"Raúl, you’re gonna kill the romance before it even starts.” That’s what my cousin María said when I told her my grand plan: a full-spread picnic date. Not just any picnic—the kind of overly orchestrated spectacle you see in rom-com montages. I had visions of perfectly curated charcuterie boards, an old-school thermos of Cuban coffee (because café con leche is non-negotiable), and even a playlist featuring Celia Cruz and Alicia Keys. The works.

I wanted to impress Carolina—a woman who had effortlessly flipped my world upside down after one salsa class. She had this radiant smile with the audacity to make a guy trip over his own feet, which I definitely did (twice). So, yeah, it had to be perfect.

What could possibly go wrong, right?

Oh, reader, everything. Every. Single. Thing.

Act I: Delusions of Grandeur in the Florida Heat

The troubles started with the weather. Florida doesn’t get seasons; we get hurricanes with a side of surprise thunderstorms. The forecast said “partly cloudy,” and I—clearly drunk on optimism—thought a shady tree would save us. I picked a secluded spot at a nearby park, complete with sprawling banyans and enough birds to make it feel like a Disney flick.

But by the time I unpacked what was meant to be an Instagrammable charcuterie board, the humidity had already started melting my Gouda. Carolina, being an angel on earth, laughed it off: “It’s okay, Raúl. Cheese is just fancy sweating in Miami.”

Then came the ants. Because of course there were ants. Like some secret insect signal had gone out announcing free manchego, every ant colony within a 10-block radius RSVP’d, bringing their entire extended family. The food became carnage, and I could feel my confidence shrinking faster than a popsicle in July.

Act II: Coffee Catastrophes and Avocado Humility

When the ants claimed their victory, I pivoted to Plan B: the thermos filled with my homemade café con leche. Did my abuelo teach me how to make it perfectly frothy with just the right amount of sugar? Absolutely. Did I tightly secure the lid of the thermos? Absolutely not.

In a move that would eventually make me wonder if the universe was plotting against me, Carolina unscrewed the lid without realizing it was precariously loose. Scalding coffee shot out like a geyser. She yelped, I panicked, and let’s just say it’s a little harder to flirt when someone’s fanning their arm with a napkin covered in coffee stains.

What sealed the deal, though, was the avocado. I’d made it into a little guacamole dip—nothing fancy, just fresh lime, garlic, and salt. But when I tried to be cute by feeding her some on a cracker, my hand shook (because, you know, nerves), and a generous glob landed on her white sundress.

Cracker crumbs? Ground-level embarrassing. Guac smears? Top-tier disaster.

Act III: When Expectations Meet Reality

At this point, I was ready to call it quits, buy Carolina an apology churro, and pretend this had never happened. But right when my inner monologue started rehearsing “Sorry, I ruined everything,” Carolina started laughing—a laugh so infectious that I couldn’t help but smile, too. She looked at my defeated expression, her once-pristine dress now rocking hints of green avocado couture, and said:

“Raúl, this is probably the most fun I’ve had in weeks.”

I blinked. Fun? FUN? Surely, I misheard her over the dying strains of Celia Cruz playing on my weather-worn portable speaker. But no, she meant it. And she wasn’t laughing at me—she was laughing with me.

“It’s nice to see you not trying so hard,” she added.

Ouch. But also... fair.

Lessons from a Wonky Picnic Basket

Looking back, it’s painfully obvious just how much I overthought that date. I wanted it to be “perfect” — the kind of memorable that Carolina would gush about to her friends after. But trying to manufacture magic doesn’t work because the best moments are the ones you don’t plan. Like laughing over coffee spills and bright-green guac stains, apparently.

Here’s what I learned (and what I hope you take to heart):

  • Don’t put pressure on perfection. Connection > choreography. Sure, you can have a plan, but leave room to breathe. It’s okay if the sandwiches get smushed or if a bird decides to cameo mid-date.

  • Be authentically you. Carolina didn’t care about the imported cheese or the curated playlist (though let’s admit: Alicia Keys still slaps). What won her over was us being able to laugh through the fiasco together. Vulnerability beats “put-together” in the long run.

  • Simplify and show up. I could’ve swapped the whole charcuterie circus for two smoothies on a bench overlooking the water, and it would’ve been just as meaningful. Sometimes we complicate things trying to impress someone, but showing up with genuine intention? That’s always enough.

  • Roll with the punches. Something will always go wrong. Whether it’s ants at a picnic or tripping over your own salsa moves, expecting imperfection turns those moments into memories rather than mishaps.

The Punchline: Guac Get Used to It

Carolina and I never made it to a “perfect” date (whatever that means), but somehow, the imperfect ones sealed the deal. That picnic debacle turned into an inside joke that we still crack up about now. Spoiler: she eventually became my wife.

Sometimes, we’ll pack a thermos of coffee and head to the same park. I’ve learned to lock the lid, but neither of us minds when the lazy Florida sun inevitably melts the cheese. After all, who needs perfect when you’ve got laughter, love, and enough bug spray to ward off an entire colony?

So, next time you’re sweating over making a date flawless, breathe. Relax. Let things happen naturally. The person worth your time isn’t focusing on what goes wrong—just how you handle it together.

And hey, if a little guac ends up on their outfit? Consider it a good omen.