I never expected love to strike while I was rebuilding my life on the island of Gran Canaria. Sure, I’d spent eight vibrant years there—my best years, truth be told—but my focus this time was on survival: finding a job, keeping it, securing my residency, managing my modest income, and putting a roof over my head. Love wasn’t even on my radar.
Until i got a job in public relations. My friend Shazad owned an Indian restaurant near my apartment and needed someone to invite people in from the street. It was a simple job, but it put me in the perfect position to meet him. The Cute Colombian Cab Driver.
He’d often park outside, heading to the Colombian restaurant next door for dinner. The first time I saw him, my thoughts were literally: "Oh Lord, he’s hot." He had a way of greeting me—polite yet magnetic—that hinted at something more. Little by little, our conversations grew. After months of small talk, I finally learned his name. Numbers were exchanged, chats followed, and by late November, we shared our first kiss. That kiss was electric. The air between us buzzed with undeniable chemistry; even friends noticed the tension when we were in the same room. There was no explaining it, no rationalizing it—just an invisible force pulling us together. And for the next six and a half years, we were together. But not in any way that could be called traditional. The truth? It was a love that burned as fiercely as it destroyed. The attraction was cement-strong, the chemistry like lightning—but the fights? Pure hell. We argued over everything, trust was scarce, and our schedules rarely aligned. I worked days while he worked nights. I lived alone; he rented a room in someone else’s house. Despite my unconventional approach to life, this love left me drained and empty. I loved him from my very soul, but he rarely seemed to care. Words like "I love you" never escaped his lips, and we broke up more times than I can count. Once, the break lasted a year and a half. He left the island without a word, vanishing from my life. That stretch of time nearly destroyed me. I felt hollow, like I was dying inside. When he finally called me again, it felt like breathing after drowning. During that painful time apart, I somehow pieced my life together. I secured my residence card, bought a 125cc scooter, and moved out of the apartment in that bad environment. I was surviving—but barely. And when he returned in August 2017, I took him back without hesitation, though every scar on my heart screamed against it. Sadly it turned out that we hadn’t learned a thing. The toxicity continued, the battles just as brutal. Our connection was as karmic as it was chaotic, leaving us both emotionally bruised. During some good moments i do remember us doing meditation together, which was a magical day for me. Before I knew it, the world changed in March 2020. COVID-19 struck—and it threw everything into turmoil. To be continued... Photo: 08 May 2018, airport of Gran Canaria
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