I have a problem with consistency. This is why I haven’t posted in more than a year. It’s crazy to think about how fast time has passed and how much stuff I managed to shove into that year. I have lived in Puerto Rico, Washington, Oklahoma (actually, I think I was kind of homeless during this period), Idaho and Oregon. I have had five different jobs. And I fell into the craziest relationship I have been in thus far in my life.
Today is his 23rd birthday and I suppose to honor the occasion it would be appropriate to dedicate this (whatever it may be) to him. I met El Papazón (as he liked to be called) one Saturday night in Old San Juan. Upset because all the bars were closing at midnight due to an election the next day, I was knocking them back fast and looking for someone to entertain me for the rest of the night.
I turned to the guy sitting next to me, gazing at him flirtatiously. He wasn’t attractive but I only wanted someone to hang out with for the night. The next bus wasn’t leaving until 6:00am, so I had a lot of time to kill. We started talking. When the bars closed we went to the casino, where the drinks were complimentary and strong. I gambled for the first time and won.
By the end of the night, we had come to a friends-with-benefits arrangement. Before I knew it, we were in a full-blown relationship. We drank and smoked and drank and smoked and planned our future together. Every night was a party.
But we were never a good match. We constantly struggled to change each other. We had very little in common. But how much do two people have to have in common to sustain a relationship? I asked myself that question every day for the couple of months we were together.
I still don’t know the answer. I can’t say specifically why our relationship failed. I’m glad it’s over, but I miss it. Happy Birthday, Papazón.

I remember meeting him in 1999. Smashing Pumpkins, Aerosmith, Emily… And before you knew it we were friends.

How many people do you meet in this world that have a cherry red jeep that could splash through puddles in a manner that made me giggle like nothing else (at least like nothing else before I discovered sex alcohol and weed)? I watched him love my friend and she him, as much as teenagers are meant to love each other. Maybe the pain was exquisite, maybe it was excruciating, maybe it escaped any adjective humans have managed to create (unlikely).

The drama was like no other. Too many painkillers used to treat a pain that could not compete with the gel-caps being swallowed, much less the reality of the post-high school world. An unsuspecting victim completing a love triangle that he didn’t know he was becoming involved in and by the time he did, he no longer cared.

Sex and misunderstandings, misunderstandings and sex divided us more effectively than Monica did Hillary and Bill. (How simple life was back then! To be able to say, “if he cheats, he’s out, no questions asked,” completely unaware that you might end up being the clandestine other woman in some dark corner years later.)

Ethics and morals seemed easier than; do this, don’t do that. Suddenly, youth ends and reality begins and there’s the truth. Nothing is black and white. The entire world exists in shades of grey.

Reflecting upon that version of me, I am not sure that anyone could have convinced me my shades of grey would vary from smoky to pearly in a single minute. Would anyone from that part of my life have been capable of divining the degree of change in me? Possibly, but the direction... I think about me then and me now and me in the middle.

So many different places people dishes smells textures buildings alcohols beaches have passed through the moments of my life, marking me in one way or another, rendering it impossible for me to return to my previous self.

In some moments, the degree of change has been less than a single breath. In others, I managed to leap through centuries of knowledge in a single second (seriously, I may not be the one you want to doubt when it comes to claims such as these.).

So, with a simple click of my mouse, I let him back into my life. Does he think he knows me? I know I don’t know him. His face is similar and his name is the same, but who of us escapes change?