(Warning: A classic ‘love bombing’ story that may trigger some traumas, and of course the usual NSFW-mature audiences only).

To join this 3-day adventure turn your music to: “Fly With Me” by Iration.

Now that I have finally shared my blog with my child, I would like to tread lightly. Unfortunately, I would be doing my readers a great disservice by censoring content. (She only KNOWS about it. She has NOT read it).

I’ll write this blog sober and i’ll intervene whilst tipsy…I’ll edit it sober, and reread it with a glass of champagne. That’s the process. I also went to town with my palm-sized pink vibrator to make sure I’m not fueled off sexual tension. (Btw- I’ve lived my whole life never having a gadget as such, so this is all new to me but has saved me from certain impulses…Highly suggested!)

Currently sober as can be, I’m attempting to conceptualize the falling stupidly in love and being dumped all but within 3 days.

OK, let’s begin with the breakup rule that Charlotte discussed in Sex and the City; Season 2, episode 1…

“It takes half the total time you went out with someone to get over them.”

Pro: I’m already halfway there.

Con: I’m embarrassed to write about it.

Pro: I didn’t shed one tear over it.

Con: I wasn’t even given enough time to.

Pro: We avoided in what could’ve been a natural disaster.

Con: Could’ve, would’ve.

So what did this retired boxer, set in his ways, flat-earther conspiracist do to have me crawl from my cave to labor out this blog? What set him aside from the handful of romances and 2 handful of dates I’ve had since my ex Scorpio?

Let’s figure it out.

NOW I took a mental health day last week. It was a miserable Tuesday. It was decided to ignore all emails and work to gather my thoughts and foster them into logic. In my moment of solidarity, where life was forced to lose it’s momentum, a painful truth would appear. There was no one to share it with and there was no confidant. Yes, of course, my friends and family would welcome my usual rants but the void was loud and I hated that because I’ve been working on being content with being alone.

I stared at my Hinge dating app with over 600 notifications. I dove in. Ugh, it seemed like a task to find a connection.

My strategy? Accept a handful of invitations and filter them out depending on banter and wit. Once this is achieved, I am able to wholly focus on one and ride the wave…then filter him out as soon as their true colors show in real life. Then take a few months’ breaks and try again when and if energy allows. I was seeking something unextravagant and unlavish. Not to say he was basic, but his profile looked like a 7-year-old put a selfie presentation together for his crush. There were no foreign cars, yachts, golf pics, or trips to Greece. They were all selfies that looked like it was taken by a 2004 Razr phone. To be frank, they weren’t the most attractive pictures but I was attracted to him. Something was telling me he looked better in person…

I sat there,

“Ang, keep it moving…” I told myself.

“No Ang, we’re looking for a connection, not the usual luxurious dinner date.”

I needed something different. I accepted and boom we matched.

We spoke for 10 hours straight-nonstop. It was verbal diarrhea. We spoke about our lucid dreams, our desire to nurture our pineal gland, astral projection, our crystals, conspiracies, the meditations we listen to, and the hertz sound waves we sleep to. We share the same love of ashwagandha and holistic healing. We are dedicated followers of Dr. Joe Dispenza. We are infatuated with quantum physics and reprogramming our minds. We talked about gratitude and being rich in nature and not superficiality, and how that can be difficult for two consumers such as us. It was if we had known each other in another dimension, as if our energies were in sync in a parallel universe. I mean when I say the universe birthed a soulmate, I felt it. It was beautiful.

Our stories intertextually tangoed with one another. But with a plethora of commonalities, came deeply broken and dark spirits as we’ve experienced the lowest lows. We talked about flatlining and our near-death experiences and the death experiences he’s had.

We spoke about childhood traumas, and breakup traumas. We share the same mistreatment of medications and addictions and how we survived those times in our lives. We both got DUIs in 2009, and went through the jail system, court system, AA classes, and MADD class. It was that classic “ME TOO!” after every sentence we finished. We spoke about the divorces our parents went through, and our anger issues growing up and what we needed to do to grow from them.

We friended each other on CoStar to see our compatibility charts. He is a Gemini, and I am Aquarius. We laughed at the sex compatibility like two middle schoolers.

Time lapsing out entire lives; I was caught off guard. I needed to take a few wide steps back.

“I’m sorry, but I don’t think i want to meet you in person,” I blurted out.

He was taken aback, “Why? What’s going on?”

I began to cry, “I don’t want to lose this connection…this feeling is unreal, and I don’t want to risk losing this…I would rather just stay friends.” This took minutes to say as I was gasping for air. (Remember, it was a metal health day, so I was already emotional).

He felt a type of way, “You’re friend zoning me already?”

In my vulnerability, I admitted to him that if we do meet that we couldn’t have sex because sex has the potential to ruin things. In the midst of confusion he told me he had a confession.

“What is it? Tell me…”

“I don’t want to creep you out but…check your text message.”

I opened his text and there sat a drawing of a woman who looked uncannily like me.

He had gotten his cards read, as in a psychic reading, and this spiritual guide had drawn a picture of what his soulmate would look like. He had screenshot a picture of me and placed it next to the drawing. We stared…Baffled!…He was feeling what I was feeling.

After making promises with each other to not have sex, we decided to meet up later that night. He pulled up in a black Mercedes-AMG. Unlavish huh Ang?

And just as suspected, he was gorgeous…and he knew it.

When he explained to me how insecure his exes were, he had said it wasn’t his fault he looks the way he looks. And I laughed, and said, “Oh so it’s their fault that you’re so good looking huh?”

He would explain that it didn’t matter how one looks, that this day in age we can buy every single body part and manipulate it.

“Our mind and hearts cannot be bought,” he insisted.

We walked into the Matador restaurant and I noticed he still had the posture of a boxer and the walk of a fighter.

He stood out, the way he dressed, the way he glared, and the way he carried himself. He stood well above most people in height. But as much as all this could make him the most confident, weirdly enough it didnt. He was anxious, and refused to sit at the narrow tables because of his fear of “slim tables” in his words. Which makes sense. We wanted something intimate, and not have to rub elbows with people.

He asked me if I thought he intimated the waitress, and I said yes. He was a powerful vessel carrying an array of energies. And thats exactly how I saw a him. I didnt sexualize him, nor objectify him. I simply admired his way of thought. I admired the smiles I would win over when he would finally give me one. Have you noticed that I haven’t even given him a name? Because I couldn’t even put a name to him. But I will now.

We’ll name him Flash.

Now, Matador is a restaurant that turns into a nightclub passed 10 pm. So we would experience three dates in one day. The “have a drink at the bar” date, an actual dinner date, and finally, the party scene. A speed date on steroids and while every date transitioned in and out, we were locked in on each other.

He was a hibiscus flower taking its time opening up.

But just like the hibiscus flower opens in day, at times it wilts, away within two.

The restaurant had turned into a nightclub, the red lights were dancing on his mouth and green eyes as he spoke. We were on our second drink when I realized I didnt want to be tipsy. I wanted to feel so much of the things he was saying so coherently. He shared with me that he didn’t know his dad wasn’t his dad until he went to the DMV, therefore causing emotional trauma, and also not understanding his own heritage, which scares him. He was candid about his anarchists ways, his anger with the manipulative government, and growing up being a demon child.

Boxing was all he knew and resorted to violence in numerous situations.

I counted about 7 red flags. But who’s perfect?…Right? We’re looking for a connection not perfection…Right?!

I was sold. If someone can talk about healing, and meditations, and molecular evolution, then surely he’s been doing inner healing work. Right?

Not me jumping over red flag hurtles like a track star. Consecutive winner of the gold medal in the category of attracting brokenness.

Anyway, he had leaned over and kissed me in mid-sentence. He stole two kisses in row. I was stunned but received them gracefully. And little by little we mingled our way to breaking that sex promise. A Fool’s Mate chess game in play.

It was my fault. I had admitted to him that if we found ourselves alone, he’d have to build a wall between us to keep me away.

After talking about our fascination with time and space, in which prompted us to talk about the movie Interstellar…we decided to go home and watch the movie.

We didn’t watch a single minute of the movie, we were talking and kissing the entire time. He said many times he was ok with just cuddling, but I needed to know. Everything felt so right, and I just needed to know what I was getting myself into.

It was passed 3 am and while listening to 432 Hertz vibrate from my phone, we consummated in what I felt was a whirlwind of romance.

Attempting to not sexualize him STILL, let me hit you with the scientific FACT. I believe they call it macropenis, aka macrophallus, aka megalopenis.

So when I say he was huge, I mean he was as big as my forearm. Up until he plopped it out, I would have no idea.

“Umm wow, you could have given me a fair warning…”

To which he responded, “What did you want me to do? Tell you, “Hey, by the way, I have a huge dick”?

We both laughed. My laugh was more nervous, his was haughty.

I hadn’t seen something that large since my ex from Switzerland.

Suddenly it was all clear, his exes were dickmatized, they were driven insane and I understood why. He’s been slangin’ that thing around most of his entire life and all I saw was trouble. TROUBLE.

Look I’m not one to be attracted to sizes, big or not, I was still more interested in his journey. (Shhhhhhhhuuuurreeee Ang SURE).

Not me dedicating two paragraphs to his penis… I must move on.

We slept 4 hours. Talked all morning about everything from between time traveling to teleportation from our last relationship to what we want now.

At that moment I received a direct message from my ex, Scorpio, “Ang, can we talk??”

Flash saw my face expression and asked, “what?”

I told him. We laid in silence, then both shrugged it off.

I continued to learn him, how giving he was, the books he’s read, and how money would never be the source of his happiness. I was impressed on how big his heart was for someone who hated a lot of people.

He kept having deja vu with me, and admitted he never felt the way he felt when he was next to me. He would bury his face on my chest and just hug me. I saw his inner child seeking to be loved and understood. I wanted to be that source but at what cost? There were countless broken pieces in him that I have had in the past and had been working on for years.

In the few days we clung to each other, it was as though we had know each other for a hundred years.

“Did I manifest you?” Flash asked.

To which I rebutted with the same question, “did I manifest YOU?”

Maybe the devil manifested this union as the devil can be our fears.

To change the subject, I asked, “if you boxed and fought your whole life, why is your nose so perfect?” He grinned and replied, “because I never got hit.”

He was a numbingly handsome creature but his admitted inadequacies made him human.

It was time to go, this exquisite little galaxy we were creating was to be continued. And since I tend to use romance as escapism, there was much reality to engage with.

In came the, “already missing you” text message and “I can’t stop thinking about you.”

I felt dangerously the same. My gut was attempting to knock some sense into me. My mind was telling my gut to shut the fuck up.

Wednesday went by slowly and gradually blossomed into Thursday.

That morning all it took was a simple, “wanna grab lunch?” from Flash for me to cancel Thursday. I mean everyone needs a lunch break riiiiiight?

He swooped me up and we headed to the Anaheim Packing District.

During the drive, he had told me he had gone to the fair the day before which made sense as we barely spoke Wednesday. However, some of the things he said he did and the text he had sent me the day before didn’t collaborate. Many times his phone notifications were off and it seemed secretive but who am I to question this grown man I’d just met?

Anyway, knowing I was a vegetarian, he escorted me to the Healthy Junk restaurant. He was giving up his meat cravings to eat a meatless meal. I began to forget about those red flags. Yup, that easily, shaking my damn head.

He ordered a “chicken” sandwich, and I ordered “chicken” wings. SO GOOD.

Afterward, we walked around the shopping center and he kept asking me if I wanted anything, pointing at random shops adamant to buy something. I politely declined. We walked by the Hammer Workshop and Bar and he offered me a drink, to which I politely accepted…SAY LESS! And there we sat for hours gluttonously scavenging through the menu, ordering everything and anything interesting.

“I feel like I know you, but not so much emotionally,” I told him. I was obsessed with so much about him but all of that was talk. How would he implement all the things he’s learned via books and teachings into his life?

We were in session once again. I learned about his speech impediment growing up, and his battle with stuttering in which I began to notice some stammering as we drank more. I learned about his fear of going into airplane mode and functioning off 10% of his brain. Was he on airplane mode? He had reiterated some things we had spoken on Tuesday. Did he forget that we spoke about it or was passionate about the subject? It was almost like a repetitive record. A wound that hadn’t been worked on.

Regardless, it was a wonderful time, we learned a lot about the bar keeper and his passion for fusion drinks.

It was time to go home, before we knew it it was late evening.

We get to my place and tried different positions we didnt get to that morning of consummation. (SORRY MOM)

Without getting too explicit, lets just say I was wounded for a few days after that.

He would nap, and I put on The Bachelorette because my best friend Caitlin has been hounding me to watch it. As addictive as it has been, I just wanted to get it over and done with to move into another HULU genre. During his light sleep he would mutter things like, “So when do I move in?” and “You gotta take that IUD out” you know…my birth control.

WHAT was going on?! I would chuckle, like maybe I WILL.

Was I actually willing to have his demon child?

Anyway, he had to go home and feed his dogs. He reminded me to charge my crystals in the full moon that night. At that, I was ready to pull out my IUD MYSELF. Whichhhhh guy reminds his girl to recharge her crystals because of the last super moon of the year? It is UNHEARD of!

We texted each other throughout the night, and the last thing I said was, “Goodnight lovely.”

That morning I headed to my hot yoga session, the doubts were circling around my aura.

How was I going to escape such a powerful connection? Do I bite the bullet and join someone’s troubling journey? Give up my selfish needs to help myself in order to help repair this person? Because that’s what I do, I fixate on all the reparable things.

As I walked out of the sauna and headed to my locker, the doubts hovered and followed me. I checked my phone expecting a text from him but there was none.

He had said that there are times he really just wanted to spend on his own, and I completely understood.

Friday bled, into Saturday, which drained, into Sunday, which left Monday up for grabs. I figured he was busy that weekend…but then that week flew by, and just like that he had disappeared, full ghost mode. Perplexed, I reached out to a few of my go-to’s:

My Spirtual Guide laughed when I told her, she said, “How eerie! Like ‘don’t forget to charge your crystals under the full moon’ wooOOooOooo! And disappears, like, is he some sort of alien?“

My guy best friend Kevin laughed at me, “Ang, come on, COMEEE ONNN, you ignored the red flags, and you find it fascinating that he ghosted you? WAKE UP! Hahahahahahaha! Hang it up!”

Caitlin has always had a big heart, “Why don’t you just text him? Don’t play games.”

NOPE, there are rules, and I was the last to text so there’s that.

My sister Anita was like, “WHAT?!, ok your life is like a horror slash ROM COM movie, like bone-chilling, and hilarious,”

To which I responded with, “You’re lucky you got out of the dating scene a decade ago because it’s a fucking circus out here, and now I have to go and make sure my uterus isn’t broken! Him swinging that thing around recklessly like a it’s weapon for mass destruction.”

They ALL laughed at me. 3 days guys, thats what it took.

Was it because I was too Latina? Or because I watched trash TV like The Bachelorette while he half napped? Or because of my bad posture, or how I kept insisting on ways he could reperant his inner child? Was he unprepared to begin that journey many men set in their ways shy away from? Therefore disallowing himself to self love and love freely and unafraid? Or was he just a Hinge bandit? Sprinkling his love potion freely?

I questioned so much of myself which meant there was still major work to be done in the self-love arena.

Then it suddenly dawned on me, when I met Flash it was the day I took a mental health day because my vibrational frequencies were at a record breaking low.

My empath-ass attracted Flash, and in a flash he was gone.

I mistook our alignment. It would have been a poisonous karmic concoction.

I need routine, I need structure. How could I fathom a life with someone who is terrified to go grocery shopping? When I myself have to use every drop of bravery to step in target.

How can a hyper-sustainable, super green-friendly vegetarian create a life with someone who doesn’t believe in global warming?! How could I continue a conversation with someone who believes the world is flat when my own father engineered at NASA?!

TO BE FAIR, I had told him that if we didnt feel that click, and that we had to promise not to waste each other’s time. And out of the promises we made with one another, that was the only one he kept.

I had literally went to order an Ancestory kit for him to help him understand his heritage and where he came from since he was unaware of his roots. Like a lil’ bob the builder ready to renovate and replenish. **I’m cackling**

Well he’s certainly European because I’ve yet to see an American D that size.

Moral of the story, don’t be an unaware and entrapped by emotion. Logic should always be the foundation.

I would’ve clung to him, meditated with him. I would have dragged him to yoga, and would have taken all the steps to begin his healing journey. I would have discontinued my healing and self-love journey to refocus on someone else. And that is not okay.

It’s ok to be selfish.

If you’ve read my last blogs, you know that I dedicate each year to certain healings, such as killing the ego, but this year it was allowing myself to be selfish and stop giving so much heart to everyone else.

He saved us from like I said, what could have been a natural disaster, and I will always admire him for that.

All I can do now is send healing energy to Flash, and all I can do is love that child who grew up in a trailer park at the end of a dirt road who became a beautifully aware man.

Now over 3,700 words, put into 3 days, I’ve plastered these thoughts in this excerpt. So it can be just that. Words that need not hinder my mind.

Time to repair my insides and back to my sabbatical I go.

Now play “Hands Down” by Dashboard Confessionals

Breath in for luck.