A 5-Day International Third Date

LEARNING TO TRUST MYSELF ALONG THE WAY

We met at a party, randomly. I had no idea whose birthday I was attending just simply agreed and arrived in red Aquazzura stilettos to greet birthday girl, only to learn she was turning 23. The homeowner builds amusement parks and the house was high above Barton Creek, multileveled and entertaining: complete with fire pit, pickle ball courts, and pool filled with floaties. Jello shots were passed around to wash down Domino’s and salt + vinegar potato chips. We’ll call him Ted Lasso, mustached + shameless, he was at the party costumed in tennis whites, without reason. Funny. We spoke for a while and at some point he kissed me, Justin Bieber blasting in the background of the third floor man cave equipped with a fridge full of  beer and whipped cream. Shortly thereafter, I scurried out early because intimacy post "awakening"  scares me. And as I drove home that night I asked the full moon aloud to “Open my heart please!!” Nothing to do with him, just a personal intention, a conversation between the moon + me. 

The Austin dating scene is weird but I love that guys here love activities. Rarely is a first date just “drinks.” I cancelled only once previously but second try, arrived promptly — 5pm yoga, cocktails and the tastiest brisket tacos.  I like early evenings but that night time kept slipping and albeit against my rules, he ended up coming home with me. We sat and smoked cigars on my balcony, laughing. At midnight I woke up to him snoring on my living room floor, innocently. I’m not up for physical intimacy — foreign parts or hands touching me, before getting to know each other emotionally. I kicked him out and went back to sleep. A day or so passed before our next meeting, hours long and full of spontaneity: hike, pickle ball vineyard, live jazz, steak and martinis.

The following eve, “What are you doing this weekend?” he texted me, nearly ten days after meeting. “Having dinner with girlfriends Friday, but around Saturday!” I replied. “You?” “Was thinking about going away for the long weekend. Join me?”  "Haha, what do you have in mind?” I said, sheepishly. I’m not huge on impromptu vacation early in the game post a whirlwind three days in Sonoma three years prior for a third date.“There’s this little hotel I’ve been wanting to visit in Todos Los Santos.” It sounded far, foreign and immediately piqued my anxiety.“Mexico? Hmm, sounds fun.” I replied, big time faking my “cool-girl” energy. 

Fast forward nearly a week after returning from a five day international retreat in one of the most magical places I’ve ever seen, Hotel San Cristobal. Google and go, although the decision wasn’t that simple for me. When risk appears, I often seek outside for reassuring, full well knowing that asking the counsel further complicates everything.
 “Wow, that’s really remote.” //  “How well do you know him?”  // “Have you seen Clickbait?”
After breath work and too many opinions weighing on me, still contemplating, I flippantly agreed, clear that at any time (two days) prior, I could change my mind. When confusion or anxiety overcome me, I like to locate the root of my fear physically. My most vivid Mexico memory was Acapulco Spring Break, which left remnants of fear lodged in my belly, lingering visions of the time my roommate and I returned to the hotel late night to a naked man in our hallway. We locked the door behind us safely only to the shock of him breaking through it with a fire extinguisher, exploding all over us and our things. The hotel ignored our report, so we decided to leave, but en route to the airport the driver stopped abruptly to pay off the police. Considering my traumatic history, trust doesn’t come easily. And Mexico scared me, particularly a five day date so early in the game. Feel the fear and do it anyway? That depends — but in this case, I leaned into discomfort and took the leap.  We booked it 48 hours prior to leaving — a 7AM flight Labor Day weekend, only to arrive at the airport needing to negotiate our way through security. With a few favors from gentle strangers we boarded safely and spent the entirety of two flights getting further acquainted. 

We arrived in Mexico bright eyed, hopped in the rented Wrangler and began our impromptu five day adventure. Was I nervous? Yes! I’m really good with routine, eat clean, wake up early, move my body — and yet am way less rigid than I used to be. And I knew that if at any moment something startled me, I would both speak my mind and just leave in emergency. It’s incredibly empowering to trust myself knowingly, and honor my feelings without fear of people pleasing. Nerves aside, I was ready and with well paired company. 

45 minutes north of Cabo, Todos Los Santos is a little town with little shops, taco stops, and more butterflies than I’ve ever seen, the only problem being that they crash and burn kamikaze on the front windshield while driving, and boy was he driving hurriedly. Lucky for him the speedometer was in kilometers, but I still shamelessly requested more than once he take it easy.  En route we stopped at the Pharmacie, vaxxed and Covid free but plagued with a cold, an excuse I considered using before leaving that morning. Equipped with “La Gripe” medicina OTC and Mexican candy to keep me busy, we soon arrived to the beautiful bougainvillea lined property at the end of a long dirt road that would later come in handy. Hotel San Cristobal is pristine, perched right on the beach overlooking mountainous cliffs, with views more picturesque than I’ve ever seen. Each morning at sunrise small fishing boats towed from shore out deep to procure fresh catch while locals play on the adjacent beach, emphasizing the stratified tourism based economy. But there was nothing overly pretentious about the property, just a small treasure opposite ruins of a deserted cannery, at the base of a hike both leading up to a mountainous peak and down to the beach. We hiked both obviously. 

The hotel itself is 32-rooms but only operating at half capacity. The aforementioned dirt road gave way for my infectious morning post decaf energy. Lasso isn’t a runner but he accompanied me and when he didn’t want to run any longer, he followed behind me in the jeep. You can never be too safe in Mexico, and I am still mildly ailed by my PTSD and too much Netflix cartel TV. But I felt safe entirely, which took deep trusting after working thru every potential scenario mentally, even that of him selling me into slavery. Yep, extreme! Have you met me? Suffice it to say my imagination sometimes runs away from me. Learning self trust is a really new thing, and trusting others will forever be a long term strategy. Not once did I feel discomfort though, his energy and mine both felt close to home. 

We spent four days creating a new routine: morning sweat sessions followed by leisure or activity. We laid pool side eating fresh ceviche and guacamole. Feasting on the fruits of the fishing boats labor— tender sashimi with roasted jalapeño sumac and olive oil, drowned with local beers Bohemia and Victoria. We were up and out by 8:30 daily, although I could have lingered longer over my coffee. Each morning I took some solo space, early riser, poolside, my introvert requiring a bit of me time before emerging. The days passed not slow or even fast, just on time, our continued conversation the through line, enjoying exploration, activity and each other simultaneously — lounging around either interlaced or clam shaped, asking questions, ping pong debating and contemplating, a Taurus and Leo with shared moons in Cancer both stubborn and sensitive, learning each others patterns, laughing and listening. 

The property was a bit “White Lotus-y” and we were amused by creating stories about the other couples’ visiting. Our MVP was a Ted Cruz doppelgänger and his wife Julie — big Texas energy, introducing himself poolside by recommending an off menu cocktail with an unpronounceable name, instead calling it Mezcal “Alla Bee Caves.”  The Austin, TX reference, sparked our attention, as did his F-250 sized personality.

We spent very few moments separately except for day four, one day prior to departing. The rebellious, wild child, less thoughtful side of me thought it might be fun to bring extra mushrooms I’d been saving from my previous psychedelic assisted therapies. In past, dosage has been too high for me, so I doggie bag my extra caplets home with me, acquiring a little pile for safe keeping. I’ve mentioned that I don’t do drugs recreationally, that the plant medicine called me when I was ready, so why did I think that tripping in Mexico would land differently? 

Ted Lasso knows I’ve spent the past year digging into my psyche, that psychedelic therapy saved me, but I hadn’t yet shared the depth of my “what happened to me” because my stories don’t define me and its not how I lead. Really though, I didn’t think it’d be risky to to eat some magic mushrooms on vacation — and only a 1/4 of what I take typically. So we clinked Topo Chicos at 11a Monday, exactly one year after my first medicine journey and within 30 minutes my world changed severely. Mushrooms are very sensory, which is why therapy is conducted in a controlled setting. Once the medicine hit, my senses awakened: the tropical views and music by the pool were quickly ruined by the impromptu lawn mowing. This medicine is a tool I use to go “inward” and I really should have excused myself up to the room once I realized planned “fun” would become suffering. Nothing about this was fun for me. My date was supportive, and when he saw my day turn dark quickly, he gave me the space I needed. Consider all my experiences have been in dark rooms, eye mask on, therapist watching — so a poolside situation surrounded by strangers was actually quite scary. My mind immediately began revisiting painful memories as I laid fetal position in my bikini trying to navigate what my subconscious was telling me. Hotel guests sipped margaritas nearby, unknowingly, their summer reads far lighter than my inner tormenting. My stomach started churning. Mushrooms make me queasy. But people take fucking mushrooms and trip all the time --  at concerts, Burning Man, house parties!! Olivia Why Can't You Be Normal? Alas, normalcy is NOT me, and neither is using psychedelics recreationally. 

Hours passed and the high softened before wearing off entirely, so gripping at one point that I texted a friend panicking, just hours after telling her how much fun I was having. But as I sobered up, I realized the mushrooms were just providing information for safekeeping, demanding deeper self inquiry, which is what I’m here for — undoubtedly. But the minor dose was still far too much for my body. And yet, no regret, my journey actually opened up even deeper conversation regarding intimacy. Darkness became gratitude for my newfound trust in me. After fish tacos, I was back in the pool enraptured in his arms staring at the end of the property, the sun illuminating the cloudless sky, cliffside, the backdrop for birds swooping by and the colorful fishing boats docked in scattered rows sweetened by the sound of kids playing nearby. He felt the mushrooms only mildly and more than anything was relieved that my rollercoaster ride was ending. “Do you know how many times over the past few hours I’ve wanted to cry?” I said. “You can cry, anytime,” he replied. Our bodies submerged in warm chlorine, him behind me, standing up but spooning -- my waterfall tears began flowing generously. 

In that moment, I realized the meaning of the entire  journey and unabashedly shared while he held me,
“I’m realizing that as much as I’ve softened, I still have a very hard time trusting. That over my entire lifetime, I haven’t been able to trust anybody. Be it those I’ve loved who weren’t able to protect me, or those who knowingly violated me that should have been trustworthy. But I’m finally understanding that regardless, I have me, and trust myself more and more wholeheartedly. That this — is all up to me, and as I trust myself, l can start letting others in slowly.”
The water crashed the rocky shores with Fantasia like choreography, waves letting in and leaving, parallel to my patterning of leaning in before running.“This is when I’d probably run away,” I said to him later that eve. “This is fun but my conditioning has me guarding my heart because it is safer to stay closed off than to open entirely.” Sharing my feelings with a near stranger so openly was really more more vulnerable than I’ve been with anybody. The intensity of the day lingered into our final evening, but neither of us pulled away or retreated into our old stories. Dressed in dress-like lingerie, we left the hotel and dined at Jazamango, a local favorite, feasting on the biggest whole fish I’ve ever seen and a greasy but decadent short rib I ate with my hands, obviously. 

As we ventured home our final day, we separated more than we had the entire vacay. He took work calls while I maneuvered customs and by the time we (barely) made it to the gate, my anxiety was irate, particularly because his bravado refused to wait in line for boarding. I boarded anyway. He was literally the last person on the plane before we left the gate. MEN!!! But he brought me a coffee. ❤️

So--Mexico was fun, to put it mildly. We had a beautiful time in a beautiful place and I didn’t let fear or anxiety get the best of me, embracing my femininity, allowing him to (mostly) lead. I did however insist on buying my plane ticket, in the event that I’d want to prematurely leave. I still hedge myself acutely. But as soon as I let go, everything flowed as it was meant to be. So what’s next? No one ever knows! We’ll have fun until the fun dwindles, I suppose. And if/when the fun ends, I’ll know that there is something more fitting readying for me. Ahh the beauty of impermanence, letting energy dictate everything.

We returned to Austin and I felt grateful above anything for the trip, and my new home -- both Austin and within me, letting self love take the lead because love begins by Trusting me.
I trusted him enough to go. And trusted myself enough to stay, present to enjoy without getting lost in worry. A vacation from reality and any anxiety. What a gift  To just be, entirely. Fully in my feminine, allowing flow to carry me. No resistance, no fight, or ego, taking me out of my integrity.
I often meditate with my favorite teacher davidji, his words resonate entirely, 
"I am whole. 
I trust
I am love
I am."
Yet another strong reminder to find ease thru resistance, #flowthruthefight because #everythingyouneedisinside. 

A Five Day International Third Date -- would you go? Todos Recommendations below. 
Love always, Olivia xx

Pictures and Recommendations, Below.

TODOS Los Santos

Hotel San Cristobal — the best. The food, the hotel, the service, the location, the views. Everything. 
The Green Room— right on the beach, subpar food but lovely views and lively. Think Corona umbrellas and Cocoa Cola brand marketing. Touristy. 
Paradero  — incredible property, newly opened and in need of some organizing. Aguachile: Among the best bites I’ve ever eaten. 
Nomad Chic Boutique  - Very Tulum 
Tacos al Pescadero - taco shop in town 
Pacifico for Fish Tacos 
Oystera at Old Sugar Mill - artisanal cocktails in an art gallery. Let the bartender take the lead.
Dark Bohemia Beer - Yes 
Jazamango  — go before sundown to see the sunset. Order the whole fish. Food was good but heavy.