I have many things in this little side blog that I will eventually talk about. Quite a few things, really. But instead I am going to sit down and type out all the nonsense that I have been dragging myself through recently. Because at some point during the past three months, I decided to have a Latin boyfriend.
Not just saying yes to having some gentleman caller, or agreeing to see someone exclusively. I went ahead and got myself entangled in some strange inter-cultural relationship where we are seemingly playing roles from a telenovella. I went from a relatively placid life of travel with the most dramatic moments when Clifford would get entangled with Betty or some other luggage arguments.
Now I can be seen literally yelling about how ridiculous this is in some combination of Spanish/French/English on the streets of Cali while my jealous Latin boyfriend interrupts me constantly and gestures wildly outside my favorite salsa club. We spit fire at each other about as often as he grabs me into giant hugs (I know, someone feels comfortable enough to wrap me up in a hug. It freaks me out, too), and it doesn't matter if we are standing in front of our friends, complete strangers, or alone in front of the bathroom mirror.
We hold hands when we walk, and he needs almost all of my attention when we are in the same space. I feel both incredibly suffocated by all of this, and also strangely drawn to staying in it. We both seem to be caught in this strange pull to just throw up our hands and say it's not worth all the stress it creates that balances all the laughter and fun we have when things are going well.
We have more problems with communication than I thought possible, even with the language barrier we both knew existed when we entered into this madness. We are both uncomfortable with the intense differences in our respective cultures: I cannot understand the over-protective, jealous, possessive tendencies; he is confused by my fierce independence over even the smallest things (like walking to the bathroom), my strange need to complete everything that I commit myself to (including working for a slightly inappropriate boss while I am not even living at the hostel any longer) while I cannot commit to even the most loose plans for the next day, and most of all how I can get so upset when he interrupts me while I am trying to talk.
We are so very different. But we are also fundamentally similar people. We love to laugh at ourselves, and both have dangerously lazy habits at times. We both keep track of all of the members of our group, almost obsessively (even though I often have to remind him to let B make her own decisions and run about freely, just as long as we know where she is). We are stubborn, and dislike being wrong so much it makes us physically uncomfortable. He will run in the sand and play in the water with me, and I love to go out dancing with him.
Last night he told me that he doesn't want to be with someone who doesn't need him and who doesn't consult him in their plans. I told him that I don't want any more of the drama or arguing or feeling suffocated and trapped. We argue about arguing. We make each other cry from anger or being unsure of what exactly is going on. We still don't really know.
But he's right, I don't need him. I have traveled for a year, both through some rough, turbulent times and peaceful, happy ones. And I am still here, and I am positive that I could make it as far as B and I want to go, just the two of us. But maybe, I want him around. Even with all the drama, all the tears, and all the frustrations. And for me, isn't that more important?
