I once read that you are the sum of the five people you spend the most time with. If that’s true, my “sum” has been heavily influenced by a single person: Nico, my best friend and the human embodiment of chaos disguised as wisdom. Nico didn’t just change my life—he flipped it over, gave it a good shake, and handed it back to me brighter and bolder than I’d ever imagined.
We met in high school, in the middle of a cafeteria debate over who the best Spider-Man was (Tobey Maguire, obviously). Nico didn’t agree, but he admired my conviction. Over the next few years, he turned what was once Raúl, the vaguely awkward kid who read too much José Martí, into a version of me that wasn’t afraid to lean in—whether that meant tackling life with flair or, more importantly (and let’s be honest, terrifyingly), my relationships. He taught me how to take a risk, how to fail loudly, and how to try again unapologetically. But to get into that? Let me tell you about The Lesson.
The Roadtrip of Revelation
Nico’s pièce de résistance in life-changing moments happened about a decade ago. I’d just gone through a bad breakup. The kind where sad songs become personality traits, and suddenly you’re deleting entire playlists because they hit too close to home. Nico showed up at my door unannounced, armed with a tattered Florida map and a cooler full of Cuban pastelitos.
“We’re hitting the road,” he declared, like a manic life coach in flip-flops. “Destination: anywhere-but-this-sad-sack-vibe.”
Somewhere between Hialeah and Key Largo (with an unnecessary detour to see the world’s smallest post office), I cracked. I unloaded every painful detail about the breakup—like how I felt I wasn’t “enough” or how I obsessed over why things went wrong. Nico chewed thoughtfully on a pastelito and then delivered his version of a Ted Talk.
“Everyone’s going to get their heart ripped out at some point,” he said. “Doesn’t mean it wasn’t worth giving it away in the first place. Raúl, you gave that relationship everything, even when it scared you. That’s the real flex—being brave enough to care.”
He was annoyingly right (something I would never say aloud at the time). Nico wasn’t the type to let you wallow for long. He didn’t sugarcoat advice, but his brutal honesty was always wrapped in enough humor to make it bearable. Like ripping off a Band-Aid but with a joke about Pitbull lyrics to soften the blow.
Action Plan: Risk With a Purpose
Nico taught me the art of putting yourself out there, even if it feels like you’re handing over your dignity wrapped in gift paper. Taking risks isn’t just about grand gestures like professing love in the rain (spoiler alert: Florida rain is more likely to knock you out than look romantic). It’s the little things:
- Say the thing you’re afraid to say. Whether it’s “Hey, I like you” or a simple “This isn’t working,” honesty keeps connections real. Sure, it’s scary, but so is going on a roller coaster, and at least here you won’t lose your watch.
- Be the one to show up. After the road trip, Nico reminded me that healthy relationships (romantic or not) are built on effort. It’s not always about 50/50. Sometimes, you carry someone for a bit, and sometimes, they carry you.
- Fail in style. One of Nico’s favorite sayings is, “If you fall, at least fall interestingly.” Put another way, embarrassment is temporary. Regret over not trying lingers.
What Nico’s Lessons Taught Me About Real Connection
The bold revelation Nico delivered that weekend had less to do with my breakup and more to do with how I viewed myself. For years after, every time I hesitated to speak up or take a chance, I’d channel my inner Nico. How could I self-sabotage when his voice still echoed in my head with the blunt force of a guitar riff?
To this day, it’s the philosophy I carry into every relationship—romantic or not. Modern dating feels like dodging potholes on I-95: exhausting and constant. But the antidote isn’t pulling over and watching everyone else connect. It’s about putting your foot on the gas (okay, responsibly) and steering toward the things and people that matter.
Nico gave me a blueprint:
- Be fearless but not reckless. To Nico, taking risks wasn’t about purposely aiming for failure. It was about trying, especially when you want something real. And when you’re grown enough to admit what you want? That’s magnetic.
- Find someone who adds to your playlist. If they can laugh with you, cry with you, and argue about Spider-Man rankings? That’s a keeper. Relationships aren’t there to fix you, but they should complement the soundtrack of your life, as Nico would say while DJing.
- Know when it’s time to walk away. Nico believed in keeping things real, and if something doesn’t align with who you are or your goals, it’s not an L to leave. It’s clarity, disguised as bittersweet freedom.
Flaws, Fallout, and Forgiveness
Was Nico perfect? Absolutely not. He once tried to wingman me at a wedding by announcing to the bride’s cousin that I was “The Frida Kahlo of writing,” which… didn’t work. But Nico’s imperfections were another lesson: Your “person” doesn’t have to have it all together, and neither do you. Life isn’t Pinterest-perfect (have you seen Miami traffic?). What matters in relationships—romantic or platonic—is authenticity.
How You Can Be That Friend
Nico didn’t just change my life by being himself; he taught me how to show up better for others. If you want to build better connections, try a little more Nico:
- Get uncomfortable together. Vulnerability breeds real connection. Even if it feels like emotional karaoke, belt it out.
- Speak life into your people. Be the one who reminds your friends just how epic they are, even when they don’t see it for themselves.
- Throw in some adventure. Take the road trip. Be the friend who adds spontaneity to the mix, whether that’s a beach sunset or a midnight Walmart run for no reason at all.
Conclusion: The Recipe for Connection
Nico taught me that relationships—romantic or not—are never about perfection. They’re built through boldness, effort, failure, and (yes) a little Cuban pastry like fuel along the way. As far as friends go, Nico was my game-changer. He set the bar high but left me knowing one thing for certain: When you risk the messiness of connection, that’s where the magic happens.
