To remind you, Venezuelan Little Mama #1 and #2 are two completely different people. It's only that they have so much in common, like both of them having five letter first and last names, that I never bothered giving them a unique title. And the fact that I met them both a week apart on a Friday at 1 AM. Let's continue a week into the future from the last date. On a post-midnight date.
This story starts kind of beautifully and also similarly as long as the last one. It starts off with a connecting thread to the darkness. I stumbled upon a girl from my high school days on Instagram, she was a freshman when I was a senior at the time so it's not like we ever really interacted. I noticed on her Instagram that most of her photos were in monochrome, black and white. So, I questioned her darkness, asking if she was lacking color in her life. So, she naturally opened up to me and we then started texting and eventually phone calls. It seemed to all be working out, and she informs me she will be visiting Miami shortly, see, she was based in Atlanta at the time, and she was coming down to record music and visit folks. She was very artistically inclined.
So, she had arrived in town, and I set a date for Chica, a high scale restaurant close by. The place closes at midnight and when I contacted the Venezuelan Mama that night there was no response. I had undressed myself and I went back to bed, and not even ten minutes later she called and said she was running late, and she was still down to meet. I was thinking to myself:
It's 1 AM! What can we do now?! Alright, so change of plans?!
I propose to her that we can meet in the Design District. She should be familiar with it since we both went to high school there before it transformed into a luxury plaza of shopping, dining, lounges and bars. We met in front of Swan, and it was my favorite place to go at the time, my default when there was nothing in mind. She came dressed in black and she looked nice, medium length hair, nice bust, she had a dark look down. She was fairly sweet and soft spoken. Since she was moving around places, she had brought this large oversized black bookbag and I had told her there's no way we can go dancing with her carrying that around. So yet again, I had no real plan for this late-night date. I mean it was her fault she missed the initial time by a few hours. She had brought up that she was hungry and hadn't eaten for a long time. So, I proposed we go to Midtown, in walking distance and try to find a bar that serves food. Bar Louie came to mind. As we're walking there, she insists that this is not a date and that she hopes I didn't bring my gun or knife with me. My response to her date charge was "sure" I already know the song and dance of that line, if the vibe is right, she'd cozy up to it and if it wasn't she'd go with the platonic route. When we arrived at Bar Louie, the place was as bright as a McDonald’s, no romantic lighting whatsoever and there was only one guy working the bar and running food. There were about twelve people inside and we had been sitting there five minutes and no one came to even take our order. I didn't like the vibe and I knew I couldn't create a romantic spark being there, so I suggested to Venezuelan Little Mama to leave and find another place. As we left, walking in the dark of the winter towards the plaza I whipped out my phone and prompted Google voice:
"Hey Google, show me restaurants nearby."
Google comes in clutch and recommends a place called Lagniappe.
We walked down the plaza and she asked me questions about who my favorite Super Smash Bros. character is, and I responded: Samus. She says she knew it and we talk about video games like Overwatch and all my favorites. She was a pretty nerdy girl from what I remember in high school which is why I didn't really have to try too hard. I'd come to find out she had a freaky side. We walk towards 2nd Avenue, which is not more than a few minutes and we head inside. Everyone is seated, the place is a mess in a cool way. There were no two tables or chairs that were the same. We waited to be seated but no one came, we just sat and cleared our own table. We've come to find out the place is completely self-serve, and you’d have to go up to the counter and order your own food. It was the first I'd ever seen a place like it, it was littered with stray cats, rustic chairs, wet and dirty tables but it had romantic lighting and that was all I needed. So, I ordered three glasses of wine and a plate of fish and rice for her. She says that she doesn't really like wine and when the food arrives it's so basic that I can hardly call it restaurant style food, it almost seemed like a TV dinner that was heated up. But she ate away at it quickly; she even offered me some fish. As the night went on, we spoke and laughed and sipped away at the wine, until we were down to the last glass of red wine that we shared between us. I had gone up to the bathroom at one point and there was an attractive girl making a pass at me in the line, but I was already satisfied for the night and made no mind to it. When I got back, I proposed that we take some photos for memories, and we scoot over to my side and we just can't get the right angle. So, it becomes a game of shuffling around and taking photo after photo, in a cute and funny way. We finally got a few good shots in with the wine included. So, it's around 3AM and we get up and head out, she stops to greet every cat on the way. I forgot to mention she loves animals more than humans. She works in the veterinary field and owns a few pets herself. It's understandable. I believe she told me those animals saved her from her suicide attempts. dark shit, but it's the bond through suffering that brought us to be together.
So as we're walking back, I'm walking on the outside of the sidewalk close to car traffic and she's on the inside. She grabs my arm and holds it tight saying:
"That it would be a shame If you were to get hit by a car!"
"Right."
I'm sure this meeting became a date a long time ago, from the moment we met I had no doubts. We walked back to the front of our high school and she called an Uber to where she was staying. The Uber came surprisingly fast in less than five minutes. So I drew my face closer to hers and she closed her eyes awaiting to be kissed. Though it was all in a few seconds, I saw it go down in slow motion. So, I kissed her, symbolically in front of our high school. She went home and the next day we discussed how good of a time we had and we plan to meet again two days later on a dark, cold, lively Miami night.
The Second Date
Those two days came fairly fast. The Venezuelan Mama came straight to my apartment, and we were in my room. She was looking around the place and things were a bit stiff at first. She had to get in the mood, and I won't lie to myself there was much going on in my room to even set it. So, I propose we go to Wynwood and hit the clubs, get some drinks and go dancing, you know a real date, and build off that momentum. It was a bit chilly outside, so I grabbed my leather jacket and we headed to Centro Wynwood. There we dance under the lights, get really close, kiss, makeout and the vibes are good. She buys me a drink and I get the next round after. We hold hands as we navigate through the crowd, and we hit the next spot. Because when you go to Wynwood you can never just go to one club, it's a club hopping experience. So, we make our way to Wynwood Marketplace, a very open area with good reggaeton and we spice things up. I tried to dance some salsa with her but I just toe stomped her the entire time. Romantic pain, my favorite thing to inflict. We laugh through it and I see she's in the mood. I told her I have no condoms and she suggested that we go and get some. She goes to the bathroom and I call an Uber back to my place. Little did I know she was spending her last night with me and her flight to Atlanta was in like 6 hours. When she came out of the bathroom, the Uber had already arrived, so we headed to my place. I get the condoms; my brother is home and she says she's really loud and that her hotel room would be better. She insists that she can't have shitty sex. My room was pretty basic at the time, my bed didn't even have a headboard. There was no time to argue about it, so I agreed. Surprisingly, her hotel is literally right inside the Miami International Airport! We called the Uber there, she laid up her legs on me and we talked. I don't even remember much of the ride or the conversation. We walk through the blinding white airport lights, and she brings me to her room. I don’t think there was any foreplay, from what I remember I was on the guest couch fumbling in the dark with a Trojan. I had brought with me two condoms of two different brands, ONE and Trojan and some Naked Blueberry juice to keep my stamina going and my mouth fresh.
So, here's the R-rated part. So we go at it, the sex is pretty surprising. For a presumed nerdy girl, she moves like a porn star. How much dick has she rode or how many times? She moves like a professional dancer, to which I'd find out later, she is a woman of many talents. The first round was nice, I took the condom off after she suggested oral, that was also nice, some doublehanded washing machine spin cycle technique. But I tried to put the second condom on, the brand called One, and it didn't fit at all, I was trying to slide that on for about 8 minutes. It was too small, but we didn't want the fun to end, so after some deliberation, we went raw and unprotected. She insisted that all lights would be off, I barely saw her except from the little cellphone light. She was screaming and yelling like crazy, and I couldn't even enjoy myself fully knowing we were in the Miami International Airport! And I'm just looking at the door waiting for the TSA to bust in the room and take us into custody.
It's like 4 AM in the morning and she’s yelling and climaxing. It was explosive. She finished, I didn't, probably for the reason previously mentioned. She drinks some of my juice and we lay up and talk. She mentions my parents and how they would be proud of me, a sweet moment. We turn the lights on, and she insists I don't look at her naked. I mean, I felt and saw it all. But I suppose it was that first time shyness. I point to her and say, "Venezuelan Little Mama" and she says she doesn't want to be called that. She questions why I always say the term, and we laugh about it. She packs all her stuff in like ten minutes, and we leave the room. She doesn't even take a bath. She went straight from sex to her flight. We kiss and depart at the elevator, and she heads back home to Atlanta. Though that is the last physical time I'd see her. This story does not even remotely end there.
2020 Coronavirus Outbreak, The Return to Miami
She convinced me to get tested after the risky sex, I complied. It was my first time ever at an STD clinic, but it all clears, negative. All throughout the end of 2019 and early 2020 we texted. It went from romantic to more platonic as more time went on. I told her one day, that without the darkness in me and in her, we probably would have never connected. She says she wouldn't change things any other way, and that was a beautiful moment. When the pandemic came and hit hard, she found herself displaced and out of work and returned to Miami. In her struggles I even considered giving her my stimulus check. After the first few weeks of initial lockdowns were over. I attempted to see her all that year, but she'd make so many excuses, saying that seeing me was a health risk. And it was reasonable at the time, but March passed, then April, May, June, July and it was the same excuse. She messaged only a few times during the George Floyd protests to ask when about meeting locations or rant about weed or something. I come to find out she's dating some guy from our old high school. So it was just an excuse. She claimed to be a girl who doesn't do hookups and only seeks meaningful interactions. So, then what was I? A contradiction. But she abandoned me and totally forgot me upon her return. That relationship with the other guy didn't last long and I reached out again towards the end of the year, November, and December. I called her saying it's been a year since I seen her and everytime I invited her out for pizza or lunch, or walk in the park, she'd either cancel or not respond. She said she didn't want to make it awkward for me, so she just kept her distance. She flat out said she didn't want to see me, and I made her feel uncomfortable.
"What!?"
That was so random. I've never done a thing to her or did her any harm. Towards the beginning of 2021, it's been more than a year since I saw her and now she's dating a completely new guy. I somehow remember her birthday and reach out and she's as cold as ever. Super late responses or nothing at all. She apologizes for what she said about the discomfort thing a long time ago. The conversation continues later in the week and I ask her why she's acting so dodgy. She reveals her plan to move up north, I think Boston. I think her new guy is there and she's pursuing music over veterinary stuff. I don't know the full details. But when I realized just how much time passed, I finally blocked her for good and moved on mentally. I was chasing a loose end that only just turned out to be a ghost. Though I dated many others after her she was always on my mind. And when the chance came to be with her I came knocking first and for some reason the girl who claimed to be a hopeless romantic ended up being no different from any other Miami girl. She killed the romance by not picking it up again and running on it. Time nor distance weren't the culprit here, it was accountability; It was only about three months from that first date to her return to Miami permanently. Refer to my Personal Memo #1,If only there was something worthy to return to; to wait for. To this day, it's like we're complete strangers in the darkness. With women, their feelings stretch as far as what's in front of them. I was the true hopeless romantic in this story.
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