The Life-Changing Conversation That Changed the Trajectory of My Life
A long time ago, I went on a date with a handsome Spaniard.
We sat across from each other, and when I asked him about himself, he didn’t give me small talk.
He gave me a life — unfurling right there between us.
He told me about growing up in the Canary Islands, moving to mainland Spain, then London, Angola, South Africa.
He’d been in bands, waited tables, learned different languages. Learned to fly.
Earned degrees and was now studying for his doctorate.
His life was a patchwork of adventure, risk, and curiosity — each story vivid, each choice deliberate, and honestly, kind of cinematic.
Meanwhile, I was just trying to remember the last time I’d updated my passport.
I remember feeling lit up as I listened.
It wasn’t just what he had done — it was how he had lived.
His stories weren’t accidents.
They were the result of saying yes to life. Of following what pulled at him.
Of stepping into the unknown over and over — and somehow not being completely wrecked by it.
And then it was my turn.
I looked at him, then down at my hands, and said,
“Well, I grew up in Cape Town… and now I live in Johannesburg.”
That was it. That was my story.
It felt less like a bio and more like a change-of-address form.
It wasn’t envy I felt, but a deep ache.
I didn’t want his life — but I wanted a life. One I could tell stories about.
A life that didn’t flatten into a single sentence when someone asked me who I was.
I wanted my own version of full. Of messy. Of interesting.
Not just “productive.” Not just “fine.” Not just… default settings.
I’ve been thinking back on that Spaniard — and the Shirley Valentine moment that followed.
Both felt like quiet, inconvenient messages from the universe.
If you’ve never seen Shirley Valentine, there’s a scene that…
well, it said something I didn’t know I needed to hear.
(You can read that story here)
It just so happened that around that time, I was no longer enjoying the career I used to love.
My marriage had fallen apart.
And this sense of ache — this feeling of having settled into something that didn’t quite fit — was becoming impossible to ignore.
So yes, the Spaniard’s life bothered me.
The movie line bothered me.
But I let it.
I didn’t shove it down or cover it up with gratitude and productivity.
I didn’t try to trick myself with “Well, this is just what being an adult feels like.”
I let it grow loud enough that I had to do something about it.
I left my career.
I left my friends and the city.
I travelled for a while — not to “find myself,” but honestly, just to breathe.
I thought I’d come back to my old life. But the universe had other plans.
Which, while wildly inconvenient at times, turned out to be correct.
That one conversation didn’t just change my day.
It quietly shifted the trajectory of my whole life.
And that shift? It’s been beautiful. It’s been chaotic. It’s been a lot.
Related reading:
- This Movie Scene Made Me Rethink My Whole Life – How a fictional character handed me the courage I needed.
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