She was 26. Brazilian. Trained the same sport as me.
We matched on Bumble. Moved to WhatsApp fast. Easy to talk to from the start.
Neither of us drinks. I do a dry quarter every year, she just doesn't. So we met at Café Candelabro, ordered two Pedras each and sat for a bit.
After twenty minutes I said let's go for a walk.
No plan. Just Porto.
We grabbed our bottles and walked to Praça de Carlos Alberto. Found a bench. The square was quiet, few people passing.
Then my ex walked by.
Not just any ex. One of the messier ones. She looked at me, looked at the girl sitting next to me, and gave me this look. You know the look. Half confused, half something else entirely.
I nodded. She kept walking.
We kept talking like nothing happened.
After the square we walked toward Universidade do Porto, around the building, down into Jardim da Cordoaria. Good conversation. The kind that flows without you having to push it.
Then I took her up to Miradouro da Vitória. I asked first because at night it's dark up there and not every woman is comfortable with that. She was fine. We went up.
From there you see the whole river, the bridges, Gaia on the other side. About 90 minutes in I kissed her. She kissed me back. We stayed there a while.
Then I walked her toward my place and asked if she wanted to come up.
She said yes.
Good sex. No complications. We saw each other a few more times after that.
Then I stopped.
Not because she did anything wrong technically. But after a few dates I realized the sex was a performance. Every time. Louder than it needed to be, more dramatic than it was, and at some point she pissed on my sheets and called it squirting.
I know what squirting looks like. That wasn't it.
I was tired. Not physically. Tired of watching someone perform instead of just being there. There's a difference between a woman who loses herself in the moment and a woman who has watched too much porn and decided that's what men want.
I don't want a show. I want a person.
By the third date I knew. So I ended it before she built something in her head that wasn't going anywhere.
Porto has a lot of Brazilian women right now. Warm, physical, easy to be around. Some of them are genuinely good people.
But performance is not passion.
And the ex who walked past that night on the bench? Still giving me that look months later.
Some things don't need explaining.