I have a new Porteño (Buenos Aires native) friend who I will call "Ana." We were connected by an acquaintance in Columbus whose family hosted her as an exchange student more than 20 years ago. They have stayed in contact, and Ana was eager to be helpful. We relied on her to straighten out our mobile phone situation and she drove Husband up to campus to check it out before classes started. She is a beautiful woman with a lovely, generous soul.
As we got to know each other, I learned that Ana was divorced but in love with "Tomas," a man she had been dating for ten months.
Last night I treated her to dinner to thank her for helping us when we arrived. While driving to the restaurant, Ana shared that Tomas had ended the relationship and that she was very sad. He gave her no explanation and called her selfish when she tried to get answers from him. I listened, said he must be a total jerk, and that he probably had issues that had nothing to do with her. I said that she was clearly too good for him and that the next relationship would be better. I also said that he was her "rebound" relationship, but I couldn't translate that in a way that she could understand. I said all the things that a friend would say (even to someone you barely know). Ana's pain was palpable.
Even though we arrived at a very hip restaurant after 9 pm, it was still too early to be seated for dinner. We sat at the bar drinking Pisco Sours as '70s soul music filled the mostly empty room. Among many topics, we discussed the local housing market, traffic laws (because we were nearly hit by a city bus and a garbage truck on the way to the restaurant), and her time in Columbus in 1987. But she kept coming back to Tomas and how she had foolishly thought she would spend the rest of her life with him. She had bought a copy of The Rules that day and had already read half of it. Ana repeated something she had said earlier, trying to sound strong each time: "I don't want him and I don't need him."
Then, of all the gin joints, in all of Buenos Aires, who should walk in but Tomas. My back was to the door, but I heard Ana say, "Tomas?" in total disbelief as a man leaned over to kiss her on the cheek. They then started speaking very quickly in Spanish. Only then did I notice a woman standing at his side. She greeted me with a kiss, then Ana (everyone kisses everyone here at each greeting). Even my low-level Spanish comprehension sensed the awkwardness in their words and body language. Tomas and his date left as abruptly as they had entered.
Ana's jaw was practically on the floor as she fought tears. She kept it together as we both expressed our shock. How was it possible? There are thousands and thousands of restaurants in Buenos Aires. Neither she nor Tomas live or work anywhere near where we were, nor did they ever make that neighborhood a destination. She said she was happy I was a witness because no one would believe what had just happened. I told her that I do not believe in coincidence -- that I think that things happen for a reason -- but that didn't translate well either.
So at least one question was answered as to why he left.
Ana apologized for all the drama, saying she wasn't an unhappy or depressed person, generally. I tried to make her feel better but saying that I knew what she was going through. Her pain reminded me of my own heatrbreak in my late 20s, but also made me especially grateful to be happily married and not in the sometimes brutal dating scene.
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