His name was Hro. I had come to Costa Rica to do my Student Teaching and would be there a total of three months. A couple weeks in, on the way to a local concert, I saw him. I was in the car with my friend Maria Paula, waiting for some boys we were picking up. The first thing I saw was his shadow – broad and tall. I looked up as he was running his hand through his perfectly combed over hair, eyes sparking, laughing as he and his friend made their way to our car. We made eye contact through the window and I involuntarily stopped breathing.
As he
walked around the front of the car, I caught my breath,
“Mari,
who is that?”
“Hro...why?”
At that moment the car doors opened and
the boys jumped in. As Mari introduced me, I flashed a smile at the
adorable friend named Uribe, and then found myself unable to look away Hro's gaze.
“Hola.” He said with a rather shy
smile.
“Hi.” I mustered, then I turned
back around. Mortified.
_______________________________
So that is how we first met. I was
warned against him, a few times. (Maria Paula, Maria, Mela...I wave
my white flag of surrender). After the concert, he followed me on
Instagram, left flirty comments, and floated to mind from time
to time. It wasn't until one Sunday, standing alone, waiting for my
ride after church, that someone tapped me on the shoulder. About a
month after meeting him, he magically appeared before me. I was so
excited to see him that I wrapped him in a huge hug. We stood there
with sheepish smiles, and talked Spanglish for a moment before he had
the audacity to ask for my number, which I gave to him, of course.
Later that week, while relaxing at home
on a Thursday night, I invited him over to my host home. We had been
trying to hang out all week, and it just so happened he was free the
night I was making cookies (the key to any man's heart). We ate
chocolate chips, showed each other pictures of our families, and
shamelessly flirted the entire night. We spoke Spanglish, more
Spanish than English, but somehow we understood each other perfectly.
As I walked him out to his car and hugged him goodbye, we stood
under the a perfectly full moon in the rich Costa Rican breeze, and
suddenly I couldn't help myself. Maybe it's all those chick flicks,
or maybe it's the hopeless romantic in me – irreguardless I looked
up at him with my baby blues as the following words thoughtlessly
poured from my mouth, “Hro, I feel like I want to kiss you.” To
this day I am still amazing that at his rapid response as I
motionlessly experienced the most electrifying kiss. Even now, as I
reflect on it can't help but smile...it was perfect. He drove away,
promised to text me, and I promptly walked inside and collapsed to
the floor. What. Was. Happening.
The next week involved cuddle sessions, dates for ice cream and pizza, a late night tour of the city on his moto (don't tell Dr. Brittan!) and precious texts that I woke up to every morning. To say I was swept off my feet is an understatement. During my week vacation from school, I left for a short adventure with my gringa friend, Kat. We had a wonderfully amazing and hilarious time, but I'll admit I was restless to get back to a certain Tico who had remained in the back of my mind. On our bus ride back, I texted him something to the extent of, “There's a certain gringa excited to see a certain Tico very soon.” And he immediately replied, “A gringa who holds the heart of this Tico.” Ok, as I write it sounds cheesy, but in that moment a profound butterfly-like sensation made it's way from my heart to my toes. Subconsciously, I reached for my ipod and journal. After putting Taylor Swift's “Red” on repeat, I scribbled the excerpt you read above. It was then that I began to feel something more than “like” towards this romantical young man.
The next weeks were much of the perfect same. He as a gentleman – he would walk on the side of the street with the cars, insist on paying for everything, and held my hand...fingers intertwined. He took me to his house, introduced me to his family, and always texted me goodnight. His last adorable moments were the night before my last day of school. I was making cookies and notes for my students and he came over just to hang. We played tic-tac-toe, doodled tattoos we'll never get, and each wrote the each other a note, which I still have (but may end up throwing it in Cedar Lake – for those of you who know that story, I'm laughing with you. If you've never heard it, ask me sometime, you won't be sorry :).
My last weekend there, he wanted to go to the beach for a day. We planned it weeks in advance, and I was beyond excited. The day, however, ended with me sitting on a bus, deciding that I'm not in love with this Prince Charming after all. I'm thinking there may be another girl (or two), or maybe he became blatantly bi-polar overnight, but that day, everything was different. He wasn't excited to see me, he didn't hold my hand, he didn't make me laugh like he always did...and the sparkle in his eyes was gone. When I asked him what was wrong, he told me he was just sick and tired. That was true, but the end fact was: he wasn't there. Even though he was right beside me all day, he was long gone. (This is the part where I had “I Knew You Were Trouble.” on repeat if that last line sounds familiar.) So it was there, on hot an sticky bus ride, equal to the one I took only a short month before, that I pulled back my heartstrings...one by one.
Although I was warned (several times) about getting heartbroken, I don't think that's what I am. I think my heart, ironically, is wiser than ever. Hro taught me so much: he gave me a glimpse of what a relationship looks like, set a standard of how I deserve to be treated, and confirmed that this little darling seriously isn't ready for anything serious. I have Taylor to thank for writing songs about me and my heart, that I still can't stop listening to. More importantly, however, I am grateful to my Savior, because He knew I needed a little Hro in my life. For one month, for the first time in my life, I needed to be treated like a Princess. I needed to add a million bullet points to my “Liem John Gilmore III” list (what I named my future husband – God bless him). I needed to realize, again, that above all I am HIS Princess, and I am fine china.
I needed a taste of
what's to come, and to surrender (again) to HIS perfect timing.
In closing,
“Loosing him was
blue like I've never known
Missing him is dark
gray all alone
Forgetting him is
like trying to know somebody you've never met...
But loving him was
red. Burning Red.”
-Taylor
Swift Red
Xxoo,
From a
not-heartbroken, optimistic, memories-filled, expectations
heightened, stronger little darling
p.s. Hro, if you're
reading this (or more likely if Uribe is translating it for you) just know
that you're lucky you're out of range of my daddy's shot gun...but
word on the street is he's building a missile. Watch. Yo. Back.
