‘i was supposed to be in Seoul with C. but my body didn’t follow. after my big meeting i ended up with fever and sand in my kidneys’, Z. told me.
‘same for me. i was supposed to be in Tenerife with T. but after my presentation i felt i spent 2 hours in a boxing ring. i couldn’t leave the bed for a full day, got a lip soar and felt drained for a full week’, i said.
‘it’s a technical KO’, she concluded.
it’s crazy to think that by just sending emails and doing slides your body reacts like that. it’s not like we work in the mines, i though.
in the middle of the zombie week i received an unexpected message. ‘hey, i am in Paris, my flight is delayed for a day’, he wrote. ‘let’s have dinner together’.
we met 5 years ago dancing cumbia in Departamento, a club located in Roma district of Mexico City. we somehow kept in touch.
‘why not’, i wrote.
we talked about love and hate, and which one is more innate to the human condition. from Rousseau to Hobbes, and how social media is polarising us to love more what we love and to hate more what we already hate.
‘i quitted instagram’, he said. ‘and when sometimes i have to go back to check a dm, i want to throw up. it’s not just about consuming all types of content. it’s the people screaming consume me‘.
meanwhile i was listening to him i thought how come i was having one of the best conversations in a while.
and how sometimes we share physical intimacy before the intellectual one.
it was like i was seeing him for the first time. getting to know him from scratch.
mexican. airplane pilot. very cute. this is all i knew.
and i guess it was enough meanwhile we were dancing cumbia and we finished smoking some weed with Lovers rock of Sade at his place.
sometimes we don’t realise about the impact some people can have in us.
until that night, i never heard about Sade. and i have been obsessed with her since then.
i never thought i would see him again. and there we were. having dinner in rue des archives after a 5 years interlude.
i was confused about how you can connect like that with someone. having a crush is nice. having a crush with someone who lives 10.000 km away, not that much.
cosmos is always so pragmatic, i thought. this time, it was not a technical KO.
it was an emotional KO.
the week after i was in the office on my way to have lunch in our cantine. and it was pretty bad.
my most toxic relationship EVER was there, having a cigarette.
five years of in and outs. blocking him in WhatsApp and instagram to unblock him after a while. spending a weekend in Lille. blocking him again.
a never ending loop of toxicity. a walking red flag. a x file.
i dont shit where i eat. he is a photographer and i guess life just happened. mercure retrograde making him taking pics of people i work with.
we glimpsed each other. i walked in the opposite direction. and had nothing for lunch.
i texted B. ‘hey, toxic man is here, in the office. i think i am shaking’.
he call me and for 10 minutes we couldn’t understand this coincidence. once i vented all my stress and decided it was enough for the day.
when i made it home and opened instagram, i saw the strangest message request. from my mother.
‘i just heard you divorced. hope you are ok’.
well… i guess this is what happens when you don’t speak to your mother for the last 20 years. she gets the information from other sources and with seven years delay.
i went to bed at 7.30 pm. i was scared of what else could happen if i stayed awake.
the night after i was having dinner with the guy i haven been seeing for the last 3 months.
he came back from Beirut of a 15 days holiday. he was visiting friends and family. ‘i went to the engagement parties of two of my best friends. i really want to get married and have kids’, he said.
for once was pretty refreshing to have a guy knowing what he wants. ‘that’s great’, i said.
‘well… i can’t have kids. and for me it’s pretty soon to have this conversation, don’t you think?’.
‘maybe. but i should be putting my energy and time in meeting the people who share the same life objective’, he concluded.
fair enough, i thought. it was clean. it was honest. and it was beautiful. i liked him.
on my way home, i struggled to understand how after decentering men for the last 7 years, i could have a month like this one.
and why it was having such a big impact in my mood.
and then i connected the dots. i saw a story of A. getting ready for a Friday night: ‘it’s scorpio season, babes’.
and then i understood. as messy and intense as it can get, scorpio season always punches you.
still, i researched a bit online. ‘Scorpio season isn’t here to make friends; it’s here to make you confront every buried resentment, unprocessed trauma and uncomfortable truth you’ve been politely ignoring’.
great, i thought. what can i say.
i am in a technical and emotional KO. maybe even under construction.
but they say scorpio season it’s transformative. if you survive it.