I’m an expat in a very small town in Guatemala. There is a very small expat community here and if you know anything about expats, most of us are bat shit crazy. Crazy in a good way. Mostly, we are like minded peeps, meaning, we all left our first world lives for more freedom and a life of adventure.
One of the many issues that come from living in a small expat community is the dating scene. It’s almost non existent (ya, I had no clue before I moved here). You either come here with someone or you hope the wind blows a suitable candidate your way.
And it did just that for me…kinda.
I had been here a full year and a half, and then he showed up. Tall, dark and handsome. He had the dreamiest eyes ever and a smile that melted my heart. I was going to keep my eye on this one.
The universe heard me whisper that and two weeks after I met him I ended up moving into the same apartment complex he lived in. Same floor. Suddenly we were neighbours.
And the shit got real.
We all hung out a lot. Drunken shenanigans at the local watering hole, one thing led to another and within a month, we were dating. It was bad, it was good…and it was finite. He was here for only 6 months. I am here permanently.
“Be careful Iva, this is going to end soon”. I reminded myself of this over and over again. Too bad my heart didn’t heed this warning.
We were wrong for each other on so many levels. He’s an alcoholic. I’m not. He’s a pessimist, I’m a “quintessential optimist” (in his words). He’s a planner, I’m a butterfly. He was brain, I was heart. We were just so incompatible it wasn’t even funny.
But we had such an amazing fucking time together, all the time. We butted heads a few times, we separated once or twice but always found our way back to each other. There was an undeniable bond. It was borderline magnetic. You just felt it. Everyone felt it.
6 months was drawing near and his plans changed. 3 more months he was going to be here. I had 3 more months with him.
Then 3 months turned into 3 more months. By the time his real departure date had arrived I had almost a full year with him.
A year of ups and downs, but mostly ups!
We laughed, we argued, we cried, we hung out, we supported each other, we cheered each other on. We had so many “firsts” together as expats. So many wild adventures. It was a year of growing, learning, living and loving.
He filled a void in me that was aching, yearning for attention and love, begging to be touched and adored. He became my number 1 fan with my online work. He was my rock, my confidante, my best friend. I loved his presence in my life. It was warm, fun and blissful. We were just so good together.
And then the day came.
It was time to say goodbye.
How my fucking heart ached so bad. I wasn’t ready to say goodbye. A full year of having a companion by my side and he was being ripped away from me.
…and just like that, it was over.
Oh how I ached. Every ounce of my being ached so bad. It’s a feeling I’ve never had before, and I fucking hated it. It’s a feeling I don’t wish on anyone. How do you go back to regular life? How do you just move on like everything is ok? How do you stop the longing and emptiness?
I wish someone would tell me. I wish there was a magic wand that I can wave and make everything right.
Life just goes on
Only a few days have passed since he left and I can still see him on his motorcycle, I see him chillin’ on my couch, I see him walking down the sidewalk, I hear his voice, I can feel his hand on my back, I can almost smell him.
How I long to hold him just one more time.
Life will go on. I will submerse myself in my work 100% now. I will cherish every single memory I have with him….
We’ll meet again. Maybe in 6 months, maybe in a year. No one knows for sure. Life has a funny way of switching up plans. For now, I will thank the universe for bringing him to me.
…and the wind will blow again.
Peace and Love