Of course I met a Spaniard. At a train station. On the way to Madrid.
Because this is my life. And my life likes to mock me.
How did we meet, you ask? Well, as mentioned in previous posts, I overpacked. And while I did consolidate, I can’t pick up the heavy rolling bag…so he helped this struggling dummy through security.
And why wouldn’t I be wearing activewear with no makeup while he was sporting a suit for an overall look that rivaled Gael García Bernal (Don’t know who this is? Google him. I’ve been obsessed since Y Tú Mama Tambien)?
This is the stuff I dream about. The stuff movies are made of. And I said no to drinks followed by a stroll through Madrid. Because I can’t drink or date. #%^* my life.
This is oddly reminiscent to my summer semester at Oxford University. Before I left, my mom told me about meeting a handsome foreigner (I think Italian?) on a train and he asked her to stay and travel together. She said no and mentioned she always wondered what if (Until she met my dad, of course. Think that’s romantic? Read the story about how my parents got together – also abroad.).
Flash forward to three weeks later when I meet a premed Harvard student and he asks me to join him in Italy with friends for the weekend. I say no. AND I STILL WONDER!!
So as I sit on the train typing this, I can’t help but think this whole “no dating or alcohol” thing is completely ruining my life…
Photography: Madrid, Spain ©Joelle Pittman