I had a crush on Daniel Matos in Charles Flanagan high school when we were teenagers. We were both His-Panic Latin Americans in the United States. The chances of me, an Oriental Hispanic Spanish Cuban American being permitted by Spanish families including my own to be in Romance with another Spanish man are even slimmer. Daniel Matos hated the sight of me, from my insulin pump that was saving My Life, to Everything else. Daniel Matos treats other people like shit. We were both writers and were assigned two same classes: one in Algebra II and the other in Creative Writing. People would think that two His-Panic writers would get along, but Daniel Matos is uniquely hateful and competitive that it’s difficult to know how to make a Team of writers resolving the crises in Cuba and how to help our Cuban families out of Communist Cuba. Five men in University of Central Florida kissed me in one year: none of them were Cuban. The reason why I write about Daniel Matos tonight is that someone – our families, grandparents, parents, teachers, third parties, or guidance counselors – arranged for us to be in the same two schools, St. Joseph Elementary school of West New York, New Jersey, and Charles W Flanagan high school of Pembroke Pines, Florida, in at least two classes, and in a rickety van with a bunch of kids in it that he reminded me of my Mother Miriam, but he hated me instead, and also the park by Memorial high school in West New York, New Jersey.