The Visit and the Last Dance – Entry 81

Dear Diary

It’s almost as if the Gods were listening to my prayers the last time I wrote you. The Spaniard came to Seville as he said he would and my Father wasn’t too pleased with this stranger joining us -“where did you say you this guy again??”.

My biggest concern was the sleeping situation – my Father wanted him to sleep in the spare bed in his room which would be confronting for anyone….thankfully, this situation resolved itself without me needing to lift a finger. The Spaniard’s night flight was delayed by two hours. I didn’t tell my Father this as I knew he’d wear himself out waiting for the arrival. When The Spaniard finally arrived we found my Father unwell with a cold that had come on suddenly. He seemed miserable and said he didn’t want to pass on the cold to The Spaniard. The sleeping arrangement was not discussed any further during the two day and three night visit (they say it’s best to let sleeping dogs lie…or sleeping lovers in this case). The Spaniard was unofficially allowed to sleep in my bed by default.

The night of his arrival we went out dancing. It was so much fun. Between us there was a lot of chemistry and I loved his subtle smell and gentle caressing touch. I only had eyes for him on that dance floor and his were for me only.

I was surprised and thankful for how well The Spaniard and my Father got along during the stay. The Spaniard was very tentative to us both and fitted in so well. He brought us a gift of snap dried thinly sliced pork which is apparently a delicacy in Spain. I didn’t realise how special it was but soon understood from his reaction when I suggested cooking it to make spaghetti for dinner – sacrilege in other words. He went to the shops soon after and got the appropriate bread and tomato that needed to accompany the meat.

We made love morning and night. He certainly knew how to please a woman. I couldn’t help but wonder if his Ex knew how fortunate she had been when she was with him. The Spaniard and I had to be quiet as my Father’s room was just down the hallway and sound travelled very easily in that apartment.

The whole weekend he was so loving and caring. It was like we were an established couple. He took some photos of us during an evening walk we had. So far, he has sent me the one of us kissing on a balcony overlooking the Plaza of Spain – my favourite part of Seville as it was just magical.

He told me he really liked me and everything that he knew about me so far. He said that I was beautiful inside and out. He liked my sense of humour and also asked me if I could see myself having children one day. It just felt so right being in his company.

He left early on Tuesday morning so that he could be at his son’s fifth birthday party. It was sad to see him go as Seville felt empty without him. I knew though that we would see each other again the next night when I was back in Barcelona.

That next night was tonight…my last night in Spain. The Spaniard came to pick me up to go dancing at 10.30pm. I was secretly hoping for a romantic dinner invitation – not so lucky. He took me to a nice salsa bar and we danced for hours. He encouraged me to dance with other men too so that I’d be guaranteed a good evening filled with dance. I noticed some distance between us, less passion but still connection. At 2.30am I said it was time for me to leave as I was tired. We had one last dance together – the music is still playing in my mind. It’ll be the music that sparks the memory of my Summer in Spain with the Spaniard until the day I die. I was secretly hoping he’d suggest hiring a hotel room for a few hours to spend just a little more time together. This didn’t happen.

In the car outside my hotel we spoke briefly. There were two concurrent conversations – the things said and the things unsaid. The things unsaid were that he will not be coming to visit for a long time as his holidays are dedicated to his son. He also wants to remain in contact but nothing more than the secret whirlwind lover affair during a Spanish summer. The photos we have will not be shared beyond ourselves either, they are not for the world to see.

Diary,  I’ve got that mild choking sensation in my throat when you’re heart is breaking. I wish I could be with him. My heart feels like it’s yearning for him. I wish I could keep him as my own forever. I wish that he’d chase me and fight for our love. I think what hurts the most is knowing that this last part won’t happen. Could it be that I’ve found a soul mate who is a world apart from me? It is cruel in a way that it will likely never be as I have my life and future to consider as well. I’ve sacrificed myself for love once before with Bear…I’m very hesitant to even entertain the idea again…but if he aked me to be his would I be able to forge a new life in Spain?

He will take my Father and I to the airport at midday. My mind is thinking about what more I’d like to say to him before we never see each other again…do any words exist that would change the course of the future?


Image: [Jana Gouthova] ©

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