To Settle For…Or to Run Away?

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¡Hi! I’m Marianella.

After breaking up a six-year relationship, it’s being four years that I’ve been thinking and trying to convince myself that there is nothing like being a single LESBO in Lima-Perú.

I usually come and go around the city, walk slowly, with my hands in my pockets. Looking like a mess, unworried, with no rush or complications. I see the chicks I want (#TheyCaughtMyEye). I talk, I touch, I bite, I listen, I walk in and out but I always make it clear: my commitment issues are irretrievable. I am firmly convinced that this is not just a phase that will pass, as everyone says… is just that running away by the back door has become my lifestyle.

People always say: “you don’t find love, love finds you”. Nevertheless, being single has taught me that the saying is quite wrong. Love doesn’t find you or is something you have to look for (#OrAnything). It simply goes around (#SOB) like a hungry shark, in circles and slowly; like a hidden lion, on alert, when it finds a trusting and tasty deer because, when you least expect it, it suddenly attacks!!

(#YesiAmScrewed)

Two Mondays ago, for the twelfth time I was watching the train passing by in front of my window while I was drinking my addictive and inseparable tea, like every morning. Then, I wondered if to worship the perfect image of my almost canonized ex-girlfriend had reached unexpected and STUPID limits during this long time. Maybe it was time to close the book (#Burnit #Smashit) and move on.

All of a sudden, SHE appeared … just as if the universe had conspired in my favor, as if Afrodite had winked at me, as if I have had a stroke of luck, as if a shaman had used a guinea pig on me. The one I never had appeared.

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I saw her for the first time eight years ago in a popular club back then.

I was wearing my new blue sneakers (#Wornthemout), tight jeans – with pockets on the sides-, a shirt that I must have left at any girl’s house, well combed and heavily perfumed. I went with five pals – now married, engaged or recovered, better said “on the right path” (#Amen) – who I have on Facebook and greet only on their birthday.

We came in the club ready to attack, to hunt, to hook up, to “look for someone” (#WhatElse?). After buying the mandatory mugs of something similar to beer – or at least that’s what we were told-, we did the typical “stroll around” the club TO SEE WHAT WE COULD FIND.

Suddenly, next to a giant resounding speaker surrounded by girls who looked alike, there she was, dancing with her eyes closed as if she wasn’t there. She was immersed in cigarette smoke, that smoke that used to wrap us up in every single club, which was the next day evidence for our parents to realize we were partying the night before (#OnlyGodKnowsWhatIdid).

Still, there she was like a perfect hologram, conspicuously and clumsily moving under the psychedelic lights that made her look like a rock star trying to go unnoticed.

I watched her blond hair swing, while it uncovered, for a few seconds, her teenage face – beautifully drawn like an anime from Sailor Moon or like came out from a teenager magazine.

I was amazed. I stared at her while holding my drink on the right hand, the one that stopped sensing until I heard the boos for having spilled the valuable liquid.

  • Looooook! (#AsIfFindingTheTreasure) – said a pale girl, from my group, with difficulty to pronounce the R, while pointing her skinny finger at this group of girls who looked like if they were from Villa María School. Well, she, the little inspiration of any fairy tale or any pedophile fantasy, studied there.
  • Loooook, looook! – the pale girl funnily repeated, jumping around like a little monkey.

The eyes of my other four pals popped out when they saw these girls and all, at the same time, said: WOOOOW, HERE IT IS!

That night finally made sense.

Tactless but laughing, we approached directly to the group of ladies. We stood up next to them casually, very close, placing the many mugs of beer strategically in the middle, enough visible and crammed together so they know THE PARTY was there. They only had to look sideways to get free beer immediately.

As the night passed between joy and music from 90s, some girl from the group of ladies asked for a cigarette to the pale girl. Meanwhile, some other girl was pleasantly talking to the funniest girl of my group, who stuck out her tongue and winked at us even when the “prize” was miles away.

I was stunned, mesmerized… I was looking at the girl with the prettiest mouth than the drawn to Pinoccio. She staggered in the way to the restroom like ten times, at a time that she should be already at home.

Finally, when I was demoralized, the smoke cleared, the songs repeated and the excuse of the limited space didn’t work anymore, she approached. (#ThankYouGodFromNowOniwillBeHave)

In just one second of distraction, suddenly she appeared in front of me: clumsily dancing, looking so sweet, so cute, so everything. Along with her friends, and their drinks, there she was with her eyes more closed than before (as if there were levels). That was all I could see when I had her very near me.

 

I couldn’t believe what I was staring at. I realized that maybe my obvious insistence, when looking at her too much, could have caused a common game in which she, rebellious and chaotic, had come to show her self-confidence. While dancing, I remember thinking: SHE CAN WIN IF SHE WANTS!

The closeness between us became a thin line and, seconds from his mouth, I whispered: DO YOU WANNA GIVE ME A HEART ATTACK? She smiled, with the most impish smile I had ever seen. And, in a brief and sweet kiss, she disappeared as she came.

Some minutes later, with an “I’M THE WINNER, SUCKERS!” attitude, I went home still with her scent of cinnamon and sweet drink in my mouth.

A few months after, I came across her in a different club, bigger and more popular. She was more serious, kind of sourly, all dressed in black, sitting on a couch, surrounded by the same girls, sharply outlined with dark eyeshadow, with a colorful drink on her hand in which she was wearing a thick leather bracelet.

WHAT COULD I SAY TO HER?

I was with someone else at the time and I promised to arrive early. Therefore, I looked at her as if it was for the last time. I left, thinking of her on my way back home, imagining what I could have said.

Fate works in mysterious ways and it is joker. It loves laughing at our expense and I like how it surely enjoys playing pranks.

Years later, thanks to my dear jester, we became friends who chatted endlessly until midnight. I was her diary, or a sort of confidant who listened to her failed love story. I was her favorite pillow to cry or to talk about music and movies. I was her undeniable faithful friend for the weekends – for some time.

Then again, she disappeared as she came because of my obsession for honesty and her lack of willingness to my way of saying things.

Several years later, when retrieving friends became popular, she returned but this time I could see her smiling as she did before, beautiful, staring at me, with familiar gestures, in a chiaroscuro delightfully shaded by her shadow beneath my sheets.

I could not believe it. She was there, with me, closing her eyes and mouth, that mouth.

Within this ephemeral moment, seeing her caramel-colored eyes, I realized my two options: TO SETTLE FOR a possible half happiness because I felt that I wouldn’t find in her what I was looking for considering that I couldn’t replace the memory of this other girl that after all these years I cannot forget. Or… TO RUN AWAY (#AsUsual).

Once again, fate gave me what I wanted right in front of me but with conditions in exchange.

Of course, she disappeared again just before I decided to run away.

 

Marianella Castro Robles.

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Thank’s to:

Talented Art Paint: Andrea Barreda.

Great Translation and Int: Claudia Sandoval.