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THE LATINA SEX AND THE CITY
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I’m going on six whole years of singledom. That’s six years of dates gone wrong, six years of self-reflection and learning to love myself, and six years of not understanding what the hell men want.
This year, however, I am trying to keep positive. I told myself that somehow, someway things will be different, starting with using positive affirmations. Let’s try now, shall we? “My love life does not suck. My love life does not suck. My love life does not suck.” Yup. Still single.
Unsure of how to turn my relationship status to Facebook official with someone other than me, I turned to Karen (no, not that Karen), my spiritual advisor, who suggested that I close my eyes and use the power of visualization. Ok, let’s try this again. “I will manifest an amazing relationship with a wonderful man delivered to me by God himself. This will be my reality even if it kills me. I mean, obviously, I’m hoping to live. That would defeat the purpose of summoning a man. But, you get my point.”
I peeked at Karen. “Yup, my love life still sucks,” I said to her despondent.
“Jeanine,” Karen began, “be clear. Ask the universe for what you want and you will get it,” she reassured me once again.
I got to work that evening, giving this manifestation thing another shot. I slipped into my tub and set the mood with lit candles. (I’m so romantic.) I shut my eyes and said: “Okay, Universe, I know the world is literally on your shoulders – it’s been a hell of a year – but can you somehow bring me a nice loving man? Please? Oh, and I wouldn’t mind if you help me win the lotto too. Just one time. Thanks!”
Weeks passed and I waited and waited and waited for my man to show up somehow, someway. But the only man that arrived was the UPS man delivering my products from Amazon. Maybe this is him? I winked and flirted and nada! Fed up, I decided to ignore my spiritual advisors’ pleas for patience (I’m not about that life, Karen) and booked an appointment with an actual psychic.
I don’t know why I didn’t think about going to a psychic before. I grew up in a Latino household, so I’ve always been surrounded by saints, natural get-well remedies, and of course, my abuela’s luck and money potions, which consist of strong-smelling herbs, holy water, colorful soaps, and oils. Her place smells like a botanica for weeks on end. Along with prayers, my family has always sought guidance from traditional Latino psychics as well as tarot readers. I even learned to read tarot cards and tried predicting my love life, but just like a doctor can’t operate on himself, I couldn’t tap into my own future. So going to a psychic was the natural next step.
I walked in and I was surrounded by crystals, tarot cards, and candles. She took me to a small room where quiet meditation music played. I sat down and she asked me to pick out some cards before proceeding to read the entire deck.
“This year is a new beginning,” she started, “last year was a year of endings and unexpected things.” Makes sense, I thought. I had three unexpected surgeries from October to December.
“You will get a better-paying job or move away,” she continued, and I am amazed. I am looking for both a new job and a new state to relocate to.
“What about my love life?” I blurted out.
“It’s on the back burner,” she said matter-a-factly. “You don’t go out to meet people. How do you expect to find someone?”
Um, hello! You don’t know my life, lady! I wanted to yell. I wanted to argue. I wanted to tell her she was wrong. But let’s face it, she’s a psychic. Of course, she was right! I have not allowed myself to open up. I do not have a social life. She just reaffirmed what I already knew: I am in charge of my love life. If I want to see action, I must take action.
So, next time I’ll save myself the $40 I spent on the psychic and buy myself a cute outfit for a night out on the town. Cause UPS guy ain’t budging and things will be different this year somehow, someway.
Written by Jeanine