Let's Talk About Collision. Yes, Collision.

I worked for a nice man a few years ago as his paralegal. During the time I worked for him, I got to know him thanks to his sincerity and being able to speak his mind on the spot. I like people like that. So one day discussing relationships in general, we touched on the subject of in laws meeting for the first time and possibly being completely different, as in conceived, born and raised on another planet. Those gatherings are interesting.

Anyway, I happened to use an expression more or less like this: "Well, you know, it can't be easy when two completely different families sit down at one table. I mean, you get married, you want to spend a holiday with your loved ones and your wife with hers. You learn to split the holidays or be at two places at once when possible. It's only fair that when two families collide, there is equally dedicated effort to bring possible mutual interests to the table so they can get to know each other...." and blah blah blah, he cuts in: "Did you just say collide? as in.... a car wreck? that's hysterical."

I liked the way it sounded. I'm not sure I actually meant to say that introducing your significant other's family to your own is ever really meant to turn out like a car wreck. But it was still funny. I like the term, anyway.

New Curtains, New Light...?

You'd be surprised what a huge difference they can make. Yes, curtains. It's almost like opening your eyes at night when it's pitch black and not being able to see squat, then you go back to sleep and someone turns the lights on and you open your eyes once more. WOW! You missed a bunch of shit while it was pitch black... like the pure assholishness of the mold of a man you seem to keep dating. Unbelievable. At least now, when the lights go off, it's YOU turning them off, and not that dickface. Good for you!

Anyway.

I met with my friend Pablo for dinner and talked about lots of things. A really interesting, and somewhat funny story was told to me. Apparently one of his female friends was having man issues and like most people, found herself in a destructive pattern-- dating the same type of men over and over. Pablo happened to point this out to her, but then, instead of suggesting that she break the cycle in other possible ways, he says "You should date a Caucasian." Uh... excuse me, but are we really there? Really? Uh, NO.

I mean, look, I get it. Latin women, we're complicated. We are a breed of women that don't like to settle. A lot of the time, we, women in general, tend to stay in not so good situations for whatever reason. I don't want to say being Latina will make you more prone to it than others. Maybe it's the kind of female friends Pablo surrounds himself with, I don't know. I just thought at that moment... can it really, REALLY come down to that?

And then I thought of the Colombian woman stereotype. Believe it or not, not ALL Colombian-born or raised, or blood-carrying women are golddiggers; or have had intensive plastic surgery in their lifetime. Believe me, I attest to this with a passion being one of the veeeeerrrryyyy few.

My words to Pablo: "At the end of the day, I'd like to think we're all.... different. I'm sure at times it may not seem like it. We all do horrible things to one another, male, female, Latin, Caucasian, etc. I really don't want to think that the answer to your friend's problem is simply dating a white guy."

Hmm.

Then it made me think for a minute. I've dated too many Caribbean men.

One Of My Stories

Ehhh, what the hell. This might make me feel better.
Jorge is one of the men that I think about and go "OUCH" because of. Oh, yeah. Let's just say that encountering what you never knew before and seeing it's real (a.k.a. "love") can take a whole lot out of you, at any given age. Jorge was and probably is in my eyes, perfect in most ways; wise, intelligent, very easy on the eyes, funny with maybe a bit too much of morbid humor and sarcasm, but fun nonetheless. Our values, morals, beliefs and general thoughts were intertwined from the moment we met, except for one small detail. Jorge had been through his share of relationship horror and by the time we met, he no longer wanted marriage or children.  Actually, come to think of it, Jorge didn't even want a relationship at all.

We seemed to hit it off quite well the first few months.  We had fun, and probably even a bit of chemistry going on between us.  He mentioned at one point the possibility of any prospective relationship failing terribly, because his latest ones really didn't make it past the first year or so.  But, of course, he said he'd like to try and see what would happen.

Plain and simple, I should have just walked away... year in or no year into said relationship. Oh, well.  Anyway, I believe it lasted around two years, maybe a little bit more.

Many unexpected things became known.  Among those, the fact that while actively dating me, Jorge had a pregnant woman friend somewhere, expecting none other than his first child. Yes, fucker friend, Mr. No Children and No Marriage. For a long time I wondered the why's and the how's , and even through constant communication, I still did not understand.  I remember the day his phone butt dialed me and I heard for the first time as Jorge played with his year and a half old son, and denied every bit of it that night when I confronted him. 

Broken trust, to this day it's something I'm not sure one can ever repair in a relationship.

I guess the cliche has some truth to it... time just might heal some wounds.

Eventually, the disappointment, the shock, the miscommunication just sort of lessened. Only when you come to terms with the truth and how things happened are you able to cope and move on. I don't know why things happened the way they did with Jorge. Fortunately, I have found my place in his life and his place in mine. Perhaps if we had not dated, we would have been nothing more than great friends. Either way, that is what we were for a long time, and the positivity that it brought into both our lives is absolutely priceless.


Moral of the story... there are many.

TBC'd.