I found one. It’s a beautiful little apartment a few blocks from the river
in downtown El Puerto de Santa Maria. I should be moving there in the next few weeks. As I’m cruising down Bajamar, I see a dingy BMW sign hanging above this bar. I turn the corner and right there, in my new neighborhood, is a BMW Motorad dealership and mechanic. Walking distance. Now, if I could only get my bike out of the lot. Anyways… walking around downtown, I can completely tell that I’m going to have a good time. I’m not a party animal by any sense of the word, but I like to be around people and know that if I want to do something, there’s a lot going on. Well, there’s a lot going on. The Spanish have a tendency to get a late start on the morning (which I admire, but can’t seem to imitate too often), but there always seems to be people out and about. Siesta is kind of weird. They take a huge chunk of the afternoon off, so if you don’t have a full fridge, forget about eating whenever you want.

It’s hard to sum up how the last few weeks have gone. I pride myself in quickly and easily adapting to new environments and situations, but this time I feel like it’s difficult to make a clean break. I left someone behind who I didn’t want to leave, and it’s been difficult re-assuring myself that I made the right decision. You know what the crazy lady down the street says: “Every living creature on earth dies alone.” I feel that this is true, and I’ve held this as a core belief of mine for a dozen years or more. It doesn’t matter the family that you spawn, the company you surround yourself with, the “legacy” you leave behind. When it’s over, it’s over. Lights out. Nothing. So what do we do in the mean time? I don’t know any more than the next person. I hear old men on their death beds. Love. Family. I’m not sure I know what those words mean. Instinctually I group “love” and “family” with words like “religion” and “code” and “standard.” These concepts are all relative. I don’t like the words because I feel that simply by speaking them we’re buying into someone else’s idea of what they are. I want my own standards and code and religion. I want to live for myself and find out what is right for me. It’s hard. Growing up I could count on one hand the number of single adult males that I knew. We’re shown the direction we’re supposed to go in. And as children we pick up on the body language that most happily married couples show around their single peers. Is it uneasiness? Is it envy? Is it disapproval? I don’t know. Or maybe it’s just my using my imagination. “When are you going to find a nice husband and settle down?” “Do you think you want to have children?” Maybe it’s condesention?

Growing up Catholic, I learned an interesting phenomenon: active recruiting is an ongoing process in that faith. I pray harder than you. Have you found Jesus yet? Do you need help finding the way? Aspire to my level of faith. The competition is staggering, and the anxiety and inadequacy that is cultivated is enough to push people out of the church. I am probably generalizing, but that’s how I feel. But I’m trying to draw a parallel here. It’s the same with married couples. The second that my friend returns from his honeymoon, he’s recruiting me. Come on man, you need to find you a nice wife. More than anything else, my friend, I want to find my own way. Am I fighting an instinctual need to procreate? Could be, but when I do something big like that… I need to be sure that it’s from my heart and not from the collective heart of a group of people that I like and admire.

So I finally went to a casino. I’m 27, and I’ve never been in a casino to gamble. Let me tell you… I had a good time. I sat on this blackjack table until 4 this morning. It was the most fun that I’ve had in a long time. Probably because I won a bit of money. You look at it like, “I could have spent $100 bucks out on the town, or I can sit in this casino and have them pay me. Oh and they bring me free drinks.” I’m not going to turn this into a habit, but seriously… good time. Can’t wait to go back.