I did it all for the story*
*to the tune of Limp Bizkit*
With over two weeks into an unrelenting heatwave in Mexico City, I’m starting to yearn for the languid humid summers of NYC where weird things happened and your main mission was to try to find an air conditioned escape - movie theater, bar, hotel bar, hotel pool. With no air conditioning, and strangely no pools, in this city that use to be lake, I’ve decided instead to push myself to an extreme: hot yoga. I’m not sure if it’s just old age that makes working out feel as exciting as it used to feel to go to a club, but the forced pain of heat on heat is making me hallucinate montages of my past days as a single in the city. I keep singing to myself: “I did it all for the story, the what, the story” in the tune of Limp Bizkit’s I Did It All For The Nookie. This week you’ll get a glimpse of that mirage of a past life. So if you enjoy, I encourage you all to send me your love questions so I can indulge in my past even further.
When I was 12 I went on an exchange program to a country that very very very far away - long story short - I meet this guy that was 14 and for ever we where flirty online ( literally 18 years ) he came to visit / meet me again - it went great , he left and now think I’m falling in love with a fireman that lives in literally another hemisphere.
- Should I Pursue?
Dear Should I Pursue,
The romance! The passion! The absolute Rom Com of it all! It’s not so often we get to hear about a real life meet cute let alone one that practically outdates the internet! And one with a FIREMAN?! Be still my chiclit heart, this is the stuff Lifetime screenplays are made of.
But of course, with any cross-country, multi decade long romance plot - reality often clouds the thrill of everlasting love. By now, both of you probably have fleshed out lives and thickening roots in your hemispheres. And while the story might be too good to not pursue, the urge to take a reckless leap of love might not be as strong as it was in our 20s.
Let me tell you a little tale that is NSFL (Not Safe For Lifetime). Back before my days of blissful baby cuddling and headaches after one glass of wine, I was a bit of a romance thrill seeker. Some may say I was in the Hannah Horvath school of thinking that putting yourself in dumb circumstances might warrant sexy content for the ever looming memoir. I often did things just for the story. But GIRLS can’t be to blame for all our regretful decisions in the 2010s, so let’s say I was acting independently.
Anyway, in the early days of dating apps I went on a very normal, very drunken date with a video game designer in Brooklyn that ended in me going back to his apartment. He was in a band. He was tall. He had a job. And the sex, as I remembered it, was better than average, so the possibility of seeing each other again seemed in the cards. The only thing was I was leaving for Puerto Rico in the morning for a family vacation, so it would have to wait. But it didn’t.
In between snorkeling excursions with my family and drinking Coquitos with my mom, we kept our conversations rampant. As I texted, weightless in a hammock in the humid breeze, the hazy outline that he was that night grew into a full grown Rom Com stud.
“When will I see you again?” he asked.
“Just come to San Juan” I joked.
“I just bought a ticket” he said.
Turns out he wasn’t joking.
I snuck away from my family to meet him on the beach the next day. This was the Mary Kate and Ashley sexy beach rendezvous of my teen dreams! And I figured if he could afford to fly with one days notice during peak season he might really be a catch for a poor twenty something writer like me. Or at least the story would be enough.
But when I saw him I hardly recognized him compared to the vision I had created in my head. Deathly thin, hunched and coughing, skinny jeans and converse trudging through the sand. He awkwardly hugged me and said how expensive drinks were here, that his mom didn’t give him enough to cover more than the flight and hotel so we’d have to go gambling later to try to win big. His parents were concerned about him in the New York cold, he’d developed a lingering cough, and a trip sounded like a good chance to get him out of his rut of just playing video games all day. “I think I have enough money to go jet skiing though…”
Right. Not a video game designer by trade, more of a video gamer by hobby. Not really in a band, more just into bands. It wasn’t the first time my memory of a night had been manipulated by my own narrative, but this time I had maybe gone to far. But here we were. A second date an ocean away. Might as well go jet skiing.
I had to get off after the first time around. He was too fast and wouldn’t stop. He spent the next 4 hours maxing out his debit card on the jet ski rides while I watched him, trying to convince myself to stay. I went to dinner with my parents while he slept and let them know a friend was in town so I’d be going out that night. I had to see it through.
We went to the casino. He wore a suit and must have asked his parents for more money because he bought us drinks and gave me some chips to play with. I was up $300 on roulette, more money than my barista paycheck. At least the story was paying off, I thought.
We went back to his small hotel room and attempted to have sex. He coughed the whole time and decided it wasn’t worth the effort. “Don’t worry if you hear me screaming in my sleep” he told me, turning over in the twin bed, “I sometimes dream about killing my ex”.
I left early in the morning, walking on the beach at sunrise back to my shared room with my parents and sister. I took them all out to breakfast with my winnings, bought myself some chachkis, and avoided his texts all day. I was leaving the next morning and knew he was on the same flight home.
On the plane he was giddy - he had won even more cash that night and ridden the jet skis all day. He tried to switch his seat to be closer to me but the elderly couple must have smelled my desperation or not spoken English. He sent me another Bloody Mary and the flight attendant let me know they were cutting off my friend after the next drink. I nodded, that was probably a good choice.
When we landed he told me he’d decided what he was going to do with his life and the extra money from roulette. “I’m going to be a fighter pilot in the Air Force!” I said it was probably a good choice and made up a reason to get a cab home alone to avoid the subway ride together, spending the last of what I had won. He texted me that night and let me know the Air Force had rejected him because he had flat feet.
So SIP, if this doesn’t convince you…the answer is yes. Take the risk. Be irrational and stupid. Follow your love and see where it takes you. Not because it worked for me but because it could have. Because even if the experience is an absolute horror, you will always have the story.
Despite what the Rom Coms say, life is boring and love doesn’t come very often. So as long as you 1) actually know this person like you say you do, 2) are not putting yourself in danger like I might have, and 3) are not signing a lease together (aka you have an escape plan) - why not risk it? Yes, you might get hurt. Things may get complicated and both of you will surely have to make compromises. But you’ll know pretty early if you made a mistake and hopefully you’ll trust your gut (unlike I did) to end it. Better to have taken the risk than to be old and wondering what could have been. Better to have the regret than to live life without the story.
I Did It All for The Pork Chops
Despite the heat, I’ve been cooking these chops about once a week and while I do not think they are Puerto Rican at all, you can definitely imagine you are on a sexy beach with a lover while you eat them. Add all 5 jalapeños to the marinade. Take the risk. Embrace the regrets. And eat it all up.
Check out the original recipe here or a non paywalled version here - and I’m sure you can use this marinade for chicken or anything else because it’s fucking delicious. If you don’t want it spicy, take out the seeds before you blend the jalapeños, but I think it’s the perfect spice once it gets cooked. It’s nice on the grill, but I usually cook it in a cast iron to get it crispy and add the onions with abandon.