There’s a well-worn story every Cuban abuela tells at least once, usually while stirring a pot of frijoles negros and pausing dramatically to emphasize the weight of her words: “El amor verdadero, mijo, te encuentra a ti. No hay que buscarlo.” True love finds you; you don't have to look for it.

When I first heard this (probably around the age of 10, likely while sneaking extra croquetas from the bakery counter), I nodded solemnly. It made sense. Cuban telenovelas were practically a training manual on the subject. The girl always bumped into her soulmate while dropping a basket of guavas or spilling a café con leche. Sparks would fly. Cue the swelling violin music.

For years, I believed romance was something like gravity—a force of nature that just pulled you toward someone. You were destined. Fate wasn’t Netflix-queue compatible either: you didn't need to "put yourself out there" or “work on yourself” for love. Love was a cosmic delivery service, and your only job was to hang the "I'm home" sign on your corazón-shaped door.

But here’s the thing about myths: the more you live with them, the harder they crumble. So, grab a cafecito as I unpack how my family’s love-finds-you myth unraveled—and what it taught me about modern relationships instead.

The Myth in Action: Love Will Just… Happen?

Okay, so here’s the problem with the “love finds you” narrative: real life is messy. It's more "you forgot to defrost the chicken for dinner" than "slow-motion sprint into each other's arms in the rain."

Case in point: When I was 24 and freshly out of college, I had what I can confidently call my year of magical waiting. I was single, working a job I kind of hated, and firmly convinced my life was like a 2000s romantic comedy. Any day now, some dashing woman was going to coincidentally show up at the indie bookstore I didn’t even shop at, spill her overpriced latte on my shirt, and change my life. (Spoiler: She didn’t.)

Instead, I spent a lot of that year eating pastelitos and binge-watching shows where people actually made an effort. And it wasn’t just me waiting for love like it was UPS. I saw this narrative on family road trips during heated reggaeton debates (“Why do Bad Bunny lyrics have to be so thirsty? Where’s the dignity?”). I heard it in my mom's gentle tsk-tsk-ing when a cousin dared to bring up their Bumble woes. The entire premise of “searching” for romance felt borderline shameful, like admitting you bought tamales out of a can.

Truth Hits You Like a Busted Muffler

It didn’t hit me all at once—my dismantling of this myth was accidental and slow, like realizing you can hear the neighbor’s dog through thin apartment walls. But there was a defining moment—or, more precisely, a string of moments.

I was back in Hialeah, working on my first collection of short stories, when my parents sat me down for a conversation about one of their bakery regulars. (Tip: If you’ve ever thought nothing happens in this town, visit the family bakery. It’s South Florida’s version of Twitter for chisme.)

Their story unfolded slowly, in classic telenovela fashion: the “regular” was actually the cousin of a relative’s long-lost neighbor who fell for someone he met on (gasp) a dating app. I know—you’re probably thinking, Raúl, this isn’t revolutionary! But to me, it felt like someone had just yelled "CUT!" in the middle of my internal rom-com. Here was a real person—from an actual Cuban family—essentially throwing the “true love finds you” mantra into the recycling bin.

The kicker? They weren’t just making it work—they were thriving. All of this got me thinking, If love doesn’t magically find you, why are we still talking like it does?

Love Isn't a Fever; It's a Garden

The myth of effortless love makes romance sound like an illness: something you catch out of nowhere because you happened to cross paths with a mysterious stranger. But, in my experience, healthy relationships are more about intention than accident. It’s not that love sprouts fully grown—you plant the metaphorical seed and decide to care for it, weeds and all.

Here’s what I learned dismantling my family’s myth:

  1. Effort Isn’t Desperation. Yes, my abuela said that chasing love isn’t necessary—but her words don’t mean you’re desperate if you invest in your relationships. Whether it's swiping, flirting, or deep, unsexy conversations about boundaries, love thrives on mutual effort. Even the most meet-cute couples will tell you: they worked on their connection. Netflix montages leave that part out.

  2. Meet-Cutes Don’t Guarantee Longevity. If the bakery myth ever scored a tagline, it might’ve been, “If it’s meant to be, it’ll work no matter what.” But that thinking often leads to ignoring red flags (because destiny, right?). Compatibility doesn’t just happen—it’s built. It requires conversations, compromise, and yes, moments where one person apologizes for forgetting to refill the Brita filter. Glamorous? No. Honest? Absolutely.

  3. Community Shapes Your Love Stories. Here’s the thing: even if “love finds you,” cultural narratives shape how we prioritize relationships. My parents found each other through sheer happenstance—but they stayed together because they leaned on the pillars of comunidad, family, and faith in meaningful ways. Today, when I think about building relationship foundations, I tap into those values (regular croqueta dates don’t hurt, either).

Letting Your Story Evolve

Am I telling you to call your abuela and tell her she’s wrong? Absolutely not. (Unless you want a speech on how Millennials ruined courtship.) But next time she takes a romanticized view of love, maybe you can take a moment to reflect on the real work behind successful relationships. Myth or no myth, romance isn’t about sitting idle waiting for fate—it’s about showing up, being present, and embracing your own path, whether it looks like a rom-com or not.

At this point in life, I wouldn’t trade the lessons I’ve unlearned for anything. The myth of “effortless love” sometimes gets one thing right: surprises happen. Unexpected sparks—and delightful flirty moments in bakery lines—are still part of the fun. The difference is now I trust myself to navigate what comes after.

So yeah, abuela, el amor verdadero might find you—but I’m bringing my cafecito just in case it needs a little help. You know. To keep the conversation flowing. ❤️