Where Things Almost Began

"...And then… we never spoke again. Until…"

I have so much to tell you. Today I struggled a little, and the subject is love.

For some time now, more or less four years ( gosh, I can’t believe it’s already been that long ), I’ve dived into the deep waters of dating apps. Why? Validation, maybe. At the time, I had no idea what I was getting myself into. In my head, it all felt exciting: new territory to explore, new people, new connections.

So much has happened since then that I could never fit it all into one story. Today, I’ll tell you the most recent one:

Last night, I went on a second date with a guy. Let’s call him H.

But first, our first date.

I had come to this country searching for direction, trying to make big decisions about my life. I was standing between two options: staying in the unknown or going back home to the familiar. I chose to go back. And somewhere along that journey, thanks to my sister, I downloaded a dating app, despite all my dramatic “ I’m never using these apps again! ” declarations.

That’s where I met H.

I was in a city far from the capital, where he lives, so we talked from a distance, interesting conversations, easy curiosity. We agreed that if I ever went to his city, I’d text him. Shortly after, I deleted the app (again) and we lost contact.
When it was time to go home, my flight departed from the capital. So what did I do? I downloaded the app, again. And after only a few swipes, there he was. H.

To me, it felt like the universe nudging me. Like something meant to be.

We started talking immediately. I only had one day left in town and was leaving early the next morning, so we didn’t waste time. We planned a date.“Meet me at the statue at 8:00 pm,” he said.
Then it became 8:30.
Then he messaged again, traffic, chaos, nowhere to park.
He arrived at 9:00 pm, apologetic and flustered, still without a proper parking spot. We rushed to park the car properly, both of us back to the city center, hoping to make it to the museum before it closed at 10:00 pm.
We didn’t make it.
And somehow, that was okay.

Between hurried steps and heavy breathing, we talked. We laughed. He was charming, sarcastic, smart, a gentleman, a little mysterious. And without realizing it, I was already smitten.
Since the museum was out of the question, we went to a quiet, elegant bar nearby. One drink turned into long conversations, laughter, subtle seduction. We walked through the city afterward, admired the architecture, teased each other, until we kissed.

What a kiss.

It had been a long time since a kiss felt like that. The taste of his lips, his scent, everything felt right.
Knowing I’d be gone the next day, we decided not to overthink things. Why waste time?
At his place, everything intensified. It started beautifully. But when it came to the moment where things usually shift, his body didn’t quite follow. That only made him more nervous. I was calm at first, but slowly I began to spiral, turning the situation inward, wondering if it was me, if somehow I wasn’t attractive enough, even as he kept reassuring me that it wasn’t.
The air grew a little awkward after that. Eventually, things found their way forward again, though by then my excitement had dimmed. I went along with it, present but no longer fully there.

Later, we lay in bed talking. He sang to me, and somehow that softened everything. We stayed like that, two people quietly resisting time, both dreading the morning.
Some time after, he drove me back to my hostel.
I remember seating there, unable to fully process the night. It had been unexpected, intense, confusing, tender.
We talked about meeting again someday, if I ever returned. We kissed.
And then… we never spoke again.

Until…

This is where I’ll pause the story. Not because it’s finished, but because if I keep going, it will become something else entirely. There’s more that came after, another date, another unraveling, another lesson, and it deserves its own space. I’ll tell that part in another letter.

For now, I want to leave you with the thoughts I wrote to myself that same day, sitting at the airport, still carrying the weight of the night before. A small reflection, raw and unedited, exactly as it came to me:

" It’s not the bad dates that leaves you in regret.

It’s the breathtaking ones,

The magical, unexpected, but ultimately finite moments that pierce the heart.

The glimpse of what could have been but never will be.

The fading sound of laughter, the shared jokes, the kisses, the stories, the gazes.

It’s the crushing, romantic hope that rises from the darkest depths of the soul.

How dare they awaken the sleeping monster,

When it only wanted to drown in disbelief

And sink into the waters of senselessness."

And maybe that’s what love does sometimes, not stay, not grow, not become, but awaken something in us that we thought had learned to sleep.

To be continued...

xoxo Mia