Love in the Time of Coronavirus – Part One

When my two daughters and I moved to a mountainous town in Mexico, from Brooklyn, New York, romance was the last thing on my mind.

At least two different friends predicted I would find love in Mexico. And I just laughed.

The idea of one more person who would need something from me sounded ridiculous. I told my friends, “Time will tell! Maybe someday, when the kids are older. I doubt it, but maybe.”

I moved to Mexico without much of a plan for myself, besides knowing I needed a radical change from the constant rush and stress of NYC life. I had already enrolled the children in a Spanish-only Waldorf school but didn’t know what I would do for myself.

Once the children started school, I got a job and started to build a social circle for myself. After a time, I got myself a therapist — a requirement for any good (former) New Yorker.

And my therapist suggested that I start dating. Just casually. Just to explore my options. I agreed that it might be fun to find an occasional dinner companion — nothing more — and I enrolled in the most popular dating app in our small city.

Sergio and I met for coffee on February 4, 2020. I scheduled a quick coffee break between Spanish class and therapy. He seemed nice, but I didn’t think much beyond that. I suggested we meet again soon and hurried on my way.

We met again, and he chose the perfect terrace restaurant for our next date. He had even reserved the specific table he wanted. Then we met again the next evening in the central garden of our town. I was only a little nervous but as soon as I saw his smile, my heartbeat sped up.

This time we spent hours talking over a romantic dinner with a view of the church at the center of town. Shyly, I finally took his hand. And hours later, I initiated our first kiss — on the sidewalk of a busy street — and felt fireworks.

Just a couple of weeks later, I changed my mind about having a potential suitor wait six months to meet my children. Despite my desire to protect them, I didn’t want to commit six months to this relationship, only to have their meeting be a disaster.




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