I went to Mexico City because of a boy. [Part 1]

It’s not what you think. Well, maybe it is.

About two months ago, I was in Chicago for work. I, of course, was happy to be there. Since I moved, nearly two and a half years ago, that has become one of my happy places. It’s true, you don’t know what you have until it’s gone. Actually, maybe I needed it to be taken away from me to appreciate it more.

As happy as I should’ve been to be back in the Windy City, I could’ve literally been anywhere else as long as I wasn’t in New York. I was dealing with something, a boy, that I had been trying to shake. I won’t say how long, but it was TOO long. This wasn’t the first time that I tried to seek refuge from a boy. Well, this one. In my mind, if I went away, maybe that problem would. Of course, it was always temporary. Once, I even lasted nearly a year. Even Brandy said it though, almost doesn’t count.

I thought everything was okay once I boarded the plane and landed, saw familiar faces, went to my favorite spots, but it wasn’t. I had something sort of a breakdown. No crying or anything, but my body literally felt like it just dropped. Problem was, I was already sitting down. I immediately set up an appointment for therapy for the day after I got back to New York.

It was a Sunday, I was walking from the train in the pouring rain and figured I’d give another try to this passive aggressive boy who was ignoring me. I was surprised by the answer and my heart dropped. One, because he answered and two, because I didn’t prepare anything for if he did. I had about 5 minutes to say all I needed to say (or hear, if he had any rebuttals) before I walked into my therapist’s office.

There was back and forth and I got so frustrated. I just started crying out of nowhere. I couldn’t believe it. I mean, yeah, we’ve cried over boys we probably shouldn’t have. True. So have I, but they’ve never witnessed it to tell the tale. Oh, Stefanie…

At that moment, I didn’t know if I was angry with him, myself, or both. We hung up and as I walked into the office of my therapist, she knew something was terribly wrong. I’m usually pretty high spirited when I go, no matter what I have to discuss because I find it valuable and know when I leave, I’ll feel better than when I walked in. I had never cried in therapy before, not in the two years I had been going. This time though, I did, and it felt great.

I went home, still fuming, but better. I had been eyeing a flight to Mexico City for a week or two. There was no real reason why I hadn’t booked it. I think I was afraid, not sure why though. When I got home, I booked the flight and my accommodations. Going to Mexico City couldn’t be as scary as what I was already putting myself through. I heard from him the next day, and after a few minutes he says he would call me back. I told him if he didn’t, to not ever contact me again. It’s been two months.

I never looked for that call back though.

To Be Continued…

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