Chapter 1: The Unexpected Encounter

"Are you a nun?" This intriguing question was posed to me by a man last week.

It left me pondering: Am I really becoming a nun? My friend K. suggests that at this stage in life, we should embrace nearly every opportunity that comes our way. After all, at 56, the chances for romance aren’t exactly abundant, and they’re unlikely to increase as time goes on. If I still possess any desire for intimacy, perhaps I should heed her advice.

But maybe I really am a "monja" (nun). This man’s question echoed in my mind as I sat in a cafe in Morelia, Mexico, sipping my cappuccino and watching a group of boys play around a large stone fountain. I wasn’t admiring them in any romantic sense; rather, I found their youthful energy delightful, especially as the morning sun illuminated their branded apparel. The serene fountain and the gentle pine tree swaying nearby added to the charm.

As I glanced up, a man passed by and our eyes briefly connected. He stepped into the cafe, approached my corner seat, and introduced himself as Juan. We exchanged names and shook hands.

"You are beautiful," he said. "Where are you from?"

Flattered, I responded, "California."

We struck up a conversation, and he revealed he was a photographer, showing me impressive photos he’d taken—snowy landscapes in Alaska, picturesque streets of Morelia, and a crescent moon captured just nights before. His English wasn’t perfect, but it was certainly better than my Spanish. We communicated in a mix of both languages.

"Ah, you are an artist, like me," he said when I shared my profession as a writer.

As we explored his portfolio, he pointed out a striking image of a woman in a yoga pose. "I am also a Kundalini yoga instructor," he added casually.

"Would you like to join me for a coffee?" I offered, gesturing to the empty seat beside me. However, he mentioned he had a meeting to attend.

As our conversation progressed, he became a bit too physical, touching my shoulder and even my thigh. Then, he boldly stated he found me very attractive and wished to spend the night with me. I laughed at his directness—what else was there to do?

"You know," he continued earnestly, "the chakra activated by sex is essential for creativity and for artists."

He seemed intelligent and successful, albeit a bit eccentric. When I pointed out his unusual approach, he quipped, "Don’t you know that all real artists are crazy?"

His words struck a chord. I realized I could probably afford to be a bit wilder myself.

He proposed taking me to a great restaurant, something that piqued my interest since I had been on the hunt for authentic Michoacan cuisine without much luck. He inquired about my hotel and offered to pick me up in his "Lincoln." We agreed to meet at 6 p.m. in front of the cathedral.

As he prepared to leave, he insisted on a hug. I hesitated—not because I dislike hugging, but I felt it inappropriate for a stranger to embrace me so soon in a public place. I declined, and with a playful tone, he exclaimed, "Que! Eres monja?" (What! Are you a nun?)

I played along, responding, "Yes, I’m a nun," and called him "Father."

Reflecting on why I entertained his increasingly outrageous behavior could fill another essay. Part of it was his compliment, recognizing my presence, something that doesn’t happen often anymore. Another part stemmed from my loneliness, making me susceptible to attention. He was an artist, quirky yet amusing, and I admired his boldness, even as I grew weary of his antics.

When I left the cafe, I was torn about our evening plans. I wished he had been more subtle and considerate; his enthusiasm bordered on overwhelming. Yet, his audacity intrigued me enough to consider the meeting.

He didn’t seem dangerous, just eccentric. His directness was refreshing amidst a world where many have closed off their emotions as they age.

As I pondered this, he unexpectedly emerged from the cafe and embraced me at the corner, catching me off guard. "I want to take you to the palace next door!" he insisted, trying to lead me down the street. I explained I had an interview and couldn't join him. "OK, see you tonight!" he said before disappearing.

I felt flustered and a bit let down. He had crossed a boundary, and my chances of meeting him later dwindled from 60–40 to a mere 15–85.

The reality of what I wanted versus what was likely to happen felt starkly different. He clearly desired a quick connection, whereas I was more interested in discussing art and cuisine or truly getting to know him.

I realized my best-case scenario would involve listening to his flattery while attempting to steer the conversation toward more meaningful topics. Despite his intensity, he was close to winning me over. If only he had been a bit more graceful, a bit more refined, he might have secured a date.

Yet, his question hung heavy in the air: Am I a nun?

I clearly am not, and it was rather rude for him to say so. I could have retorted with, "Are you a jerk?" But he accurately sensed I was inclined to decline. I keep asserting that I want to meet someone in real life rather than through dating apps, yet when opportunities arise, I often find reasons to retreat.

In this instance, my hesitation seemed justified. However, I recognize that I need to be more open to possibilities. Yes, yes, yes. I must stop seeking escape routes and embrace new experiences. What do I truly have to lose?

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Chapter 2: Embracing Uncertainty

In the first video titled "Are you a nun? people mocking me," the speaker discusses the unexpected interactions and questions that arise in dating scenarios, reflecting on societal perceptions of women as they age.

The second video, "ARE YOU A NUN?!", further delves into the humorous yet poignant experiences of women navigating the complexities of attraction and self-identity.