Tag Archives: Puerto Rico

The haunted elevator

13 Dec

So once again I’m out of work.  Let’s not go into the details because they are ridiculous.  The only reason I mention it is because, now that I’m at home during the day, I’ve been kinda restless, stuff happens in my head, and I need to write  it as a form of exorcism:

Dear Pilot Guy,

Today I was doing some housecleaning.  The thought of you crossed my mind two or three times.  It wasn’t until I got to my balcony that I was really hit by a memory of you.  I found a cigarette butt.  Your cigarette butt.  I was transported to those oh-so-happy days when I had you here.  I saw you sitting out there, cigarette in hand, watching the news.  You looked up from your iPad when I came to the door.  You smiled, that crooked smile that I’m sure no one craves more than me.

I guess that memory, along with the others, will start to fade soon.  I don’t want them to, though.  I want to keep the memory of you looking at me when I woke up next to you on my bed.  Your arm reaching out to me and pulling me closer so we could spoon for a little while.  If I have to be honest, I want most of all to keep the memory of your body pressed against mine, of us having sex, of you moaning in pleasure, of our bodies spent after so much desire.

Then I think of you.  I wonder if you review your memories of me.  I’m sure you do.  There’s a particular one that I really hope torments you daily.  There’s a certain elevator where we shared our first crazy, passionate kiss.  It’s there, at the airport where you land every day.  The one you take off from every day too.  I imagine you, in your pilot’s uniform, the mandatory sunglasses, coming out of your gate.  I imagine that you walk around the airport thinking of whatever thing it is you think.

Absentmindedly, you walk up to the elevator, push the button and wait.  The doors open.  You look in.  Start to walk towards it, but a flash stops you dead in your tracks.  You see us inside.  Me against the wall.  You pushing me in.  Kissing with desperation.  You see me pushing you  away to the opposite wall.  Here your imagination takes over.  I walk towards you on the other side of the elevator.  I kiss you again.  You try to put your hands around me to pull me in, but I take hold of your hands and push them away.  I start playing with your belt, and you get alarmed.  After all, this is just a two story building.  Someone is bound to come in the elevator any moment now.

I don’t care.  That actually makes it more exciting.  You smile, loving how I can be such a naughty girl wrapped in these very respectable looking skin tight white jeans and flirty navy blue shirt.  My hand starts making its way down your pants and you just let go.  I own you now.

People push past you.  They wake you up from your reverie, looking at you as if they thought you were scared of going in the elevator.  You shake the image from your head.  Once again, you decide not to go in.  Maybe some day the memory will fade, the fantasies will subside, and you will ride the elevator again.

You turn around and decide to get a coffee and wait your time out until your next flight.  You walk into the coffee shop.  Can’t help but look at the table where we sat and shared a chocolate chip cookie.  You see me licking the melted chocolate off your fingers.  You reach in for my mouth and lick the chocolate from my lips.  We kiss as passionately as our first kiss back in the elevator.

An airport for everybody, a “funhouse” for you.


The non-date date, or end of year reflection

31 Dec

So, the other day I met a guy. He had posted a message on a site I visit often, asking if anyone was up for a drink on Friday night, and I answered. It wasn’t a date, it was just two strangers meeting for a drink at a bar.

Right away I liked him very much. He was cute, polite, nice, funny, dorky, and cool at the same time, but this was not a date.

We talked, and laughed, and drank mojitos and beer, and a moscato and vodka cocktail that he taught the bartender. I was having such a good time, I could not believe it, but this was not a date.

I don’t remember what time it was when he decided to pay the bill while I was in the restroom, but after he paid, he invited me to take a walk up to the beach that was right around the corner. This was still not a date.

We sat on the sand, and it started raining. I took out my umbrella and we huddled under it. I leaned my head on his shoulder while we talked, and talked, and laughed, but still this was not a date.

After a while, we walked up to a playground nearby and sat on a bench. We talked some more until I felt that my bladder was about to burst and so I had to go home. We had met at 6 pm, and it was now 1 am.

So what happened next? The usual, he didn’t call or text the next day. I texted him on Sunday, inviting him to see a very impressive cave called Cueva Ventana. He said he had to work but didn’t offer another alternative.

This is the last day of the year. I’m sitting in a dark movie theater, about to watch Anna Karenina, and trying really hard not to reflect on this past year. I feel like it’s been so full of rejection, of inexplicable behavior from men, and in summary, a lot of heartache.

I guess he forgot to say he’s married

18 Dec

I just met a guy.  He is thoughtful, tender, a good dancer, a great conversationalist, and it felt like he was as attracted to me as I was to him.

My teachers, hard at work during our workshop.

My teachers, hard at work during our workshop.

I was hanging out with this group of teachers I had just given a workshop to.  As I was packing all my equipment, I received a little paper from one of them:  “Don’t leave just yet.  We’re going out for drinks tonight.”  It was a Friday night so I had to weight this decision.  I could either stay at a town that’s an hour and a half away from my house, drinking and having fun with a group of hard core partiers, or I could go home and lay on the living room rug, watching TV and munching on whatever I had in the cupboard.  It was difficult, but I decided to stay and party on.

I have to say that I love this town, this group of teachers, and their school.  The town of Orocovis  is right in the middle of my island.  It is a mountainous small town.  People are super nice, humble, serviceable.  I have to visit two schools there periodically, and every time, I come out with a warm smile on my face.  I love this group of teachers in particular because they know how to have fun, and they have included me as if they’ve known me forever.

How can you not love visiting a school where the views look like this.

How can you not love visiting a school where the views look like this.

So this particular night we were bar hopping, drinking cheap beer and pitorro (this is Puerto Rican moonshine, but I’ll deny having any shots of it to anybody) when I was introduced to this guy in a jacket and ball cap who came in with his brother.  The first thing he told me was that he knew I was on the verge of a big change in my life, that I was afraid of this change, that I had some plans that made me feel anxious, but that I needed to trust myself, take the plunge, and that I would be successful.  Did he read my previous post?!!!

I was taken by him.  He was cute, about the right age (38), and I had his undivided attention.  We drank.  We ate.  We danced.  We talked.  We had soooo much fun!  At the end of the night, I gave him my number with the absolute certainty that he would call within the next 10 to 15 minutes.

And call he did not.  He didn’t call the next day, or the next week.  Four days after, I visited the school again and talked to one of the teachers there.  I told her about the guy and that I really would love to talk to him again.  Well, guess what?  She thinks that he’s married.

Is there anything I can say about this?  I feel stupid asking why, yet again.  I really feel like giving up on finding a decent, honest man.  They are definitely  mythical creatures.  They rarely come out to play with girls like me, I think.

That crappy, living room rug looks soooo inviting right about now.

BTW, this is what I look like when I have my pathetic Friday nights laying on the rug.

BTW, this is what I look like when I have my pathetic Friday nights laying on the rug.

I just felt like I needed to share with you guys

12 Nov


That’s me.  The girl in the blue shirt.  Today I went to a yoga retreat at the Río Piedras Botanical Gardens.  This is the longest time I’ve lasted in a headstand without any help.  My teacher is behind me, just in case.

The retreat was all about change, about letting go of whatever is holding us back and working on being the best we can be.  Something I’m in much need of right now.


This place has always been very special to me, since I was a little girl.  It is so full of beauty!

Achievement is a bitch

4 Oct


Ok, guys, I did it.  I did the headstand.  My feet were in the air for 5  to 10 seconds.  There was a wall behind me just in case I fell, but I did it, and let me tell you, it is awesome!  The feeling of achieving something that a month ago was not even a possibility is incredible.  What I wasn’t considering, though, was that I would want more after this.

Two classes after, I feel like the headstand is really child’s play.  I wanna move on to other poses.  I’m discovering a competitive side of me that would have made me very successful had I played sports when I was younger, but I was much too busy reading the Anne of Green Gables collection.


So on to other poses it is.  Some days ago, I noticed one of the other students warming up before class.  He went into a pose that seemed complicated and yet simple at the same time.  “That’s the next one!” I thought.  I had been looking at youtube videos and tutorials on how to do the crow, but didn’t think I would be able to do it.  But, guys, I was wrong.  I did that one too!


I feel like I’m on a roll.  Remember that group date I was dreading to go to?  I did that too.  It was cool.  The people were great, very down to earth, and kind.  We had a great time watching the documentaries and then went on to have a lively diner with nice conversation and shared foods.  It felt very comfortable and familiar.  Of that too I want more, so this Friday night I will meet with them and go to La Placita de Santurce.  It is like a town’s square surrounded by dive bars and restaurants where people hang out at night, drink cheap beer, eat fried foods, and dance salsa right on the sidewalks.  This is really turning it up a notch for me.  My dancing skills are limited, and we have talked about my alcohol consumption resistance levels before, but if I could balance my body on my two hands, while projecting my butt to the ceiling, what’s really gonna stop me from partying like an animal on Friday?

  I’m warming up to this bitch a little.  She sure knows her stuff.

You like me, you really like me

23 Aug

I just got news that a dear friend of mine nominated me for the  “Tell Me About Yourself” award!  I didn’t know how to feel, how to respond.  I’ve seen these mythical squares on a lot of other blogs, proudly boasting about awards, but never thought of myself as worthy of any public recognition like that.  I wanted to know why.  What have I done to deserve this?  Who gives out this award?  What will I wear for the award ceremony?  Is there a red carpet involved?  Do I have to get a bikini wax? (I hope not, that shit hurts.)

Then I went to Mistress M’s page, as her message instructed, and got the idea of what this award entails.  Like her, I have to write a post outlining seven things about myself that most people wouldn’t know and then nominate seven more blogs for the award.  Her post reminded me of one I have been planning on writing for a while now, so I’m mixing the two and hope that they make sense to you.

This blog was born a little over a month ago.  It was conceived with the idea that I would be documenting my experiences while I look for love and it’s true meaning.  In the little time that I have been writing, it has evolved, taken a life of its own, and now I could not tell you exactly what it is.  This is my space for random ramblings, where sometimes I write to make sense of the silly things that happen to me.  This is the place where I became a writer again, after being everybody else’s everything for so long.

Caramelolimón has also become the doorway through which a lot of wonderful people have entered my life.  They all might be serial killers in their real lives (not you Mistress M, I’m sure you would have told us), but in the blogosphere they are spectacular!  I have found so many people that think and feel like me, people who make my mistakes and teach me to laugh with them.  There are people who write with their hearts on their sleeves and give me permission to go into their lives.  I’ve met strong women, unapologetic women, funny women, and they have shown me support and encouragement.

To all of you, the ones I have interacted with, and the ones I stalk from a distance, I need to say Thank You.  I also have to ask you all to never leave.  You know I have abandonment issues.

Here are the seven things you do not know about me:

  1. I am the only girl of four children.  My brothers and I all have a three year separation in between.  My mother is a pretty redhead with fine straight hair and a beautiful youthful complexion.  My father is dark skinned with coarse black hair and a nose that you’d have to see.  My brothers and I look like everything in between those two.   We are a funny looking family!
  2. Breakfast is my favorite meal of the day.  I can skip any other, but not breakfast.  I almost always have the same: whole wheat toast, a boiled egg, and coffee.  Breakfast time is my me-time.  I get up an hour earlier just to make sure that I will be having breakfast all by my pretty little self.  I receive the Friday, Saturday, and Sunday newspapers at home and spread them out throughout the week to read with my breakfast, so I get my news two or three days later.
  3. I have gone through a sexual re-awakening in the past few months.  It hasn’t even been a year.  In these months I have let myself do more, enjoyed more, experimented more, and learned more about myself than I had in my 10 years of marriage.  True, I had a more steady supply of sexual encounters when I was married, but I feel like none of them were under my own terms.  I was always responding to his desires (Oh! A new post!).  On October of last year, I took a man to my bed.  I told him what to do, when and where.  There’s no coming back from that.
  4. Lately I’ve been feeling kinda out of place.  I feel like I’ve been living life on the settler’s lane.  I want to do something transcendental.  I want to be awed.  I feel like moving away to Italy.  I want to do the Eat Pray Love thing.  But I have a daughter that I can’t transplant anymore than I have done already, and I don’t want to leave her behind to live the life her father has chosen.
  5. I have been thinking of my influence in my community and of how to teach my daughter to love and care for her country.  This one is not easy to explain unless you are a Puertorrican from my generation.  In simple words, we are a colony of the United States.  More than half of our population wants to be a state and a very small percentage knows that we will never be one.  For years, the discourse has been one of assimilation of seeing ourselves as the weaklings, as if without the US we will not strive as a country.  I wasn’t officially taught to be proud of my nationality.  They wanted me to be proud of my American citizenship.  In schools, they don’t talk about our great people and our great strengths.  Our pride comes from within the small people, not from our leaders.  My country is living an identity crisis that has been going on for years.  I’m feeling the need to do something, to at least instill that love and pride in my daughter.  I have almost no time to write this blog, but the idea of another blog has been bugging me for some days now.
  6. I am the greatest sexter there ever was.  French Guy once described me as an intellectual sexter.  Ever since I discovered dirty talk, I have not been the same, ever.  I kinda wanna have a new guy, any guy, just so I can sext with him.  I do have a new  friend with whom I have sexted, and phone sexed, but that doesn’t count cause it’s just for play.
  7. I haven’t always felt beautiful, so I made up this list of features that I run through my head every once in a while to remind me of all the beautiful things that make me up:  beautiful eyes framed by long luxurious lashes, sexy luscious lips, supple gorgeous delicious breasts, and legs that have been known to awaken forbidden passions in unknown observers.  All of that, and other not so loved features make me what I am, which is pretty damn alive!

Whoa!  This post has gone on for way too long.  I also want to be freshly pressed, so I’m going to break the text with a picture of my freaking awesome legs in my favorite spot at the beach:

Oh, island life!

Here are the bloggers who I think are also worthy of loads of awards:

  1. http://confederacyofspinsters.com/ – I don’t know them very well, and they don’t know me.  But they are hilarious and I agree with a lot of what they have to say.
  2. http://onethousandsingledays.com/ – She is a superwoman with a great sense of humor and a very straightforward style.
  3. http://theseattletheory.wordpress.com/ – He writes from the heart, which is for the moment a little wounded.  I have never wanted to see someone I don’t know at all be as happy as I want him to be.
  4. http://egointhesea.wordpress.com/ – This kid is young, honest, and eager to experience life.  I may not always agree with his methods (case in point, his latest post), but he writes so openly that you have to love him for it.

I know it’s supposed to be seven, but in all good conscience these are the ones that I truly know.

Man-order addendum

21 Aug

A little part of me. The luscious, yummy, freaking hot part of me.

Dear Universe, remember the order I put in for a very specific man?  Well, I’ve been thinking about it and it just so happens that I need to add some important items to the list of specifications.

How could I forget to ask for an agnostic man?!!!  Maybe it is because of all the years of catholic indoctrination that my subconscious decided not to remember such an important detail.  Most of my adult life I’ve lived in a kind of limbo in relation to religion and spirituality, which by the way, was part of the reasons given by my ex-husband for our parting of ways.  For years I have refused to define what it is that I believe in, or not, but the important thing is that I have neglected that spiritual side that I’m supposed to be nourishing instead.

After my divorce, I started to wonder about God, and religion, and spirituality.  I even thought that if I said I believed and tried real hard to imagine a supreme being who controls my destiny, I would find solace and a new direction in life.  I went as far as to blame my not believing  in God for the failure of my marriage.  In a letter I wrote to my ex, I (now regretfully) wrote these words:  “had I let God into our family, it wouldn’t have failed.”

Now, looking back, I can see how desperate I was to not loose my marriage.  I was willing to make myself believe in something that my heart can’t accept.  Now that I’m back to normal, I relish the opportunity of finding a kindred spirit who will not make me feel guilty for not believing that a man-made construct is watching over me, while thousands of babies die of hunger and thirst around the world.

I also want a bilingual man (a polyglot would be even better).  I’ve told you guys about my fixation with English speaking men, but let me explain further.  Here in my corner of the Caribbean our native language is Spanish.  Because of a very complex and hard to explain relationship with the United States, we are taught English as a second language in public schools.  But the thing with us Puertorricans is that we are stubborn and don’t want to completely assimilate the American culture, so most people usually do not become bilingual even after 12 years of English classes in public school.  The fact that I am highly proficient in English without ever having lived in the US is astounding to most people.

I believe that I have a special ability for acquiring language, and that has also set me apart from a lot of people.  When your are completely bilingual, your thought process is different.  To acquire a language, you have to also learn the culture from whence it came, so bilingualism has opened up other worldviews to me that not a lot of people have been exposed to.  To say it more succinctly, I am a weirdo and I’m looking for a weirdo man to be weird with.

So there you have it, Universe, you can add those two items to the list and keep in touch with me.  I might have to make further revisions to the order in the near future.  For the moment, keep working on finding me a man, like asap.  It has become kinda hard to get into some of the yoga poses without imagining other hard things in the vicinity of certain parts.

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