Corazones Dulces
As is our typical ritual, my friend Dee-Dee and I exchanged Christmas gifts nearly a month after the holiday had passed. Maybe it’s our way of prolonging the season, but more likely, it’s just forgetfulness. It is nice, though, to have some splash of festivity after the holiday fanfare has died down. Especially now that we will go months without a corporate sanctioned day off, through bitter January into bleak February and still brutal March.
There is, of course, St. Valentine’s Day. I have not had the best of luck with this holiday, I should admit. Last year I almost got chocolates, but that is as close as I’ve come in ages to actually celebrating this day.
But this year is all about more love, and I intend on making Muriel Rukeyser proud. This more love mantra can inform and inspire so many areas of life: platonic love, familial love, self love, and yes, Latin love.
It came to me like a bolt of lightning as I was strolling through the candy aisle at Target this weekend: I must find a Latin lover. I had one once, you know, so many years ago. His name was Raymundo, a Panamanian exchange student who lived in my dorm. It was a brief affair, as it was meant to be, but I never forgot how much he loved the band Heart. I ran into him years later, and his once thick accent was but a hint that only slipped out after several Cuba Libres. He had become so very ordinary.
My new Latin lover will be anything but ordinary, and probably won’t even know who the band Heart is. I will tell him, “They are called Corazon in your language. They are sisters. I think that one is Nancy… oh, it doesn’t matter. Just kiss me.”
And so begins my quest:
Step One: Bait
I sift through this box carefully, and examine each heart with jeweler’s precision. If I had a loupe, it would be firmly affixed to my eye right now. They must be perfect. My Latin lover deserves only the best, so I devour any heart that is not up to my standards. Slightly misshapen? Chomp! Blurry letters? Chomp! Adios? Chomp!
Why would I want to tell my Latin lover goodbye? I will never tell him goodbye, not even when we part. I will only tell him, te amo. Or perhaps I will call him mi vida, or one of the other seven phrases I have learned from these hearts. He will not mind that the only Spanish I speak comes courtesy of Necco, so strong is our amor.
The rest of this week will be spent placing these hearts in strategic locations throughout Chicago, with my phone number written neatly on the back in non-toxic ink. I must never poison my Latin lover.
It is no accident that this is the last heart I pull from the box:
I hope
Filed under: General on January 18th, 2006
January 18th, 2006 at 12:00 am
How extraordinarily lovely!
Espero.
January 18th, 2006 at 12:41 am
If I was a Latin lover, after reading this post, I would search the city of Chicago high and low for one of your candy hearts. When and if (espero) I found one, I would place it in my mouth, letting its non-toxic ink stain your number on my tongue. And then I would call you and we would begin.
(This is a beautiful post. It truly makes me want to be a Latin lover.)
January 18th, 2006 at 8:37 am
These corazones of the Necco, they speak verdad! They tell you of the pasión ardiente and amor dulce.
And that phone number in non-toxic ink – genius!
¡vaya para él!
January 18th, 2006 at 10:01 am
Usted, máquina de hilar, querida, merece encontrar al amante latino más hermoso y más fuerte y divertido siempre. Déjeme saber si usted quisiera ir el vacaciones a buscarlo – puedo ser listo en diez minutos.
(Translated – You, Jenny, dear, deserve to find the most handsome and strong and funny Latin lover ever. Let me know if you would like to go on vacation to look for him – I can be ready in ten minutes.)
January 18th, 2006 at 10:45 am
Please tell me if the connection between the band Heart and the candy hearts was intentional. It was so subtile, yet so brilliant.
Can you come to DC and leave candy lying around? I could use a snack.
January 18th, 2006 at 11:01 am
THB: Gracias, mi amiga!
Erik: If only you had kept your Chico and the Man mustache… I think you have a bit of a Latin lover streak in you already, though.
TS: Si – the Necco candies will never lead you astray!
Jess: Thank god you translated that for me, because I thought you were telling me I needed to get a vaccine for something. Have your passport ready for my call!
4of5: The connection was intentional, but certainly not fictional. His love of Heart was quite endearing. He was my Magic Man, I was his Barracuda… okay – that last part might be entirely fictional, but he did have a thing for the Wilsons.
January 18th, 2006 at 11:07 am
I have a passport so am good to go!
Looks like I’ll also have to be your translator during our trip abroad (’cause I totally didn’t use an online translator for my comment)….no worries, though, I won’t tell your prospective Latin suitors that you have an itchy, itchy rash no longer responding to topical ointment.
January 18th, 2006 at 11:26 am
Jess – I speak the only language I need to… love. the language of love. (can anyone tell me what movie that’s from?)
January 18th, 2006 at 12:02 pm
Jenny, I have a confession. So, I am so bad at remembering quotes, and I SO know the one above (“I speak the only language I need to…love, the language of love”) and I have been racking my brain trying to remember what it’s from, but it’s just not coming to me, so then I tried to cheat by looking it up on imdb.com, and of course, I couldn’t find it, but this came up instead and I thought it was funny because it’s not even a line of dialogue, but rather a description, and also it’s perfectly appropriate for this thread, so I’m cutting and pasting my search results here, from “Tomorrow Never Dies (1997)”:
[Making love to his language tutor]
January 18th, 2006 at 12:03 pm
I was briefly involved with an older, Italian gentleman named Nico. I strongly suggest you open up yourself to the possiblity of an Italian man. We didn’t have much to talk about so we didn’t do much talking. It was fabulous.
January 18th, 2006 at 12:29 pm
Erik – I was a bit misleading. I think the official quote is more like, “They speak the internaaaational language. Love. The language of love.” More like that.
Pants – Oh, I would never rule out an Italian man! But I didn’t see Italian candy hearts, so that may have to wait until later in the year…
January 18th, 2006 at 4:58 pm
Um, I have a passport. And I have friends — si, amigos — in Nicaragua and a standing invitation to visit them anytime. And you could come with me.
(Now can I have a BBF pin, too?)
January 18th, 2006 at 11:32 pm
a Latin lover…hmmm… brings back memories of a live for the moment attitude, a passion for me, when their own music was not playing, a forgetfulness — including about the fact that I was, well, married… Yeah, Latin lover. Know him/her too well.
January 18th, 2006 at 11:42 pm
If my memories of seventh grade Spanish class serve me well, “esperar” also means “to wait” as well as “to hope.” Ironic, huh? Yo espero tambien.
January 19th, 2006 at 7:21 am
Shari: Nicaragua, you say? Please look for your BFF broken heart locket in the mail soon!
Nina: Ooh, girl, why haven’t I seen that story on your blog?!
Cheryl: Yeah… why isn’t assertiveness a virtue? Patience is overrated.
January 19th, 2006 at 10:00 am
Better Off Dead
The line was spoken by Ricky’s mom to describe her son’s love for that French girl (Monique).
January 20th, 2006 at 8:19 am
When I started blogging two years ago it never struck me to be at least pseudoanonymous. Since I use my real name and my real students, employers, children and now ex-husband read it, there’s much that cannot be said. I use other bloggers’ comment section to recall nights spent hopelessly enthralled with a Latin someone, with a lifestyle exactly the opposite of mine. It changed me forever.
January 20th, 2006 at 11:12 am
Do you have a candy heart that reads ‘discreet’?
January 20th, 2006 at 11:57 am
Dr. G – well done! God, how I loved that movie…
nina – yes, that would certainly hinder your ability to share tales of Latin lovers. You can think of this comments section as your confessional, but without any penance. But please don’t tell me if you killed someone, because I can’t be responsible for aiding and abetting a murderer. It’s just too much for my delicate sensibilities to handle.
asia – No, but perhaps I should make some custom hearts… not a bad idea! “Discreet” “Conflicted” “Tortured soul” “Uninhibited” Hmm… any others?
January 20th, 2006 at 1:14 pm
Doesn’t espero mean “to wait”? Like, as in, wait wait wait and maybe someone will walk through that door?
I’ve been waiting alot. Maybe I should have been hoping.
January 20th, 2006 at 1:26 pm
This is a well thought-out plan. My only suggestion is that you purchase dramatic-looking clothing in preparation for the big meeting. I think the Latin Lover will be a passionate man, fond of reds…(visual of female matador).
January 20th, 2006 at 9:51 pm
Aye, chiquita, you have not experienced the fullness of Latin love by settling for a Panamanian. Central America is no South America. Escuchame, target Brazil or Argentina. Gracias me later.
Those hearts are reason #098345098234097234 why I miss Chicago.