You were my neighbor. I was young, about 22, and I was extremely naive. I was a hillbilly girl from rural Virginia. You were 30. You were a Mexican immigrant and a horse farrier and trainer. I suppose it’s possible that we may have crossed paths for a reason. I’m not so sure. We had a few things in common, mainly our passion for animals. I was working at the time as a kennel attendant at a veterinary hospital. We bonded over that well enough. I didn’t know what I was doing at all romantically and you definitely knew that, I’m sure. We never really knew each other that well. I’m reflecting on our short lived tryst because I have now approached 30.
I never cared about our cultural differences. I never cared that you were Native. It never really occurred to me that you were, even with the big dream catcher tattoo on your neck. Yes, I was that clueless. I don’t think you ever cared about me being white. I think you were more concerned with just getting laid, truthfully. I remember losing my virginity to you in the forest, off the side of the road on the Blue Ridge Parkway. We would sneak away to the woods on several occasions to have fun.
I remember asking if you would teach me Spanish and you responded with an attitude, explaining how you weren’t my teacher. I didn’t expect you to give me lessons anyway. I just thought you had a lovely accent. I had purged my Appalachian accent as a young woman because I had only associated it with negative things, like backwardness, racism and stupidity. My abusive father was all of those things to me and I wanted to be the opposite of him, so I hid myself away from the world out of fear that I would be judged for sins I haven't committed. The accusations all came later in my life, but never from you. You, at least, knew what I wasn't. You never judged me for being Appalachian. I never knew there was a cultural distinction there. I just lived it. You had some common sense and were very observant. I wonder if you’ve retained that as many people seem to have lost those attributes in the digital era.
I remember driving by the mailbox at the end of our shared driveway one day and I noticed you wearing long sleeves while weed-eating on a super hot day. I commented on the long sleeves and you responded explaining that you were very dark skinned and needed extra protection against the sun. That was the only time any skin difference between us was mentioned. I was quite accepting, so I didn’t think to pester you with questions about your background and I still wouldn’t. I just said “oh, okay”, then hit the gas and drove off to the store. I thought your skin made you beautiful, no more or less than any other. You just existed as you were and that was enough for me.
Later on, when you brought me into your living room, I noticed the photos on your wall, of people at powwows dressed in regalia. I still didn’t think anything of it. A quick glance and a quick thought of “oh, cool” and off we went to the bedroom. However, it’s not as if we never talked about anything personal or avoided going out together.
We went out to eat at the local diner. You took me to one of the Fast and Furious movies and it bored me to death, but you thought it was hilarious and cackled all the way through. It was awkward. I brought you lunch while you were working one day and you got snarky with me when I forgot to bring silverware. We drove around in your ATV while my family's Great Dane chased us through the woods and it was fun for a time. We talked about the future. You said you wanted to take care of me. You mentioned that your mother still believed in spirits. I wondered how often you missed your family back home in Mexico. You casually brought up that you had a drinking problem. I never saw it though. You looked out for my brother whenever he helped you around the farm and tolerated him whenever he didn’t listen. You stood up for me whenever my brother would make fun of me. We went walking through the woods in silence.
We broke up for all of two or three days, then got back together. How naive were we both? At the time, I thought 30 was mature and now I see how clueless we both were. We were young and possibly in love, at least on my part. Now I see how 30 is hardly mature at all. Mentally, I’m still just as clueless at times. I am not what I once was. Perhaps you don’t remember me at all? Maybe, I don't cross your mind?
I know you panicked when I told you I was worried that I could have been pregnant. You thought I was playing games. I wasn’t. It was simply a scare and I quickly moved on from that. I couldn’t understand why you would have thought that. Then, you told me how you had lost your first child in the womb as a result of your ex-girlfriend receiving a scorpion bite in the desert. I don’t think you would lie about that. You told me about your desire to become a father.
I remember when you told me the truth. That you wanted me to leave you behind. That you were not single. That I was the other woman. I recall hearing the frustration in your voice as you called out my name, as I ran away crying. It wasn’t long after that that my grandfather's health deteriorated and my family and I headed off to the hospital late one night. We noticed you had bulldozed our gravel driveway out of frustration. If you didn’t want a relationship at all and you specifically asked me to leave, why were you doing this? You claimed it was your land and that you could do as you pleased. Really? How the Hell were the backwoods of Virginia ever yours, dude? Oh, okay, so that’s the narrative you would rely on whenever you were held accountable for your bad behavior.
We talked once after that and said our official goodbye. You told me that you really did care for me and that you wanted me to look out for myself and be careful because the world can be a dangerous place. You were absolutely right. Just how dangerous was it for you?
I stumbled upon you on a dating profile recently. Your biography section simply stated, “I’m a bad boy”. And something along the lines of “ Just ask, if you wanna know”. I see you are still trying to be a mysterious asshole. I deleted the dating app after that because I couldn't stand the thought of breaking down if you were to reach out to me again, but thankfully you didn’t.
Looking back on it all now, you received me at my best, back when I was less paranoid and less exposed to the prejudices of humanity. I wasn’t entirely damaged by the world and its cruelty yet. Oh, the nonsense I’ve been through since you and I last talked. You were a jerk, but I cared for you, nonetheless. I’ve had a few relationships since then and have achieved more success in my life. I thought I had entirely moved on, but apparently I haven’t. I should have listened to you when you told me that you were a bad guy. Maybe, you were more than that? A damaged man, haunted by his own mistakes and losses.
I don’t think you were all so bad. I regret not standing up for myself and giving you a bit of an attitude on occasion. You definitely would have deserved it. You probably would have respected that. Regardless, you were gentle with me and respectful at times and I do appreciate that. I forgive you for not telling me the truth. It’s been a long time. You should have told me the truth, but I know you cared for me somewhat. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have let that rage get the best of you once I had finally walked away.
It’s been 8 years and you were the first man I had ever fallen in love with.
I hope you are well.
I need more writing like this in my life. Please and thank you
Thanks for sharing your experience, I’m sorry it was so heartbreaking.
I meant to ask, where in VA are you located?