Volume I: The Night I Threw Up and Was Still Held

Let me set the scene clearly:

When he first saw me, I wasn’t drunk. Maybe one coffee tequila in—buzzed at most.
My friend had started talking to someone, and I didn’t want to be the third wheel, so I gave her space and stepped out onto the balcony.

That’s where he noticed me.

It wasn’t about stumbling or drama or chaos. I was just… there.
And somehow, I felt safe.
That’s the part I want to emphasize.
It was a Portuguese bar, and for the first time in a long time, I didn’t feel like I had to watch my back every second.
I wasn’t on edge. I wasn’t hyper-vigilant.
And because of that, I gave my friend space—a small, natural decision I would never make in a Canadian club.
Especially not with certain men in the room.

I hate to say it, but I’ve seen what happens back home.
Especially within the South Asian community, there’s a kind of waiting—lurking.
Like men circling, timing things just right, watching women drink until they can swoop in and make their move.
It’s not always overt. Sometimes it’s dressed up in charm.
But the predation is there, and I feel it.

Portugal was different.
When I did eventually get sick—when the drinks caught up to me and my body revolted—it wasn’t scandalous.
Strangers handed me water.
He helped me outside, waited with me for our friends.
He gave me his skirt so I wouldn’t be cold.
He held my hand—not to claim me, not to impress—but to comfort.

Earlier, he’d thought I was married—his friend had told him that, by mistake.
So he backed off. Respectfully.
And when I told him the truth—not just that I wasn’t married, but that a Portuguese guy had once cheated on me—his face softened.
He didn’t get smug. He got gentle.

He stayed with me, in that in-between space.
Not quite night, not quite morning.
Not quite strangers, not quite lovers.

I don’t expect to see him again.
He’s not the man I’d marry.
But for one night, I got to feel what it’s like to be cared for in the middle of a mess.
Not cleaned up, not fixed—just seen and held.

And that, in a world where women are so often consumed or ignored, was everything.