Dates aren’t really my thing as I’ve always been a loner, but I do remember the worst date I went on a few years before meeting my husband. I was studying Spanish in college and was completely in love with the culture. I wanted to meet a Spanish guy badly. My dreams came true when Leonardo, a 22-year-old chemist from Barcelona, joined our class. He was living with a host family at the time, and he was really friendly, charismatic and had the sexiest accent in the world.
We became friends almost instantly, which is really easy to do when you’re both attracted to one another. A few weeks after meeting him, we were already hooking up and sleeping together. It was as steamy as it was wrong, because Leonardo loved to keep his options available as he wasn’t “the type to ever want to commit.” He claimed he was a lover of women and that people should love each other more, instead of trying to possess one another as if they were property. This, at the time, totally made sense. The problem was I was falling in love. I had to deal with him flirting with other women in front of me.