Mais feliz

Until yesterday, a Brazilian was a painful bikini wax that leaves you bare as a 2-year-old. (Thanks p0rn!) While I certainly need to tackle my hairiness in a more permanent way now that anyone can see me naked at any time, I’ve got Brasil on my brain and it only sorta has to do with my nether regions.

I met him in an app and I had a good feeling right away. I asked if we could leave texting until I got back from vacation and he agreed, but then messaged me Saturday to see if we could meet. I had a kid-free weekend so I obliged. But on the morning of, I found myself depressed about my life and didn’t feel like going. I barely made an effort getting dressed, which if you know me IRL, is not like me AT ALL. But I walked over anyway, because it was an exercise in getting back on the bike, so to speak.

We met at a cafe nearby, and I almost instantly liked him. He’s older. 10 years older. He’s been through some things. But we had a bit of a soul connection yesterday over espresso and toast. We seem to see the world and life in the same way. We own our trauma and suffering, but refuse to let it define our lives. He’s bald, but fit and has this face you could fall into for hours. I’m calling him Felipe, AKA “The Brazilian.”

Conversation flowed easily. There’s a language barrier, but not an intellect barrier, and an oh-so-sexy accent.  In the middle of our convo, he suddenly exclaimed, “You’re beautiful!” Which was so refreshing after a few weeks of being flattered only in sexually suggestive lingo, like “You’re such a hottie.” (Though I suppose this works for Ali, as he’s just an occasional itch-scratcher.)

At the end of our lovely afternoon, I realized that I really, really wanted to kiss Felipe on the mouth. So as we said goodbye, I did. Or we both did. Hard to say. Just a peck, but with a spark that made me want more.

Tonight we sent lovely, friendly, non-sexy but flirty texts. I’m definitely on his mind as much as he is on mine.  I have no idea where this will go but I have no expectations about it. He lives nearby and likes to bike and for now that’s good enough. He’s a single dad and gets all that comes with raising kids. And he’s not a chauvinist in the least. At least not so far.

We shall see, but I found myself playing Bebel Gilberto tonight…

Author: MariaCallas

Maria Callas is a pseudonym

3 thoughts on “Mais feliz”

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