After I had tasted Carbonara and consumed two bottles of Pinot Grigio, I could say me and Mateo was very well. He was the kind of person who lived life without worries and seemed always ready for a new adventure. He had a noticeable free and curious spirit. He always shared his desire to explore the world and to allow himself to live each experience that life provided. In addition, I, very aware, knew that I was falling for his charm.

Matteo never sent messages before noon because he was still asleep or had been surfing at Matosinhos Beach. That gave me plenty of space and time to focus on my classes. Whenever I received his notification, I knew that laughter was about to come. It was all very light, and I was always surprised at how much he liked it when I talked about my life experiences, the things I had done and the people I had met. My stories about London intrigued him, and he swore he needed to go to Brazil to understand our reality.

It had been a few weeks since we had been seeing each other, and I couldn’t call that a relationship, but I also didn’t want to see other people. He invited me to have dinner at his place, and I stayed over. Matteo shared an apartment with four other students from different countries. None of them spoke Portuguese; only a few could communicate in English, but they somehow understood each other. The apartment was large and had a vast number of rooms. In addition to being very spacious, it had a balcony with an incredible view where, most of the time, we would spend time together. The only problem was that the engineer had focused too much on the structure of the rooms and had forgotten to design more bathrooms, designating only one toilet for so many residents.

The next day, I woke up at the very last minute. I knew I would be late for class if I didn’t dare to cut in line. I left the room and explained my situation to the Spanish girl, patiently waiting for someone to finish bathing. Marta was a short, blond girl who always talked to me in Spanish. This morning was the first time I had seen her sober and without sunglasses.

When I left the bathroom, she approached me and asked in Spanish:

“Do you want to have breakfast before you leave?”

“Thank you, but I’m running late,” I replied with a broken mix of Portuguese and Spanish.

“Next time, then.” She picked up her necessities from the table and walked towards the bathroom. “How old are you, tía?”

“Twenty-four,” I said quickly as I opened the front door.

“Nice!” She replied while entering the bathroom. I waved to her and closed the door.

I ran down the stairs and walked towards the station as fast as possible to avoid missing the next train. On the way to the university, I wondered why my age was so relevant to Marta. Why did two numbers have so much importance among many other things she could be interested in before 8 a.m.?

Later that day, as usual, Matteo sent a message to meet at Virtudes to see the sunset. Still bothered by the morning episode, I accepted the invitation. However, I knew I couldn’t hide the paranoia, which only grew in my head.

The garden of Virtudes is a square full of bars that offers one of the city’s best views. It doesn’t matter if it’s cold or hot. People are always sitting on the grass talking, listening to music, or enjoying Porto time.

I spotted the guy with blond hair and glassy eyes as I approached. Matteo was accompanied by some friends that I didn’t know. As I got closer, he noticed me and immediately stood up to greet me. As always, he didn’t worry about the presence of others and gave me one of those long kisses that I had to pull away from to avoid creating a dislike for others.

“Aren’t you going to introduce your friends?” I asked with a smile.

“Oh, of course!”

As I was introduced to Matteo’s surf group, my attention went to the style of those who wore band t-shirts, collected piercings in places I didn’t know were possible, and had a smooth face to say that they shaved regularly. I sat down with them, and a bottle of Super Bock was handed to me.

As we drank, Matteo and his friends talked about surf lessons and other things from the university. They started involving me in the conversation by asking where I was from and what I was studying. They were impressed that I had a job before finishing college because they couldn’t wait to make their own money. As the interrogation continued, I realised how few experiences his friends had outside of academic life, which made me increasingly anxious about the episode of age.

The sunset was on the horizon, and Matteo approached to wrap his arm around me, pulling me close to him. I leaned my face on his shoulder and decided to tell him what had happened that morning at his house. He laughed and replied:

“Marta must have been impressed that I am dating an older woman, that’s all.” My heart stopped for milliseconds, and there was no way out; I would have to ask his age.

“Matteo, how old are you?”

“Does that matter?” He said, smiling without taking his eyes off the landscape. I pulled away from him and turned so he could look at me.

“How old?” I repeated.

“I’m turning twenty next month.” I was speechless. I breathed and replied: “This means you are 19?” I paused, but the words continued to come out like an avalanche.

“Is that okay?” He looked at me as if I were crazy. “Take it easy, dear. Everything is under control.” Matteo pulled me back into his arms, but I couldn’t relax. Was I going to let two numbers get in the way of something naturally going well?

On the way back home, I decided I needed a moment alone. Even after much insistence, Matteo gave up accompanying me when he realised I wouldn’t change my mind. I decided to take the most extensive way back home and stopped at Amorino to buy the only thing that could stabilise me again: pistachio gelato. That little cup that perfectly fits two scoops of ice cream can align my chakras and put my head in place.

Walking near Trindade, anyone around could say that I seemed disturbed. After all, my internal dialogue couldn’t find a standard answer. On the one hand, I questioned how I could have gotten involved with someone much younger than me. On the other hand, I tried to free myself from the conservative idea that age was a problem.

Without finding a solution, I arrived home and put on some music. Matteo had sent some messages asking if I was home and hoping the age issue wouldn’t interfere with our conversation. Too late. Without replying, I took a shower, which always helps to clear my mind, but that night, it was impossible to let the worries run away.

The days went by, and I continued to avoid Matteo. I always came up with an excuse not to see him, saying that I was too busy with work and had things to do at the university. After a few attempts, he stopped trying to call me out, which made me realise that the child in this story was me.

On a Friday after work, I found myself on the couch, missing the boy who made me laugh at the most unusual things. I finished my wine glass and got ready. I would try to find him at the place he always went to with friends before the weekend.

When I arrived at Adega Leonor, I walked in among those students, hoping to find him there, but he wasn’t there. I left the bar and started to feel bad. I couldn’t understand why I let external factors become more significant than my feelings. I blamed myself for self-sabotage and for wanting to follow a pattern. I questioned whether if the situation were reversed, me being the 19-year-old girl and him the 24-year-old guy, would all this still be an issue.

I felt a warmth approaching me, and when I turned around, I saw Matteo.

“Looking for me…” I didn’t let him finish talking and kissed him. And he wrapped me in his arms as he always did.

After a few minutes, we let go of each other, and I said:

“I’m sorry, I was an idiot!”

“Agreed.” He replied seriously. “But I understand things aren’t as simple as I wanted them to be.” He smiled. We kissed again.

Matteo and I enjoyed the rest of spring together in the best style, without worries. I put aside all these expectations of a perfect match and allowed myself to live what the moment was giving me. At the end of the semester, Matteo returned to Italy, and we made no promises to see each other. I knew our paths had different directions, and the future held other things. However, he left his mark on me that incredible things can happen if we learn to have more lightness in our daily lives.

A.M.