something uma thurman and i have in common

24hrs after i arrived in madrid, january '08, i was kissing a really cute little south american outside of a salsa club. he was the third to attempt it that night, the cutest, the best dancer, and so the only one to get a taste. when he suggested a little more than a taste, i begged off saying i'd just left my boyfriend in belgium on monday. 'so? today's wednesday,' he said. i hadn't thought of the implications of the phrase, tomorrow is another day. tomorrow is another day, another thought, another feeling, and if you're smart, the beginning of another life.

well i began many new lives during that month in madrid. most lasted only one kiss. like with sandro, an italian with a huge belly. of course, standing next to that bad ass red ducati racer like he was when i met him, i didn't notice it. actually, he was so nice when we went out that night, and had so many clever things to say about sarkozy and hugo chavez, that i didn't notice how physically unattractive he was until he kissed me. when i felt absolutely nothing, i stopped. never kissed him again. and the more nothing i felt, the more insistent he became. making plans, and calling me multiple times a day. i stopped seeing him even as a friend, and eventually left madrid without even saying goodbye.

5 months later, tuesday, to be exact, he appeared in bcn. walked right past me on las ramblas. i was so shocked, i froze. then i ran and hid in a shop. i was hoping he didn't recognize me, but alas he must have. because peeking from behind the shop door, i saw that he'd reversed, and walked past the shop in the direction opposite to where he had been heading. he couldn't be here for me. not possible. it's even less possible that he actually found me.

2 days later, i'd forgotten all about it and as i enjoyed a morning of home decoration shopping. singing along to my ipod on the way from the fabric store to habitat's bedding department, i felt a tap on my shoulder. i turned around, took out my earplugs. fuck. unreal. he found me twice? 'wow!' he tried to act surprised. 'you live here? look, i've been here since monday. what's your phone number again?' i gave it up. i couldn't hide, obviously. he had a knack for finding me. or following me. wasn't sure which. but i figured when he called me, i'd calmly explain that i didn't want him. at all. that he should definitely forget me and go back to madrid. yes. i'd reason with him.

i braced myself to read the first message.

he perdido el avion y estoy en barçelona. tomamos algo?

-as in-

i missed my plane so i'm still in barçelona, can we have a drink?

does he think i'm stupid? actually, he does. back in madrid, he'd told me that his last girlfriend was black and brazilian. and that what he loved most about black women was that they always had a smile on their faces. wtf?? uh uh. i am no man's noble savage. recognize. he dug his grave with that one. and obviously, he didn't catch on to my complete and utter intolerance for dumb shit, as evidenced by the 'missed my plane' gambit. now i was pissed.

1-by-1, my dear friends expressed their concern. what if he's following you? what if he knows where you live? what are you going to do? tear his black woman fetishizing, stalking italian ass limb from limb, i'd say. metaphorically speaking, of course. but what did i do vis-a-vis the text? i summarily ignored it, and headed to the grácia neighborhood where argentinian mcdreamy was cooking me dinner. i received only one more sad and lame text from him that night. it read:

aicha, no es como antes. tomamos algo y te cuento.

- as in -

aicha, it's not like before. let's meet, and i'll tell you . . .

and with that i fully appreciated the fact that he. is. crazy. there was no before. there was one kiss, one coffee date, and two nights in a club. the last club night, i flirted with some lesbians all night, hoping he'd get the hint: i'm not gay, but homegirl here has more of a chance than you do.

i ignored the last text too. and totally enjoyed dinner, moonlight, and dessert with my mcdreamy.


* about that title, some crazy man called jack was arrested this week for stalking the leggy blonde movie star. it's the stalking we have in common. and well, the hotness.