I traveled to the other side of the world for love… Was it worth it?
“My dear Sandra, I really want to share your story, “Hikari”, with my lesbian friend from Peru. The one I told you before. Remember her? I think she would love it. Would you consider sending me a pdf of your book? She doesn’t have much of her own money, and this would be a significant gift and a powerful story for her. A book by the famous Sandra Kyuumei!” Neil told me.
“Me? Famous?” I started laughing. For some unknown reason, Neil was one of my biggest fans. Actually, he was probably the only one. Not even my mom had taken the time to read my books. “Sure, I’ll send it to you,” I replied.
I did not know what lesbian friend from Peru he was talking about. Neil had many friends from Latin America, and I had a habit of mixing up their names. I wondered if her lesbian friend from Peru was the one who had been in rehab for her drug and alcohol abuse or if she was the one who had gone on a trip to South America with a man she had met on the same language platform where I teach Spanish.
I forgot about the incident until many months later when I received a text message from a girl called J. She said she had read my book and she wanted to talk about it. I was flattered.
I knew her background because Neil used to talk about her often. She had been diagnosed with bipolar disorder and had been to rehab a couple of times. Each hospitalization lasted a few months.
Oh, but she was clever and charming. Apparently, while she was in the hospital, she had charmed her own psychiatrist and slept with her. Hey! Most of us know a famous clown with a similar story!
I liked her, and I confided her my woes. I was dating another woman who was struggling with several mental illnesses, and it was taking a toll on me. J listened to me. She was sweet, encouraging, and respectful. For many months we texted each other and even set up a couple of video calls on Skype. She sent me songs that she played on her guitar. She showed me her poems, her stories, and her world. However, I did not see her as an object of interest. Not in the beginning. I was in another relationship and I wanted things to work with my partner. They didn’t. We were not on the same page. Our differences tore us apart. Although I suffered and cried many, many times, I was relieved it was over. I was finally free to find someone better for me. I turned to J.
Living in Peru wasn’t easy for J. Even though she was in her early twenties and by all means an adult, there were so many things that she was not allowed to do. Things that seemed like a basic right to me. She couldn’t work, couldn’t go to the gym, couldn’t go out with her friends, she simply couldn’t leave her house without her mother’s consent. Neither could she use the internet without her mom approving of it. Her mother’s obsessive control was rooted in the fear her daughter might relapse into drug addiction. She was a legal adult but was being treated as a child.
What did I like the most about J? Her sense of humor? Her intelligence? Or perhaps her capacity for analysis and self-reflection?
She was in her early twenties and I was almost at the end of them. Even though our age gap was only four years, I was very aware of it. Besides, she was bipolar, and even if she was being followed by a medical team, I had already dated someone similar, and it had been draining. And on top of everything, J loved cocaine.
I was infatuated with her and wanted to meet her in person. If that meant traveling to Peru, then I was ready to take that step. I bought a plane ticket. My friends thought I was acting crazy, that I was being impulsive. Maybe, but that was the only thing I could do. If it was in my hands to meet her in person, then I would meet her.
I wondered what it would have been like to see J for the first time. Would my expectations live up to reality? Would we like each other? Or would we perhaps realize we were not really attracted to each other? What would happen if the silence would suffocate us?
I did not think about our meeting on the Paris-Lima flight. I was calm. For that brief interval of time, everything was fine in the world.
It was at the moment of landing in Arequipa that I felt nervous.
What the hell are you doing, Sandra?
I got off the plane, shaking. I crossed the doors and there standing in front of the door was J, a big smile on her face and a red rose in her hand.
Her aunt recorded the video of my arrival and our first hug. My fears disappeared with that embrace. Since her aunt was standing behind us, I did not kiss her as I had planned.
We held hands during the car ride to my Airbnb. J was shaking as much as I was.
We spent some incredible days in Arequipa. She showed me her city. We went out to restaurants and cafés and even went to the Colca Canyon. I met her mother, her little sister, and some of her friends.
However, I had to leave Peru, my life was in Paris and I couldn’t stay any longer. I left J with a heavy heart, but with the promise to see each other again. We didn’t fulfill that promise.
One of J’s friends started confiding in me. He was the one who told me. She had slept with him a few days before I arrived in Peru. They have also made out while I was in the Airbnb in Arequipa after partying with them. They did it again as soon as I took the plane to come back to Paris. I confronted her. She didn’t deny it. I was expecting her to take some responsibility. To apologize. She didn’t.
She blamed it on her friend for telling me. She told me it was about power, about feeling that he would do anything for her. She said he meant nothing to her. He was just a toy. I couldn’t believe this was the same person who used to send me sweet audio messages. Was I hearing correctly? Not only was she being unfaithful, but she was also mistreating and using another human being just because she could? What? What kind of person does that?
She also mentioned that she had taken cocaine some days before my arrival with one of her friends. I was sure more than that had happened, even if she didn’t admit it. She had a long list of lovers, including almost all her male friends and some of her female friends. Fidelity is important to me, and this was not the relationship I wanted. This was not the way I wanted to be treated. We ended the relationship on good terms. There was no yelling, no insults, no misbehaving.
“I wish you the best. Take your illness seriously. Don’t let it control you.”
It was a good start. Romantic stories should always have a happy ending. I think they do, but the protagonists are not always the same. J stopped having a leading role in my life. It was for the best. Right after that breakup, I met the person I wanted to spend the rest of my life with, and every day I’m grateful for waking up next to her. J and I live in parallel lines that will never intersect.
So was traveling to the other side of the world and getting my heart broken worth it? Absolutely! I loved Peru. I loved the culture, the food, the people. But most importantly, I learned so many things about mental illness, about people, and myself. I realized that is important to have standards. If we want to be given, we need to ask first. We shouldn’t be ashamed to be picky and say goodbye when we don’t feel fulfilled in our relationships.
