2 girls

I met you at the airport; you were both dressed terribly and looked like shit. I was recovering from a cold, and had no real interest in picking up two teachers who would probably annoy me. You were lively though, eager to take in a new city. 

For lunch, a nice barbecue place, cheap, you were either kind of broke or maybe just cautious about your money. Your friend had little experience outside of the US; her quiet demeanor slowly let out as she felt settled and started talking and would probably never shut up. You were measured in your questions, and I was as charming as I could be, quickly smitten. 

We all walked up those endless stairs, us the tour guides, you girls amazed at pretty much anything, apparently. The city of Guayaquil is a port city, and it started on a hill called Santa Ana. The old neighborhood of Las Peñas has been remodeled in the last 10 years after nearly 50 of neglect. The endless stairs are actually only about 1400, but the view from the top, by the chapel, makes the trek worth it. The pictures were all pretty and you guys couldn’t stop taking more.

The old bar was nice, the music was a mix of salsa, cumbia and other latin rhythms. We all stuff ourselves into a small both, boy girl boy girl and I sat next to you. You were intriguing to say the least, but not mysterious. Your openness was refreshing and I couldn’t help but fall into your words. Talking about travel, seeing the world, all I had ever wanted to but was too afraid to try. We drank a few beers; I was very much impressed with your pace. 

We sat outside, you smoked a cigarette and showed me a pair of tattoos, memories of old trips and each an incredible adventure, that you shared readily. Not a weekend in and all you already thought of making this one a memorable trip. No one can take away what you have lived, a silly credit card motto, but it lit your imagination. And there I was, when you said you wanted to travel the world, I just said I’d go with you.

Shit, I crushed too hard, your just not one to be held down. I couldn’t think of anything but you, and yet there’s nothing to think about. My friend tells me to go for your friend; she’s into you he said. Maybe that will take my mind of you, and pretty much kill any chance for us to do anything. It’s for the best, I don’t want to be hurt by you, because you will. When we hit the bar, I’m all over the redhead. She knows what’s up, but she’s game, it’s all about fun. You told me that you were ok with it, that you knew I wouldn’t hurt her. It’s just for fun you both said. You were right, but not in the way you thought.

Maybe we’ll meet again, you will go around the world, and maybe I could be there with you. I can dream, can’t I? But now I’m hurting, I tried to escape and yet I fell with someone else, fuck, I guess it was just meant to happen. I didn’t hurt her; I just let myself be hurt. Actually that’s not true, I hurt myself, because it wasn’t supposed to be more than fun. You both are far away, and maybe that’s for the best. Because I would just continue to fuck with my head, because I can’t do things half way and I can’t stop myself from falling all over every woman I meet. I just hope I didn’t close that door forever, maybe I can’t be anything more than a notch, but I should try to have fun with it.