A Night I Wasn’t Supposed to Have

“For once in my life, I have someone who needs me. Someone I’ve needed so long. For once, unafraid, I can go where life leads me. Somehow I know I’ll be strong.”

This Stevie Wonder song has been an anthem for me for a while—a perfect record that feels like skipping on air. Every time I listen, this little voice in my head goes, ugh, I can’t wait to sing this when I have a boyfriend. But two Saturday nights ago, practically skipping through the Barca streets with this blasting in my AirPods, I realized: I can sing it right now, no boyfriend, and truly believe it.

Come the last few weeks, the push and pull has subsided, and I am finally breathing in the entirety of this abroad experience.

Running & The Art of Staying

My Achilles heel is literally that I love to run. I did it my whole childhood the second I felt an ounce of discomfort. And while I’ve healed so much—the battle scars fading—I still jet at the sound of a siren. The farther I go, the quieter it gets, right? Wrong.

Running from any pain at all only postpones the benefits on the other side of facing it. Waking up to the fact that everything is energy is life-changing. We create electromagnetic fields with our minds and hearts that shape what comes into our reality. 

It isn’t the discomfort of our experiences that draws in situations and people who make us feel misunderstood or weak—it’s the refusal to grow from discomfort and the desire to skip to the good part. 

But unfortunately, life isn’t a soundtrack we can shuffle through if we don’t like the vibe. 

We have to make music out of whatever tempo is set.

And if we listen closely enough, sometimes the next song is already playing in the background—waiting for us to hear it.

The Night Everything Aligned

I wrote that 2 Saturdays ago. This last Saturday, I lived it.

I met someone—someone special.

Someone who found me with the words: “I just wanted to tell you that you have really good energy.”

It’s the damn heart waves.

Ever since I woke up to the idea that this world is far bigger than my single understanding—that I am nothing compared to the divine, yet everything to its advancement—nothing has been the same.

I used to spend life searching. Now, I realize that the more lost I allow myself to get, the more discomfort I embrace, and the more pain I face head-on, the more found I become. By the world. By its people. By its gifts, wisdom, and experiences.

And so, that’s exactly what has happened. I set the intention to get lost in Barcelona, hoping to uncover my most authentic self. I asked for the push and pull that would make me appreciate the journey. I even predicted that, on the other side of discomfort, I would find friendship—and maybe even that four-letter word.

Wow. Little did I know.

I can go where life leads me.

Rewritten Plans

I’ve met some truly incredible people here—in the most organic ways. Somehow, some way, they are all becoming part of my soul, more interconnected by the day.

Looking back, weaving this story together, it’s incredible to realize—I wasn’t even supposed to be out the night I met him. My plan was simple: a nice Italian dinner with new friends I met through my Charlotte, then an early night to catch up on sleep. But life had other ideas.

When those friends got sick, my plans unraveled, making space for something entirely unexpected. Three girls—complete strangers I met while crossing the street—invited Charlotte and I to a jazz club and an Irish bar instead.

At the jazz club, we talked about the energy of the room—how transcendent the music felt. In our little Sex and the City friend group of 4, let’s call her another one of my Samanthas, has been particular about going out. She protects her peace and loves herself. I can almost hear Samantha’s “I love me more” coming through her voice.

When she suggested we go out, we just had to. If Samantha feels a good vibe, it’s going to be a good night.

So, on this Saturday night, a night when I was supposed to be at an Italian dinner and catching up on sleep, I found myself in an Irish bar with my three girls and my Charlotte.

And that is where I met him.

Mr. International

Tall, kind, and radiating quiet strength, he carried himself with an effortless ease that immediately drew me in. An MMA fighter, jiu-jitsu teacher, weekend skydiver, military man, and humanitarian—he embodied both power and patience. A man who jumps out of planes for fun but takes his time when it comes to connection.

A fighter without scars. Despite surgeries and wounds, he heals almost instantly—something even he doesn’t fully understand. And yet, here he is, healing my own battle scars just as effortlessly.

His presence is grounding rather than overwhelming, his energy speaks louder than words.

Words that he is practically speaking for the first time.

Born in Brazil and later moving to Barcelona, he speaks three languages—English being the third. He only picked it up a few years ago when boredom struck through watching Modern Family (yes, he's perfect—I know). Now, he works tirelessly to communicate with me—proof that he is the very definition of if he wanted to, he would. Though not yet fluent, his actions and character speak louder than even the most perfect words ever could.

His name? In Portuguese, it embodies the sun god and yang—pure light. And that’s exactly what he is to me. After so much darkness, he’s been my warmth, my glow.

Synchronicity in Stilettos

Ironically, on this night—towering in my stiletto heels—my own mind was the loudest voice in the room, long before I first heard his.

Look around. Everyone is fixated on your height. It’s all they see.

I fought the thought as best I could, reminding myself: I can only hope they sense I am more than that. That I am a good person worth getting to know.

Minutes later, we were laughing around a table when my friend leaned in too far—sending an entire Irish tray of drinks spilling over me and my stilettos.

Slightly cold and caught off guard, I felt something unexpected: pure amusement. All I could do was laugh—a good, ugly laugh. I looked up and met the eyes of a gorgeous, tall man—Mr. International—laughing right along with me. My cheeks burned as I turned my head to the side, blushing.

Now it was time to figure out our next move for the night. The girls and I decided on Pacha, a club by the beach. As we gathered our things, that gorgeous, tall man speed-walked over.

And then he said it:

"I just wanted to tell you that you have really good energy."

Read my damn mind—then cleared it of a broken record and started a new song.

…

Later, when we were sharing songs AKA the keys to our hearts, he smiled and told me, “There’s an American song that reminds me of you.” And then he played I Don’t Want to Miss a Thing—the very song my uncle wrote with Aerosmith. The song I’ve always held closest to my heart, imagining it to be exactly what true love feels like.

Out of every song in the whole wide world, he choses mine.

And as if there isn’t enough magic woven into the man, my good luck necklace—the one I made with my hometown best friend—is adorned with a green jewel and a gold medallion of a serpent. An anaconda.

Which, somehow, just happens to be tattooed on the side of his arm. His only tattoo.

And the name of his jiu-jitsu gym.

Written in Serendipity

We spend so much of life looking for things—especially that four-letter word. And every time, we are met with the beautiful reality that when it needs to find you, it will grab you, an anaconda tightening its grip. Just when you think you're in control, only to realize you've been wrapped up in something greater all along.

So, here I was. A Saturday night. Stiletto heels. An Irish bar. Meeting someone who feels like a gift to the self that worried about protecting her heart, giving too much, and losing herself in the process of falling.

In just seven days, I have gone from being the happiest single girl in the world to the happiest __?__ girl who just earned her new gift and next chapter.

I’ve discovered that four-letter word starts within and does not lie in the external. That I can dive into someone, however, with a parachute and safe landing. That I don’t need to be swept off my feet—rather, grounded through them. That I can feel even more connected to the world, my femininity, and myself through the heart of someone else.

And, of course, that I don’t want to miss a thing—not one single moment—about this experience.

Maybe this is the real meaning of the song I’ve been singing.

For once in my life, I am someone who needs me—someone who’s been there all along.
For once, unafraid, I trust where life leads me.
And somehow, I know I’ll belong.