My journey coming to and arriving in Madrid was mired in complicated circumstances.
My friend, we'll call her Mary, convinced me to come here, told me all about how cheap Madrid was with its tapas, how living in Madrid enables you to see Spain and visit other parts of Europe more easily and how liberal it is when it comes to the consumption and production of marijuana. She was also in love with me. I was aware of the last bit yet I made it clear that if I were to move to Madrid it would be for my personal growth, not for romantic reasons.
We were paramours. Since my last serious relationship I've known many women who were amazing in so many distinct ways but for some reason or another I liked the relationship the way it was, with no strings attached. It was no different with Mary, she was intelligent, witty, pretty and I could spend hours with her watching tv, playing games and drinking, just having a good time. She was also possessive, though, and even though I made it clear where I stood, my feelings toward her and what I saw for our future (just being friends), she was still territorial, jealous and intrusive, looking through my emails and messages. I tried letting her off easy yet the message went ignored, no matter what language I used.
Maybe I didn't try hard enough to sever ties. Maybe I shouldn't have continued our physical relationship long after she'd grown attached. Maybe I was wrong to accept any gifts or help she offered, no matter how tempting or alluring. Maybe I shouldn't have come to Madrid. Whatever the uncertainty or regret I feel, the path only moves forward. The recipe for disaster had come to fruition and it was only a matter of time before I tasted the meal.
There was a fallout. I am to blame, demonstrating poor self control and poor judgment, perhaps it was self sabotage unconsciously manifesting itself. Whatever the case, she hates my guts, an eventuality that I'd imagined but one I lament nonetheless. Even though Mary and I had our problems it's always incredibly painful to lose a friend.
I'd always been a bachelor but suddenly I was truly on my own, owing nothing to no one. I thought I could finally breathe, finally go out, flirt, hook up, go on dates, bring home whoever I like. I had a bit of success but I also found Spain challenging, I've never really had hang ups about my complexion or race but Spain is a different beast. Here, I can pass for east Asian, Latin American or Middle Eastern, none of which are particularly appealing to most Spanish women. Oh, with my haircut I can also pass for gypsy (imagine where they stand in the hierarchy). Normally I'd take pride in being confused for these other ethnicities but instead it only made me second guess myself. It would be a lonely year, it seemed, and what was never an insecurity of mine started to wear on me.
I fell into despair. Normally reasonably confident, I felt ugly here, unattractive, thinking that I was part of that undesired group of dark-skinned people that go mistreated, misunderstood and marginalized much like in other parts of the world. I'd resigned myself to my fate and felt that if that's how it is, I would not let it change me, let it mark my attitude, I would be the same person I've always been and see who responds to that.
Just when I'd moved past the maelstrom of Mary, crossed the desert of despair and found solace in my self confidence I found her. It was lust at first sight, like many relationships first start for me, but I could tell she had something special about her.
I met Armelle at a free salsa class at La Tabacalera, as we swiveled our hips together and flirted. We spent time together whiling away the days chatting, taking strolls and becoming closer and closer when the thought that'd eluded me for four years now began to take hold on the cliffside of my mind, a mountain rose sprouting. When you least expect great things, when you least expect to meet that special someone, life has a way of throwing you a
curveball. And I'm thankful.
