"Do you know what your problem is? You eat like a prisoner." That’s what my best friend Clara told me years ago over a plate of vaca frita at a little Cuban spot in Hialeah. I didn’t realize it at the time, but that offhand comment would save me—not just from the dry sadness of singlehood but from a pattern of self-sabotage that had crept into every corner of my life.

Fun fact: prisoners apparently shovel food into their mouths as though the warden will snatch it away at any moment. And yeah, that was me, minus the jumpsuit. Not just with food, either—with people, interests, and even relationships. I’d dive in headfirst, no brakes, leaving chaos (and occasionally some unreturned Tupperware) in my wake. The habit that saved me wasn’t some fancy mantra or a 12-step workbook; it was learning to slow down.

The Problem: Full Tilt Until Empty

Growing up in a bustling Cuban bakery, “slow down” wasn’t exactly part of the family vocabulary. Mornings were cafecito-fueled chaos—oven timers beeping, my dad calling everyone “mi amor” like he was auditioning for telenovelas, and my mom miraculously remembering the life story of every customer in line. Hialeah runs on connection and café con leche, but it also runs hot. Pacing myself just didn’t compute.

So, by the time I hit my mid-20s, I treated everything—romantic relationships included—like a sprint. In dating, I spoke in paragraphs while my dates volleyed back sentences. I followed up on texting lulls way too eagerly. Oh, you knit sweaters for cats? Let me buy yarn as a romantic gesture and maybe look into starting a side hustle for feline couture. (I wasn’t joking. But I should’ve been.)

People would quietly pump the brakes, trying to create space, but I’d mash the gas harder. And when my fast-and-furious approach inevitably led to disappointment, you know what I told myself? “This is just how I love. At least I’m giving it my all.” Here’s a secret: giving it your “all” doesn’t work when you have zero gas left for yourself.

The Wake-Up Call: When Salsa Dancing Goes Literal

The lightbulb moment came during a salsa night at this unassuming club in Little Havana. My date at the time—let’s call him Jorge—was teaching me the basic steps. Everything was fine until I noticed the rhythm slipping away. One moment we were dancing; the next, I was hopping around like I'd been electrocuted.

Jorge looked at me, mildly amused but mostly concerned. "Raúl," he said, "you’re not letting me lead." Which, fair. My control issues were doing pirouettes out there. “You’re overthinking. The music tells you when to move. Just—breathe.” And then it hit me: he wasn’t just talking about the dance floor.

The Change: Pause, Then Proceed

Jorge didn’t last—poor guy really tried—but his words did. The next morning, I poured myself a cup of café con leche and sat in silence, no phone, no distractions. For two whole minutes, I simply existed. You’d think I went off to a monastery the way I bragged about this to Clara later. She rolled her eyes, handed me some pastelitos, and said, “That’s great, but let’s not act like you discovered fire.”

It wasn’t about fire, though; it was about tempo. I found that pausing—being fully present in a moment—seeped into every part of my life. Relationships, friendships, even ordering at the bakery where I used to rattle off my request like I was late for the lottery. It was this tiny shift, this new micro-habit of slowing down, that allowed me to actually absorb life instead of treating it like a checklist.

Here’s what learning to pause taught me about relationships.

Lessons in Slowing Down

1. Stop Treating Love Like a Test You Need to Ace
Ever notice how first dates can feel like job interviews? I used to pepper people with rapid-fire questions, like I needed to uncover everything about them in one go. But slowing down taught me to let conversations breathe. Instead of trying to “earn” someone’s affection through perfect answers or gestures, I learned to simply share space with them. Trust me, the best connections grow organically—like my mom’s sourdough starter—with enough time and patience.

2. Eager Doesn’t Equal Available
Have you ever responded to a text so quickly that your own triple-dot bubble pops up before the other person even finishes typing? Guilty. And spoiler: it never made anyone stay. Slowing down reminded me that availability shouldn’t mean sacrificing my boundaries. If you’re always at someone’s beck and call, it’s not romantic—it’s exhausting. Time apart to recharge just deepens what you bring to the table.

3. Small Moments Are the Big Ones
One of the coolest things about dialing it back was realizing how much I overlooked. Holding a hand just a little longer, hearing the smile in someone’s voice when they tell a story—these are the parts you miss when you’re barreling ahead like speed dating is an Olympic sport. When you slow down, it’s like switching to HD; everything sharpens.

Everyday Practices to Help You Pause

Baby steps, my friend. Here’s what worked for me:

  • The 24-Hour Rule: Before you send that over-the-top “thinking of you” text, give yourself a full day to marinate on it. Is it genuine or just an impulse?
  • Eat Without Multitasking: Meal prep is great, but it’s not a race. Sit somewhere quiet, chew mindfully, and pay attention to the taste (bonus points if it involves Cuban pastry).
  • No Phone Zones: Dedicate spaces or times—like your bedroom or the first 10 minutes of morning coffee—as phone-free zones. You’ll be shocked at the clarity this brings.
  • Walks Without Headphones: It sounds aggressively Zen, I know, but I dare you. Look around. Notice the way people interact. Humor abounds if you’re paying attention.

The Payoff: Soulful Connections

With practice, slowing down gave me more than romantic clarity—it reconnected me to myself. When I stopped racing to the finish line, I found joy in places I’d ignored: the cadence of an old salsa song, the smell of rain on Hialeah sidewalks, the pause before a loved one says, “I love you.”

If there’s one takeaway, it’s this: the person who truly wants to be in your life will never demand you run faster than you’re capable of. So take a breath. Pause. Relish each step of your journey—relationships are built in the beats between the big moments.

Who knows? Slowing down might just save you too. Even if the first thing it saves is your appetite.