by Ashley M Allen

Created on: February 01, 2009   Last Updated: February 15, 2009

The second night we were in Mexico I met a man who managed to completely change my perspective on the opposite sex. He looked good, but he had the personality of someone you could have a cup of coffee with, cry on their shoulder, and teach you about the history of Sri Lanka all wrapped in one and actually make all of that appealing and interesting at the same time.

We met standing in line at an Americanized club right on the ocean; it looked like a castle. We stayed up all night, and went our separate ways the next morning. Our last night in Mexico, I talked my friends into skipping our bus to the airport in order to spend a few more hours out in the heat, all of us together laughing and drinking, and he showed up again. A different bar, again by the beach. I remember looking back at him as we drove away in the cab, with only seconds to spare as we rushed to make it to the airport. Although we were both on vacation a thousand miles away from home, our homes were 5 hours apart. I looked out that back window so happy, so sad, but hopeful that those 5 hours would be the reason why this wasn't a solitary moment in time; this could be a future, not just a memory.

The whole experience was very movie like and completely unrealistic. The next week I spent in a strange state of euphoria and depression. Strangely excited because the person I met was so close, but so far away. He called a few days later, and it sealed the deal that this wasn't a freak happening. Over the next month we talked constantly, and I went to a formal event with him, and we took a trip to Florida together afterwards. He left to travel the world later that year, and he called me a few times during the trip, and came to visit me when he returned back to the states.

He is married now, and I am, also. We don't talk, and we don't write. I can see new pictures of him, and his wife on his myspace page, which is quite voyeuristic but truly the only safe way to quell the curiosity that each of us have about the one that got away, or did they? I can't help but think that looking at his life now, we would have been a terrible match had we lived in the same town, or met at the same job or coffee-shop. It was the hot air, the foreign surroundings, the sunburn. The fact that he could speak fluent Spanish in Mexico and all I knew was "cerveza" and "porquito" and picked up a horrible Italian accent when I was drunk.

Human contact makes our experiences in life meaningful. Although we can make our own judgements and opinions of an event, the people along the way truly shape our views on life. The factors that led to our meeting, our conversations that for me were more profound, more meaningful than any I had ever experienced with a man, are the parts I take with me as I travel the rest of my journey. There are parts of him that I learned I needed in a companion, that I found again in my husband, which I never might have known had it been for Mexico. We will most likely never speak again, but my views on relationships and life are forever changed by my chance encounter with a stranger on an otherwise normal vacation. It isn't the upkeep of the relationship that is important, but what is gained from the meeting that changes lives.

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