Lessons I Wish I Knew Earlier

The Myth of Effortless Love: Spoiler Alert, It’s a Trap

I grew up on a steady diet of telenovelas, where love swept in like a dramatic gust of wind through an open window. Everything happened fast—stolen glances, earth-shattering smooches, and a perfect wedding finale, all within 120 episodes or less. It wasn’t until much later that I realized these stories—and Hollywood rom-coms, for that matter—forgot to show one crucial thing: the messy, unsexy work behind real connection.

I wish someone had told me this earlier: Brooding chemistry and spontaneous grand gestures are great for TV, but in real life? Love is built, not discovered. It takes patience, communication, and the occasional awkward conversation where you mispronounce a word and then spiral into thinking this person will find you "too much." (Spoiler: They won’t.)

So, here’s a hard-earned truth: Love is never about finding someone who “completes you.” My neighbor Tía Margarita always said, “Estás completa, m’hija. Now just find someone to share the shift at the karaoke mic.”

Stop Chasing the Imaginary Ideal

Ah, the mythical “perfect partner.” They’re accomplished yet humble, passionate but easygoing, driven but sensitive. Oh, and they never leave dishes in the sink, ever. Let me tell you right now: They do not exist. That fantasy person you’re chasing? It’s an airbrushed mirage created by social media, romantic novels, and those subway ads with glowing, symmetrical couples sharing smoothies.

I used to have this incredibly detailed list of what my ideal partner would look like. (Literally—there was a chart. It was color-coded.) But in my thirties, a heart-to-heart with my best friend made me realize something: My “checklist” wasn’t just unrealistic—it was limiting. Instead of hyper-focusing on whether someone met all my magical criteria, I started paying attention to how people made me feel. Were they curious about my love for Gabriela Mistral’s poetry? Did they notice when I was feeling off and bring me tea without me asking?

Real people have quirks and flaws. Love often thrives in the places where imperfection meets kindness. Forget statuesque ideals and start celebrating crooked smiles, the way they mispronounce “croissant,” and their (very human) struggle to parallel park.

Communication Is Sexy, Actually

If someone had told me in my twenties that talking—not flowers, not grand romantic surprises—would be the secret sauce to a great relationship, I likely would’ve scoffed and said something dramatic about “losing the magic.” But you know what’s magic? Listening to someone express their feelings with total honesty and feeling safe enough to do the same.

People often see vulnerability as some kind of emotional stripping-down that leaves us exposed and raw, but vulnerability is more than a dramatic reveal. It’s in the little things: admitting you’re hurt instead of acting aloof, sharing your goals without fear of being judged, or even saying, “I actually prefer pizza over sushi” when they’ve been picking sushi every Friday for weeks.

The trick? Communication doesn’t mean “talking a lot.” It means listening actively and being present, not mentally crafting the perfect response while they’re still speaking. Be curious, be kind, and don’t underestimate what a sincere “I hear you” can do, even if you’re discussing something as mundane as whose turn it is to take out the recycling.

Boundaries Are Love’s Skeleton, Not Its Cage

Yikes. I was bad at boundaries when I was younger. I’d cancel plans. I’d bend myself into unfamiliar shapes just to “keep the peace,” convincing myself that compromise and self-sacrifice were badges of honor in relationships. And while flexibility is important, overextending yourself is not the same as love.

Here’s the thing I finally learned the hard way: Boundaries are not about keeping people out. They’re about inviting people to know you better. You’re not a Rubik’s cube to be solved; you’re a map with clear markers that say, “This is who I am. Please tread carefully here because it matters to me.” Whether it’s carving out time for your solo museum visits on Sundays (hello, self-care!) or being honest about your non-negotiables, boundaries don’t make you hard to love—they make it easier for the right person to love you well.

Red Flags Aren’t Décor

Oh, the "fixer-upper" phase. I could write a novela about all the times I ignored glaring red flags because I thought I could paint over them like some kind of HGTV guru. Well, here’s the brutal truth: People are not projects. What you tolerate in the early stages of a relationship often sets the tone for how you’ll be treated later.

For example, if someone “jokes” about how you’re too sensitive when you express discomfort? That’s not playful banter; it’s dismissive. Or they put in zero effort to meet your friends but expect you to adore theirs? That’s called a double standard, my friend. These aren’t charming quirks—they’re warning signs stamped in neon.

Don’t let your desire to see the good in someone make you blind to their behavior. Compromise is part of any healthy relationship, but respect should never be on the bargaining table.

Learn to Like Yourself First

This one’s personal because it took me years—and several tear-stained journals—to figure out. There’s no shortcut around it: If you’re not comfortable in your own company, it’s hard to show up authentically for someone else. Back in my twenties, I filled my schedule with dates and social events because the noise drowned out the thought I was too afraid to face: I didn’t like who I was when I was alone.

So, here’s what I wish I grasped sooner: The foundation for any strong relationship is learning how to be okay with silence—your own silence. I started small. I took solo lunches in sunny plazas and explored Madrid with a book of Neruda poems tucked under my arm. I found joy in unexpected places, like trying new recipes (some successes, many not) or learning to play a clumsy rendition of “Gracias a la Vida” on the guitar I borrowed from my cousin. Slowly but surely, I realized I wasn’t alone. I had me—and I wasn’t the bad company I once thought I might be.

A partner should complement your life, not complete it. If you expect someone else to carry the full weight of your happiness, you’re not building a partnership—you’re building a dependency.

Love That Lasts Is About Choosing

Imagine this: You’re standing in a bakery line in Buenos Aires, staring at dozens of pastries—all delicious in their own way. (This metaphor, I admit, is inspired by my undying love for medialunas.) Love is like that bakery. No matter where you look, there’s always more on the menu. What makes a relationship strong isn't that you can’t see other pastries; it’s that you choose the one you’re holding, over and over again.

Every day in a long-term relationship is a decision. Not a dramatic or forced one, but a steady, quiet commitment to show up. You choose to be kind when you’re tired. You choose patience when life gets chaotic. And you choose honesty, even when it’s hard.

I wish I’d known earlier that love isn’t something you “fall into.” It’s something you build, one imperfect day at a time.

Closing with a Cheers

So, here’s what I hope you take away: You’re not broken, unlovable, or behind some imaginary schedule. Relationships are a winding dance that require grace, humor, and a willingness to trip over each other’s feet. Be kind to yourself. Learn your rhythms. And when the right partner comes along, they’ll join in singing your song—crooked karaoke notes and all.

And if they don’t? Baby, sing louder. The world deserves to hear your brilliance.