Sujeiry Gonzalez

Sujeiry Gonzalez is the Love Guru on Exitos 93.9FM,  a relationship writer and author of Love Trips. Get her relationship advice daily on LoveSujeiry.com.

Hanging By a Text

I finally broke down. At 2 a.m. one morning, I found myself crying in a bar because of Mr. G. He didn't do anything—and that was the problem. Not to mention I felt incredibly alone after the speed dating and singles mixer debacle. So from one minute to the next I went from swaying to a song to sobbing in a bathroom stall. And then I did something I haven’t done since my days as a foolish and impulsive 20-something-year-old: drunk text.


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Desperately Seeking Sujeiry

I stood in a sea of men and could smell the desperation. "So these are the people who come to a speed dating singles mixer," I thought, totally discouraged. I looked around the room and tried to divert eye contact with a nerdy guy rocking huge glasses. He was no Mr. G. He couldn't possibly think I would be interested.

But of course, he did. "Hello. How are you?" he asked.


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Sweet Freedom!

"What did I do?" I thought to myself as I walked down the stairs with Mr. Puerto Rico trailing close behind. Ever since handing in our speed dating match cards, he hadn’t left my side. It might’ve been wonderful if I was smitten, but I wasn’t. Besides, I just attended the speed dating event because I wanted to flirt with someone other than my Dominoes delivery guy!


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Ready, Set, Speed Date!

Days after my crying-in-the-shower sobfest, I found myself at a Latino speed dating event. I sat patiently, waiting for the first man to take his seat. The organizer shouted "Go!" and men began to circulate like troops following orders. Seconds later, a tall, lanky Mexican who wasn't really my type introduced himself. It made me miss Mr. G, but I remained positive and chatted him up for the allotted five minutes of time.


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Rain, Rain, Go Away!

"I'm back! Do you have time to meet this week?" That’s exactly what I texted Mr. G as soon as I got back to New York from Boston. Well, not immediately. When I got off the bus I was greeted with pounding rain, and I refused to damage my phone by whipping it out during a torrential downpour. I have priorities, after all! Besides, I wanted to show Mr. G that even though I felt he was "The One," I still had a busy social life. I was at nobody's beck and call!


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Video: Sujeiry's Love Song for Mr. G

Some people will do just about anything to find "The One." As you all know, I've waited for Mr. G’s phone calls with a patience and understanding I didn’t even know was possible. But that’s because its Mr. G. If it were any other man, I would tell them to take their excuses and shove it


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You Shouldn’t Procreate

There was Kurt. The college crush who used to get me all hot and bothered at just the sight of him. It had only been two years since I'd seem him last, but now he looked acabado. But I still greeted him with a quick peck on the cheek and hug. I held the hug a little too long and felt awkward. Why did I do that?!? Perhaps I still wished the best for Kurt. I guess even total a-holes deserve marriage, babies and good health, no?


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Man Up!

Though my conversation with Mr. G was short, the message was clear. Mr. G was sorry for his disappearance. He sounded stressed and upset, venting about work and the traffic. I listened quietly and let him know I was longer angry. Then Mr. G surprisingly admitted he had read my blog, Love Trips. I sent him a recent post I'd written which focused on our new romance. When I emailed the link to Mr. G, I was hoping it would motivate him to act!


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Are You There Universe? It's Me, Sujeiry

When it comes to Mr. G, my friends think I'm insane. And from reading the comments it's safe to assume you all think I'm insane as well (along with beautiful, vibrant and intelligent, so thank you). Why have I waited for Mr. G to get himself together? Well, it's because of the universe. Yes, dear readers, I said the universe.


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Tainted Love

Something scary happened while I was waiting for Mr. G to contact me last week: My heart began to stomp around my chest like a bratty child and my stomach tossed and tumbled like an acrobat. I felt a weird schoolgirl anxiety for someone other than Mr. G.


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