[Insert sappy love quote here]

When I first kissed the ''Silent Man,'' I thought I had found the ideal situation: a beautiful man that I enjoyed being with that could barely speak English. I assumed goodbye would be simple, no tears would be shed and my thoughts would steer clear of 'if onlys' and 'what ifs.' How hard could it be to leave behind a fling you could barely communicate with, right? I could not have been so wrong. Never would I have thought that the Silent Man would be the first person I'd say the words 'I love you' to.

I remember the moment I first saw him; there we sat, the four surf students, cramming in pizzas and fresh juice before grabbing the board that would inevitably leave my teeth swimming in the sea. I sat in the corner, flipping through magazine photos when out of the corner of my eye, a burst of color flash by. My eyes followed and my heart skipped two beats. There he was, a Portuguese man filled with tattoos, piercings, and sense of style complete with a knack for matching and taste for bright colors. My chest deflated as I let out a sigh. Tomas' cackle broke me out of my trance as he caught the twinkle in my eye, the grin hidden in my dimples, and the goose bumps under my skin as I thought, I want him.

My eyes couldn't help but linger on him whenever he was nearby. Our interactions, the few that first occured, were minimal. He seemed disinterested in mingaling. When he spoke, he was short. But the more I paid attention, the more I realized I had it all wrong. It was not a matter of disinterest but rather of miscommunication. He wanted to interact with us but his ways were not through words.

That night, we congregated in the bar for drinks. It was incredible to watch someone orchestrate our six-person party by barely speaking. He filled our glasses, provoked the poses, snapped the photos, and made sure everyone's cheekbones raised as our smiles extended to full capacity. It was beautiful to witness how much someone could say without words.

Then came the question of flirtation. How could I comprehend if my feelings were mutual without speaking? The only option was to be myself, bask in the glory of my gingerosity and sway in the breeze underneath the stars of Portugal.

As I broke my seal and emptied my bladder, I found him at the bathroom sink. In the moment, I felt my skin rise, my heart pound, and my stomach tense into knots. I could feel more than words could do justice for, I could sense how he felt. And with that, we leaned in and exchanged our first kiss.

For the first two days, we spoke through gestures and facial expressions. Words remained at the bare minimum... 'Beach?' 'Yes.' 'Food?' 'No.' 'Camp?' 'Yes.' We spent the days together soaked in silence and yet it felt so right. Forty-eight hours later, we found Spanish and our words began to dance with one another's.

This was no longer just a fling. My stomach folded thinking of leaving him. I wanted nothing more than to remain wrapped within his arms. All of these foreign feelings bubbled within me, things I had never felt before. There was something special about Tiago, something I did not fully understand that was building up inside of me. It was only a matter of time before this feeling intensified and finally burst out of me in the form of three words ''I love you.''

I never thought I'd let myself fall in love. I've spent my 22-and-a-half years convinced I was not meant to love someone in this way. My dreams are too big and love seemed like a notion that would just get in the way of my journeys.

And now? This ginger is love sick, wanting to scream out over and over again the three words that used to make me gag: I-LOVE-YOU.