I couldn’t get enough of him, and it seemed like he felt the same way.

But when he left for the summer, I asked if he’d want to keep seeing each other in the fall.

This summer, just two days after my divorce, I left for a 10-week solo trip through Europe, visiting 11 countries and dating in most of them. But shortly after we started arguing more, and with more intensity.

Despite counseling, neither of us was happy, so I moved back in with my family. By summer, I was feeling like myself again, but I was falling for a guy I met on Tinder.

His friends seemed more willing to help me translate in restaurants than Pablo, who seemed more interested in flirting with the scantily-clad girl sitting next to him.

He couldn’t even help me order lunch, when he was the only one who spoke both languages fluently? My last week in Seville I dated Mario*, who was half Italian and half Spanish. Pissed he couldn’t bother to give me a heads up, I looked up taxi companies and scheduled a pick-up.

That weekend, we went to a music festival with his friends and danced to DJs and bands.

His friends were nice, but didn’t really English, and he made little effort to include me in their conversations.

He took me to a rooftop bar with a view of Seville Cathedral and said he’d bring me to the airport Monday morning when I flew to Paris. I was starting to realize I shouldn’t count on men who know they’ll never see me again to keep their word.

But, I was still enjoying traveling overall and spending my days sightseeing. I met Max*, a 28-year-old British Student (a Tinder match), for lunch.

Hahahaha.” I blocked him again, and started to wonder if the mix of good dates was worth the risk of bad ones.

I was in a terrible mood until that night, when I got a notification Will added me on Snapchat. We sat with our feet in the water and he moved closer to me and kissed me.

Instead, we drove to his beach house and had sex for hours.