My little latin love story. Part 1 of who knows how many.

This is going to be an ongoing segment. I wrote this story some time ago but since it's a little long I am going to break it up into bits. Anyway, here we go.

It was just after Christmas and before New Years. It was that special time of year where you just spent a whole day with your family and you are gearing up to spend a whole night with your friends. It’s that transition time where you are not quite sure where you stand or quite what to do between parties. It was really bad this year because of the fact the only days before Christmas my girlfriend dumped me for a guy that she had been writing to. She had never met him physically but she choose him over me. It wasn’t really a surprise to me to find out later that things didn’t work out between the both of them.

I needed somebody to talk to, preferably a woman. Only a woman can give you the sympathy that you need that you would never get from your friends. Male friends would either make fun of you or ignore you. Often the male approach worked but I needed somebody who I could whine to and who would give me the pity I so dearly wanted. I couldn’t talk to my mom. I needed to feel like somebody pitied me without obligation.

I thought through all my female friends, Sarah? No, I lost contact with her before I left on my mission. Diana? No, she got married while I was on my mission and it just wouldn’t be right to whine to a married woman. I wasn’t all that surprised that that was the whole list. Most girls I knew I dated and if I dated them they broke up with me and I wasn’t very good at doing the ‘just friends’ bit. I tried it once, but you can only allow your heart to go through the grinder so many times listening to your old girlfriend talk about how so-and-so uses too much tongue. There are just things ex-boyfriends shouldn’t know despite what the all-knowing TV says. I remembered that October of last year, while I was still on my mission, a native Peruvian sister missionary gave me a birthday card that included her name, address and phone number.

I thought that if anyone would understand it would be a female that is or at least had recently gone though the pains of post mission life. I had fond memories of her; on the other hand it was more like entertaining memories about her. She wasn’t like other sister missionaries in the way she did things. She wasn’t a conformist so she stood out in my mind. So I found the card in my mission memory papers and gave her a call.

To be continued...