Lost in Translation

This article is for the women and the gays who are unfortunately attracted to cis men; we need to do better.

Mexico City (CDMX: Ciudad de Mexico) is wild: The city is huge and one wrong train ride will cost you an extra 30 minutes. The tacos are addictive until you get food poisoning and the mezcal is to die for (literally, it burns). The best days are spent in Coyoacan, running through the rain and walking into random shops that charge an arm and a leg for beauty. It rains a lot but it is the only time you won’t mind your phone and hair getting wet–a free therapy session. The women are kinder than most and the men are either strange or way too attractive–there’s no in-between. And best of all, you feel young and alive and living.

CDMX was the one trip I planned well in advance with my friend, Baaba. She had previously studied abroad in the city and loved every bit of it and so I wanted a piece of that cake. My entire summer was therefore curated to end in CDMX with her.

On our first day together, Baaba and I decided that I was a dumb ass for not packing a jacket and so we set off on the train to look for some thrift stores. The one store we found sold jackets for 13 USD–I haven’t paid that much for a jacket since I started paying my own phone bills at 15.

But as fate would have it, the best taco truck in the entire city (I swear by this), was around the corner. Baaba and I sat eating over twenty tacos in the span of an hour while the rain threatened pneumonia. To add on to the excitement of eating tacos and drinking beers in the rain, the most beautiful guy showed up to the scene. He was a bartender who knew his looks would get him all the tips in the world–and he got them from us.

The bartender, let’s call him Sofe because that is what his mother named him, is the king of mixed signals. I’d go more into detail but let’s just say, it is plainly unfair for anyone to be that much of a casanova and still lack basic communication skills.

I always knew I was a flirt but flirting with Sofe was a whole new level of skill–a skill I mastered in Mexico.

Sofe raised several questions for my girlfriend, Baaba, and I, about the men we have encountered in our lives. How often do we hear stories about men who lead women on for years only to move on to another under the guise of ‘you knew what this was’? How many times do we immediately point fingers at the woman, swearing to the hills that she was simply naive while we pat men on their backs for being champions and breaking more hearts? Is it all just lost in translation?

My girl and I ended our time in CDMX with a blast. We met another cutie who showed us the city through his eyes and at 3am in the morning, we said goodbye to each other at the airport. I would say more but our Coyoacan adventure deserves an entire article and will be given that respect in due time.

CDMX did, however, teach me that I, in fact, do not know or understand men and will most likely never bother to. Still, the city has my heart if not for the tacos and laughter, then for the rain that made me feel young again.

mille baisers,


Last day in CDMX




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