In the summer of 2003, when I was nineteen years old, I went to Querétaro, Mexico for seven weeks to study Spanish. I met my husband while I was there, but I wouldn’t know it for quite some time.
One evening in July I went with a group of my classmates to a cantina called “El Columpio”, a word that means “swing” but is also a slang term for “a drunken stagger”. When I first arrived in Mexico I was delirious with independence and eager for new experiences. As a direct result there was an unfortunate incident involving nine shots of tequila with Sangrita chasers (a mixture of tomato juice and hot sauce) which ended. . . messily. Said incident cured me of any urge to drink to excess for the rest of my stay in Mexico. Since I was not drinking that night I had a clear head--thank God! I remember everything that happened, even though I didn't know how important it would be at the time.
El Columpio had a very friendly atmosphere, and I spent the first part of - the evening listening to music and chatting with friends as they imbibed. At some point I had gone up to the second level, and when I was coming back down the narrow stairs a Mexican man approached me and asked me if I spoke English. Though I am of nondescript European lineage, my appearance is somewhat ethnically ambiguous and most Mexicans thought I was a local.
I was a little wary of the stranger, but I also curious so answered that I did. Then the man, who I later learned was named Jesús, asked me if I would speak with his American friend. It sounded a little bit like a set up. I looked skeptically over Jesús’ shoulder at the tall, smiling young man across the room.
When I began the trip I had invented a fiancé to mention whenever I wanted to fend off any unwelcome advances. I even wore a ring on my third finger to back up my story. I didn’t mention “Bruce” then—for the longest time I didn’t understand why not, but now I see that the hand of God pushed me from my usual course. I went over and introduced myself to Jesús’ American friend.
He was just as friendly as his smile suggested. He asked me to dance, but I was (and still am) terrified of dancing. I internally sighed with relief, because the week before I had stepped on a thorn while camping. The spike had gone all the way through my shoe and deep into my foot, which provided me with a legitimate excuse to say no—my foot hurt. I thought that would be that, but then he asked me to sit and talk with him.
For lack of a better word, I was gobsmacked into compliance. Coming from a world of frat parties and hookups, sitting and talking was an irresistible novelty. We talked for a long time about all sorts of things. We got through the basics. His name was N. He was in Querétaro working as an intern for an Engineering company, but didn’t speak a word of Spanish. I was Catholic, he was not. We both enjoyed running but found it difficult in Querétaro because of the high altitude. We liked the same music and had seen some of the same movies. Then we move on to less mundane topics, covering things like time travel and Superstring Theory.
It should be mentioned that it wasn’t completely cerebral on N's side. He leaned forward earnestly as he spoke, and rested his hand on my knee—it was an understated gesture, but eloquent enough. He liked me. I had had all of one boyfriend in my life, and that had been something of a disaster. I wasn’t ready for anyone to like me like that so I had already made up my mind to brush N off at the earliest possible moment. When the night was through he asked for my phone number but I wouldn’t give it to him. I said that I couldn’t remember the number for the house where I was staying, but I compromised and wrote my screen name on a scrap of paper using a pen that he produced from his pocket. After a very nice hug we parted ways.
He was only going to be in Querétaro for two more weeks, and several times during the interim he tried to meet up with me for lunch or to go running. Too awkward and nervous to attempt anything like a date, I weaseled out of it every time. Eventually we both left Mexico, and once again I thought that would be that.
To be continued...
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