The Chilean

The night I realized that the Man-Child was ghosting me, I had a girls night out with one of my dear married friends, who is also a mother to a beautiful little girl. Needless to say, she doesn't get out much anymore so we decided to have a wild time. While at a speakeasy, eating grilled cheese and downing Old Fashions, we talked about the Man-Child. As usual, she got to listen to my bitching about men, dating and how shitty it all is. After our first stop we ended up at a hole-in-the-wall dive bar, which happened to be hosting its final night before closing.

The bar was full of old people and a mediocre band, so we continued our drink fest. I had lost track of how many Old Fashions I had at this point. I decided to go out to the patio to see if I could find younger people to talk to (aka on the hunt for men). I happened upon a group of guys, and I decided to join their conversation since alcohol makes me brave. I told them about the movie I was working on at that time because I was really excited about it. The rest of the evening is a bit fuzzy as I was now fairly drunk, but a cute Chilean guy approached me and we began to talk. I noticed his Latin accent and called it out, telling him that he sounded like Maluma (a hot Colombian singer I am currently in love with). I vaguely recall asking him his age, because he looked young to me. My hunch was correct, he was 28 and I was 34. I was afraid of the 6 year age difference, because men are typically immature even in their 30s. In hindsight I should've listened to my gut, because odds are men in their late 20s are nowhere near the same life stage as a woman in her mid-30s. However, I was feeling very free and open to whatever so I continued to talk to him since I was enjoying myself.

After the bar closed we wandered over to IHOP with our friends. He sat there, quiet, drinking coffee, while the rest of us (still intoxicated) chowed down on breakfast. After our meal he gave me his phone to input my number- and I wrote my name as Morgan La Reina- because I am the queen (and my apartment's name has La Reina in the name). We became Facebook friends immediately, which I don't remember doing. I honestly never thought I would see him again, let alone hear from him. But I did. He text me and asked "when are you going to date me" and that won me over (although I didn't immediately go out with him because I was busy and made sure he knew that). It was honest, it was forward, and it was hot. I liked that he was pursuing me, because men, at least American men, don't do that anymore.

Our date was one of the greatest dates I had been on in an incredibly long time. He made me laugh, he was interesting, he was sexy (I love Latin men), and he acknowledged that I was funny as well. I have gone out with well over 100 men over the last 6 years, and nobody ever made me really laugh. And nobody ever appreciates or acknowledges my sense of humor. But he did, and that's what made him different.

We dated for about 5 months before it ran its course, and I have to say I enjoyed his company more than any other guy that I have dated thus far in my near 6 years of singlehood, which made it all the more painful when it ended. In the beginning we hung out a lot, and it was fun, and easy, and I didn't have to chase or ask for attention or do anything. I felt like I was with a really great friend, that I was also very attracted to.

Things soon started to change, I could feel it. It was right before his mother came to visit for an entire month. I had planned a fun day trip to go kayaking up in Big Bear. After that day I rarely saw the Chilean. I attributed this to his mother's visit since she had come all the way from Chile and would be staying a month. I had decided to not think too much about the fact that we weren't going out as much and I was determined to be understanding about it. However, even after his mother left things never went back to the way they first were. Immediately after she left, he went to see a movie with his roommate- despite me mentioning multiple times that I had wanted us to go to the movies. I had invited him over for dinner the next night because I truly missed his company. He accepted the invitation yet the next day he had suddenly remembered that he had a comedy show to go to. I wouldn't have minded so much if he had been the one to suggest another night to get together- I had to practically drag a date out of him since he doesn't like to plan for anything in advance- a quality that drives me insane. I was hurt because for a month all I wanted was to spend time with him, and I just felt like those feelings weren't mutual and that is what hurt the most. I wasn't a priority and I knew it.

Despite knowing in my gut that things weren't right, I tried to force it. Forcing it only made me resentful and unhappy. I was resentful that I kept asking him to go out with me and it wasn't being reciprocated. I was resentful because I didn't feel wanted. I kept keeping score, and I knew that I was giving far more than I was receiving. That seems to be the story of my life though. When the guy you've been dating suddenly becomes wishy washy when it comes to making plans it's time to just walk away. I don't know why it's so hard for me to do that. Instead of walking away I just let resentment grow toward this person whose company I enjoyed more than anything.

Inevitably we broke up- or rather I dumped him. I didn't want to, but I knew I had to. The final straw was when he broke plans with me and my friends to go to Six Flags Fright Fest even though he knew about it weeks in advance- yet he conveniently forgotten that he had a work session planned. What I hated most was that he never bothered to remember our plans or ever put anything in a calendar to stay organized. He cancelled on me the day of and all he could say was "I really fucked this one up, sorry," so I broke up with him via text, letting him know that I didn't accept his apology, that he didn't respect me or our plans, that he didn't even bother to make plans, and that I was 35 and knew what I wanted. I want to get married, and I want children, and I want to be with someone who is an active participate in our relationship. I told him I deserved better, and that he didn't have the maturity for a serious relationship, let alone to date. I went to Six Flags that night and had the best time with my friends and didn't think of him once.

The Chilean wanted to talk in person, and usually after I break up with someone I block them from all forms of communication; however, I decided to hear him out. The day we talked was one of the most painful days of my life. We were walking around outside, and he was asking about my family- I knew he was stalling and I just flat out asked him why the fuck he cared how my family was and what did he want? It turned out that he wanted to apologize to me in person for how he treated me. When someone you want to hate ends up apologizing, it's very hard to continue hating them. The hate dissipates into hurt and heartache. That's the best word for how I felt- heartbroken. He had admitted to pulling away- which I called him out on because I am no novice when it comes to dating men who pull away. He said he needed space to think about us and where things were going. He said that we were on two different paths; I have my life in order and I know what I want while he has no clue what he's doing or where he's going and is incapable of planning in advance.

What hurt the most was that he wanted to remain friends, because dating for six months wasn't nothing. But I explained (or shouted rather) that I didn't need any more fucking friends and I couldn't be friends because I had feelings for him. I also informed him that friendship is a two way street, and that both friends need to participate in seeing and speaking with one another- which he didn't seem to be capable of. While talking to him I cried more than I ever have in a very long time. That's because I had real feelings for him. Despite my crying he somehow managed to make me laugh, I don't know how he does it. He held me while I was crying, and I could feel myself caving in. I couldn't kick him out of my life, as much as it hurt.  After our talk I agreed to remain friends, but I would need time to heal. After he left I continued crying all night long.

The very next day the Chilean text me to inform me that he had been laid off, and even though I was still hurting I was able to offer up some words of encouragement that were genuine, not forced. Inside of me I still deeply cared for him but had no expectations of reconciliation. A month passed by and I reached out to him late one night in my luxurious hotel room at the Trump International, after I ran away from my family in Las Vegas. I vented to him my frustrations with my family and their fighting, and out of the blue he told me that he did miss me too sometimes and that he wasn't a robot. We then reminisced about our good times together, which then made me miss him more and I was beginning to regret breaking up with him.

Long story short, we rekindled our romance on Thanksgiving, against my better judgement, but we both genuinely missed each other. What I accept responsibility for is knowing how it was going to end again and letting it happen anyway. He was young, and still had so much growing up to do, and I was placing expectations on him that I knew he would never meet.

We broke up a second time shortly after Thanksgiving, but this time was permanent. I admit I was pretty harsh with him the second time around, mostly because my feelings were very hurt and I had felt used this time around. But I want to thank him for the fun he infused into my life. For so long dating wasn't fun anymore, and he made it fun. He made me laugh more than any other guy and he made me realize that that is a quality I absolutely need in the next man I date. I hope he finds the adventure he's looking for in his life and I wish him the best.