience. But each of them had their faults, just like I did. And in the end, I realized it was all part of the path in my journey. God was bringing people into my life, and then taking them out. For what reason exactly, I will never know but I can feel that there was always a purpose.
Until ten years passed. Somehow, through all that time, Sharon and I always maintained some form of communication. A “hey” here, a quick check in there.
But nothing real.
One day in March 2020, the pandemic happened and airports were closed. Sharon was in Miami on a business trip when everything shut down. El Salvador closed its borders. No one in, no one out. She got stuck for six months in Miami.
The company she worked for covered her hotel at first and then eventually she had to move in with a friend’s cousin. Living out of a situation that wasn’t hers, waiting for something she couldn’t control. It was during that time, I wrote to her. I asked how she was doing. If she was okay. I told her that if she needed anything, she could reach out to me.
She never replied.
Two years later. 2022.
I’m in France with my family. We’re traveling through Paris visiting Giverny and Versailles. Then one day, I went to Mont Saint Michel and it became one of the greatest days of my life. I fell in love with climbing to the very top and seeing the beautiful horizons. The place, the atmosphere, the feeling, it stayed with me.
On the bus ride back, just sitting there replaying the day in my head and listening to music, I got a message. Sharon. My heart raced, it jumped for joy.
“Hey… it’s been a while. Sorry I never responded back but when you come back to El Salvador, we should hang out sometime again.”
I smiled. I told her I’d love that. While I was still in France, I kept thinking about it. About her. About us. After all those years, I was looking forward to seeing her again. For years, I held onto the idea of the version of us that never really existed, but somehow always stayed alive in the background. We kept each other there, in the back of our lives… waiting.
When I finally returned to El Salvador, I saw her. We went out to my favorite European bar. We sat, had beers and talked. I had just come back from my trip. I felt good but more than anything… I just enjoyed being there with her. Back to old times, 10 years later.
Her smile. The way she looked at me. That moment. I wanted to freeze it. To live in it a little longer. If I could have repeated that day over and over again, I would have. I felt… happy.
But reality was already moving forward. Soon, I was leaving to New York. To find a job. To grow. To build a life. To chase my ultimate dream and become the best video game designer from El Salvador.
And in that future, Sharon wasn’t an option anymore.
So I left. We talked while I was in New York. While I was sick with COVID. While I was trying to figure things out, trying to find a job, trying to become something. She told me, “I hope you find what you’re looking for.”
And I told her,
“I hope I do too.”
Once I returned from New York, I had achieved what I set out to do. My job, a step closer to my dreams. Survived my adventures. I had gone out on a few dates. Lived a little. Seen enough to feel like I had moved forward. And now… I was back in El Salvador.
And I thought to myself, I can finally ask Sharon out. So I did.
We went out a couple of times. I took her to an ice cream shop for our first 3 dates. Ice cream is the best option for getting to know someone. Coffee is too boring. Ice cream is lighter, easier, small, and refreshing. You sit, you talk, you enjoy it without the pressure of a full meal, without the mess, without the formality, and it’s cheap.
It felt like the perfect setting, especially after not seeing each other for almost a year. And honestly, you can see how they move their mouth and use their tongue.
We went to different spots. Shaw’s and then Llao Llao. One time, I was tired,like really tired from working so I started to yawn and she noticed immediately.
She said. “Maybe we should go.” I pushed back.
“No, no, no. I want to be here.”
She looked at me, not fully convinced.
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah. Of course.”
And I meant it. Even if I was exhausted, I still wanted to be there with her. On our third date, I took her to an arcade to play games. As a video game designer, I believe it’s an effective way to enjoy moments with small competition and playfulness. After playing for a while, we went to get ice cream downstairs.
She showed me the toppings. She wanted jelly beans so I got her some. We sat down together and continued talking. Then she bit into one of the jelly beans. Hard. Too hard. I asked her if she was okay.
“Yeah, yeah… I’m fine,” she said.
So we finished the ice cream and we kept talking. Kept the moment alive. Later, we played air hockey and I was winning. We got close. And then… we kissed. After all those years. After everything. After the nights of Led Zeppelin, cigarettes, beers and distance…
We were back there again. And this time, it felt different. We were different. The date ended and she went home. She later confessed that the jelly bean had fractured her tooth. Her molar had cracked, opened up from the pressure and caused excruciating pain that she was fighting through. She had to get work done which cost her time, money and lowered confidence. For the next couple of years, she had to have Invisalign, and even though it came from something so small, we would never have gummy candies while having ice cream.
We kept seeing each other. More dates. More time together. There was tension between us and the attraction that had been building for years. More close, intimate moments. We would sit in the car, foreplay, lose track of time and eventually, we gave into it.
One night, before I was about to leave on a trip to California, we went out again to my favorite beer European spots. It was getting late. We had been drinking. And we both knew where the night was heading.
So I said, “Let’s go.
We went to a nearby hotel. I got a room. And for the first time, after all those years, after everything that had happened between us… we were finally there. Alone. No interruptions. No distance. No waiting. Just us.
I remember looking at her. Thinking back to that first night. The bathroom. The moment I turned around. Holding her hair. Taking care of her. And now… she was in front of me naked on the bed. The same woman I had thought about, imagined, wondered about for years. It felt surreal.
Like something that had been written long before it actually happened. That night wasn’t just physical. It felt like the closing of a loop. Something unfinished is finally being completed, sealed with a deal, with our bodies intertwining with one another. Something I had imagined for over a decade finally becoming real.
We stayed there for a while, just existing in that space together. Then we left. I had everything I ever wanted. I went on my trip. We kept talking. There was tension, desire and more curiosity.
When I came back… we picked up right where we left off. More nights together spent making love together in our cars, in motels, in hotels, and all the moments in between everything else. Until eventually, it became something more. I made the decision to become boyfriend and girlfriend because I truly wanted to love her.
Even though we were different. Even though we argued. Even though there were things that didn’t align… there was still something there. Something that kept pulling us back to each other.
And I chose to embrace it.
