Porto is a truly enchanting city. With its nostalgic architecture and the most radiant light, you can feel like they have stepped into a cliché film from the 1960s. As you walk through its narrow streets and encounter the juxtaposition of abundant natural beauty against sturdy stonewalls, believing that love may be just around the corner becomes possible.

The riverside restaurants, regional wines, and melancholic music contribute to the perfect rendezvous. You can easily lose yourself in the city, believing that someone will cross your path and reveal that your story has been shaped to find them.

After a while, I got tired of living in a fantasy I had created. Perhaps it was the effect of winter, the Christmas lights, or my pathological delusions. Everything seemed to convince me that I was finally nearing the moment of encountering my ideal partner. Of course, none of this happened, and I had to force myself to go through the grieving process for things I had never experienced.

Little is said about it, but a delicate process exists of detaching yourself from imaginary stories. The narrative is filled with expectations that took days to create and nurture – a cloud of fantasies that become your favourite place. There, one has space to live through perfect situations, articulate conversations, and believe in a hopeful future. When something larger pulls you back to reality, you must face the process of bidding farewell to unreal dreams and paths.

Returning to reality can be painful. Things appear less alluring and more complicated. However, bringing your consciousness back to the present can be much more surprising than residing solely in your mind.

After a week filled with various realisations, I decided to break free from my comfort zone and dive into the unknown. I felt like a weight had been lifted off my shoulders, and I was prepared to face whatever the days would bring. It did not take long for the chance to work in favour of my decision. A travel acquaintance I barely knew but had formed a deep connection with invited me to meet her while she was on vacation in Porto.

People were in a festive mood as it was a holiday, and the places were bustling. Giovanni, my companion in this adventure, agreed to join me and to the bar near Cordoaria Square, where I would meet my other friend.

At first glance, Embassy Bar may seem small and uninviting, with all the tables outside and the challenge of enjoying a beer in the cold winter wind. However, if one is perceptive enough, they will discover a hidden staircase on the left side at the back of the venue, leading to the second floor, where the bar takes on a completely different atmosphere, playing music that you would believe only exists on your curated playlists.

In my attempt to find someone I hadn’t seen in months, I sent a message and quickly realised she wasn’t alone. Standing at a table surrounded by men, she approached me. Initially, I felt intimidated by the possibility of discussing football and the Roman Empire all night. But as the conversation shifted towards travel and experiences, I realised I better understood the male universe than I had previously thought.

After a few glasses of caipirinha and shots, the desire to go dancing grew more, but it seemed that only Giovanni and I had the energy and time to extend the night. Since most of the people there were passing through Porto.

Without worrying about the result but rather focusing on the present moment, I decided to follow my instincts and to go to a nightclub, with or without the group. What I didn’t expect was that my power of persuasion was stronger than I had imagined. Even those who had left returned to join us.

As we crossed the streets towards Plano B, one of Porto’s most eclectic and beautiful nightclubs, I found myself relaxed enough to approach the guy with whom I had spoken the least while we were at the bar. With his laid-back smile and the small lines around his eyes, we quickly connected as we entered the club.

After tequila and a few minutes of the DJ’s set playing techno music in the main hall, the islander approached me and steered my night in a different direction. At that moment, the past ceased to exist, and I ceased to care about the future. I could stop counting the hours for the first time in a long while.

Running in the rain, getting into a taxi, and touching reality, I encountered what I had been avoiding. It could be attributed to luck or the law of attraction, but waking up the next day with a hangover reminded me of the perks and pleasures of being alive.

The rest of the day proved more challenging, as I had to work, and my body no longer responded as it did five years ago. Nevertheless, even though I had to face the day knowing it would not be easy, I noticed that I was content with what I was, more than I thought I could ever be.

A.M.