A moderately funny story about why I'll probably always be single

I was wondering when this would happen.

There is always one of those guys who is way too attractive for his own good, and he always finds his way into my line of vision (multiple times), and I always fail miserably.

The first time I saw him it was fine. He works at this really great restaurant here in Antigua called Luna De Miel—“Honey Moon.” Yeah I know: great! A really beautiful man works at a place called Honey Moon. What next? A Nicholas Sparks novel? Don’t worry. I promise, there is nothing about my life that could possibly be turned into a romantic novel of any kind. Ok, maybe I’d be a grade B Romantic Comedy at best. But enough of that…The first time or two I saw him I was with friends at this restaurant and he wasn’t even our server, or maybe he brought our food. I don’t know. But I didn’t have to talk to him, so no harm done.

Yet.

Let’s fast forward. Now I am going to the gym because I haven’t been in almost 2 months, and I a miss it. Correction: I don’t actually like gyms that much, but I miss being active at all, and running within the city of Antigua is…interesting (more especially if all you brought to run in was yoga pants).

So here I am. I’m rockin’ it out on the Elliptical, sweating up a storm and probably mouthing the words to whatever Flo-Rida or LMFAO song I have  pounding in my ears (I grant you full freedom to judge my taste in music) when who should walk by but this beautiful Guatemalan man.

*Brief interjection: I don’t know if you have traveled in this part of the world at all but I’ll just go ahead and say that the men are short. Now I don’t mean this in a bad way at all. It’s fine because the women are short too. There also isn’t a lot of facial hair to go around for the Latin American population. Also, not a bad thing, just not my personal preference. I guess I like my guys to look like they just walked down off the mountain (tall and scruffy that is). And so we come to this guy (Who I shall henceforth call “Javier” for lack of an actual name). Javier is tall. And Dark. And scruffy. And nicely toned. And he has pretty, bouncy afro curls that he pulls back in a pretty, bouncy pony-tail. (Not exactly mountain-man…but as close as I’ve seen so far).

…When who should walk by, but Javier. He proceeds to warm up on the treadmill in front of me, which is fine, I still don’t have to talk and I get to watch the bouncy curls. Anyway I finish my time on the elliptical, dripping like I just got out of a shower and as red a cooked lobster. I see a room to the side that I figure I can hide in and stretch a little while. It has a few weight-machine things, but it’s carpeted and there aren’t any other people so I go for it. I get a mat and proceed to stretch it out. You know the usual, arms across the body, or around behind the back, down to touch your toes. Throw in a few crunches. It’s all going fine until I start the plank (You know, the thing where you support yourself on just your toes and elbows, keeping your body as level as possible.)

 If he had come in at any other time it might have been fine because I might have actually been able to get a sentence out when he accidentally knocked my water bottle over. He came in during the last 30 seconds of my plank and I had probably turned from red to purple and was doing everything in my power to breathe, let alone say “Sí, es mi agua, pero está bien.” I think I might have croaked out something like “yes… My water... Sorry… Bien.”  Gracias a Dios he only did a few reps at that particular machine before leaving for something else. I finished my plank and collapsed to the floor. I figured since he had left that he wouldn’t be returning, so what better time to do a headstand?! I don’t know. They feel really nice sometimes when the body is tired. So yeah that’s what I did. So I’m upside-down getting ready to raise my legs up when he comes back in again and plops back down at that same machine for another round. Well I’m committed now. I slowly lift my legs until I’m perfectly vertical then proceed to pray that this isn’t the one time my center of gravity decides to take leave. It’s not. But I’m still upside-down, I’m still probably purple, and I still can’t redeem my previous attempt at human speech.

So not much else happens at the gym. He leaves again and I decided it’s time to call it a day. I right myself and touch my toes one more time for good measure, then bolt for the door before he can come back in.

Fast forward again: It’s dinner time. I’m hanging out with Augusta for possibly the last time before I leave. We decide to go to “Luna De Miel” because, as I mentioned before, it’s really good (All they serve is crepes and they are amazing), and it had kind of become tradition for us. Of course he was working, why wouldn’t he be? Gracias a Dios otra vez that he wasn’t our server. I almost made it through the whole night actually without having to open my mouth. I smiled and nodded once in that hey I recognize you and I guess you probably recognize me but we haven’t met so I’m going to be awkward and just nod kind of way. It was great. I’ve got that dialed.

Then it was time to pay and leave. We walked down to the cash register and I gave Augusta money for my half the ticket, then she gave me her card and ran to the bathroom. Ok, I thought. Then I looked up. Well shit. I have to talk to him now. Here’s how it went:

Javier: “¿Estuviste al gimnasio hoy?” [You were at the gym earlier?]

Me: “Sí”

Javier: “Mucho ejercicio.” [a lot of excercise]

Me: “Sí…mucho…mucho…much needed?”

Javier: “¿Por qué?” [why?]

Me: (Really…you’re going to make me keep going?) porque…um…porque (AAAHHHGGG! I know this!)

um…sentir…mejor?

Javier: ¡Ah Sí! Me siento mejor. [I feel better]

Me: (UGH. I knew that…now I sound like that stupid American girl who can’t speak the language.) Me siento mejor. Sí. Gracias…um. ¿Buenas Noches? Um. Muchas Gracias.

And that’s it. I’m not actually sure I looked him in the face during that whole conversation. Of course my good bye was made exponentially better by the fact that I turned to leave and realized that I had to wait for Augusta so instead of walking out the door and waiting outside like any other slightly humiliated person trying to preserve an ounce of dignity, I stood awkwardly by the checkout counter looking at anything and everything except Javier.

I guess in the end it’s better this way. I’m not looking for a Latin Lover by any means. I can hardly function in a relationship with someone who speaks English, and I’m leaving Guatemala in a week anyway. I do need to work on my confidence though. I can speak Spanish. I can hold a simple conversation, even about working out at the gym. Maybe I’ll redeem myself this weekend if Mom by chance wants to eat crepes when she visits.