Unlike him

So, I was listening to Argentinian music because a friend is traveling soon, and on the recommended column, I saw a song that I (used to) love from the Chilean reggae band Gondwana. It’s called Felicidad (Happiness), and yeah, the name is pretty self-explanatory.

It reminded me of my ex (the good one). One time, we’d made love, and were just chatting, and then we had to go somewhere, and when I was dressing up I said oh oh, you remind me of this great song I used to listen to growing up:

And it’s that you love you shared with me, I’m not sad (anymore) x2

Now, before therapy, stimulants for ADHD would make me crash so hard, and feel quite emotional -and I always took them when I had to bike and face the big great world outside. So I translated a part of the song and teared up, telling him yeah, I’m so happy I’m with you, definitely not sad anymore πŸ˜₯

He looked so over the song, so over my display of emotion, so over that whole moment. To be clear: it’s not that he didn’t like the song, it’s that he didn’t give it a chance. It’s the fact that he could barely mask his disdain for my emotional moment (instead of talking about it). It’s the fact that he never ever wanted anything to with my culture, my language, anything that’s not his eXtReMeLy CuRaTeD YouTube playlist (he’d whine when I searched for something on his phone as it would mess up his recommendations :S).

I don’t even give two shits about rock, but there’s this great Peruvian band that got a lot of international praise, the Belkings, and he shat on them before hearing any of their music. I don’t remember if he literally used the word my other ex used when I was listening to Bolivian music (trash), but it was pretty close to that. The other ex did get an earful, because no one fucks with my Bolivian folk music.

At the time I was surprised, but later, yeah, hurt. Everything either happened inside of him or not at all. And his musical snobbery was not indicative of other forms of snobbery, but it was yet another indicator of his utter inflexibility. What he knows, he knows, and nothing can change that. I do honestly hate how some people refuse to investigate their own psyches when they’re having an impact on others (PARENTS, HOW ARE YOU TODAY?). Now, obviously, the choice is to walk away.

In a way, it was a transactional relationship. He would be my incredibly solid rock with my own issues that I was dealing with in trauma therapy, and in exchange, I never had any questions or criticisms about how the relationship was going, because he was extremely triggered by it.

I just didn’t know it at the time.

I couldn’t have, because when you don’t know yourself better and what makes you you, you can’t really see people, and I hadn’t consciously, thoroughly noticed this aspect of him. I did of course sensed that he thrived on us not discussing us, and I did too (at the beginning) as I was so engrossed in my own healing.

It takes nothing to say oh yeah, the song is OK, I guess I’m all about English reggae or whatever (he has an album by a Dutch reggae band, and I never laughed in his face about it, lol). It doesn’t take nothing, however, to chew down your distaste for a partner having an emotional moment and reaching out with compassion. It takes feeling stable yourself, and finding in your heart the love (if not human camaraderie, kindness) to reach out and say: honey, what’s wrong? it’s ok, you’re fine, and I’m happy to be with you too! And if not, to say: honey, I’m not feeling too hot right now, I need a minute, I’ll be back. I love you, see you in a bit.

He was more of a “swallow the compliment and give nothing back” towards the end of the relationship. I remember seeing his changing expressions and not thinking about it, putting them out of mind. Never forgetting them, but also not discussing them. In all fairness, it was two moments (this and when we were discussing my birthday, and he couldn’t look more put upon by the occasion). But yeah, when your partner is so over you, there’s veeery little chance you’re coming back from that.

I don’t think my panicking about relationships has increased that much from this breakup, though. And my C-PTSD still gets handled and self-examined on the regular, so I do hope I find someone for me eventually.

A man that wants to learn my language, listen to the music I grew up with, and connect the dots, as one says. The caveat being, of course, his own dots have to be connected for him to even have the mental bandwidth to really think and properly conceptualize (and love) his partner.

And before I even get to that point with someone, me, ever the expressive, cheerful one, can already scan someone not ready to reciprocate when I give him a compliment. Does he swallow like a glutton and gives nothing back, or does he offer a flower too? By their deeds you truly will get to know them, ladies.

Some Bolivian folklore because you are missing out if you never hear it:

And I love you so, just you, like the sun (does) the sunrise. Like water (that) quenches my thirst…I love you!

And Argentinian pop, because I grew up with it too πŸ™‚

Oh / One morning I’ll see you arrive / And discover that I / Alone I’m no (longer) better

And here’s one hour of Ecuadorian pasillo (creole waltz), by the greatest of them all, Julio Jaramillo πŸ’˜. My grandparents liked him but I loved him, and if we heard it on inter-regional buses traveling inside the country, I would sing/hum his songs, and my mom would look at me like I’m a freak, hahahaha (I mean the is this my kid? type of look, lol). Hey, my grandparents are one quarter of why I have a chef’s kiss musical taste. My momma is another quarter. Peruvian folklore is pretty dope and so fucking varied, so let’s give that another quarter. And the remaining quarter is me, and my love for all things new and unexplored:

What have you given me, my life / that I walk around sad day and night / circling always your corner / looking always (at) your place / and this passion that hurts / and this pain that remains / ’till when will I suffer the torment of your love ♬

Jaramillo is one of the (deceased) men I would sell my body to at a discount price, the discount being free, because I would never make these fine gentlemen pay for a whore like me (roflmao):

Stanzi is a feminist icon and, even if you (also) don’t watch anime, you’ll enjoy her descriptions of just how much she wants to get railed by these cartoon illustrations xD

Brazilian music would deserve its own post, of course, as would Chilean folklore (all of these countries, really), but I will cop out to utter ignorance of English-speaking LatAm countries’ music, as well as Paraguayan and Uruguayan music.

I do however have a Paraguayan husband, and why should only I feast on his EXTREME hotness?

When I was 14 I was basic and very much into soccer, and I watched the 2002 World Cup (South Korea?), and TWENTY YEARS LATER, I still remember Roque Santa Cruz πŸ’˜. You’ll find info online that says he’s married and has got a bunch of kids, but that’s how we throw people off.

In musical love,

L.