Maitei!

The other evening, Miguel and I found ourselves discussing an American gentleman we know from an online discussion group about Paraguay.

He is one of those fascinating people who accidentally turns ordinary life into a case study.

Years ago, he maintained what we jokingly called an “Instagram harem.”

Well, I called it that.

He denied it existed.

Anyway, before you leap to conclusions, allow me to explain.

At first glance, it sounded exactly as ridiculous as it sounds now.

A collection of women scattered across different cities, different interests, and different parts of his life.

Some he knew in person.

Some he expected he would eventually meet.

Some he knew perfectly well he would never meet.

There were artists.

Professionals.

Writers.

Entrepreneurs.

Women you’d see in business meetings, supermarkets, and church and not suspect any of them would willingly be part of one man’s Instagram harem and view it as Tuesday.

Women who knew each other.

Women who absolutely could not know each other.

Women who interacted primarily through Instagram.

Others who also appeared on LinkedIn, X, Facebook, and text messages.

Sometimes in lengthy phone calls on topics that would probably make their mothers very unhappy.

There were even scheduling systems.

I am not exaggerating.

Certain conversations happened at certain times of day.

Particular women occupied particular spaces in his routine.

There were boundaries.

Categories.

Expectations.

Patterns.

At one point he even had separate recurring times for Lisa and Leesa, which I found delightful for reasons I probably should not admit publicly.

Lisa was long-distance with the possibility of meeting someday, while Leesa was someone local he met on Instagram then saw in-person.

He introduced them to each other.

I don’t share this simply for shock value juxtaposed against more of what might be called “traditional” views about dating, monogamy, or even polyamory.

But rather, because it demonstrated something deeper.

He was paying attention.

What happened next remains one of my favorite details.

One of the other women, who somehow managed to exist simultaneously as a salacious flirtation, a future travel-meet possibility, and a LinkedIn connection who introduced him to someone who became his client, also introduced one of her friends into the harem.

I still find that sentence extraordinary.

Imagine explaining to a friend that you are part of an online harem and then deciding they should join as well.

Yet apparently this is exactly what happened.

The friend joined the larger circle and quickly settled quite comfortably into what I can only describe as the “just for fun” category.

There were no grand expectations attached to it.

It was simply a friendship with a playful, indeed naughty streak and an understanding that not every meaningful connection must lead somewhere permanent.

Now, Miguel and I enjoy teasing him about this.

We always will.

That is what friends are for.

However, as we discussed it further, something interesting emerged.

What if this was not actually a harem at all?

What if it was a community?

Not a formal one.

Not one with membership cards or a mission statement.

But a living network of relationships.

He knew who should be introduced to whom.

He knew which personalities would complement one another.

He understood which conversations belonged together and which needed to remain separate.

In several cases, he indeed introduced women within the harem to each other who became friends themselves.

Two of the women had originally met him offline and were later welcomed into the larger ecosystem.

Others occupied entirely different roles.

What looked chaotic from the outside was surprisingly organized from the inside.

The more we discussed it, the less it resembled romantic intrigue and the more it resembled community-building.

Now, before he sends me an angry message, let me acknowledge an important detail.

Not every decision was a good one.

There was one woman whom I never trusted.

I warned him repeatedly.

He ignored me.

As people sometimes do when they are enchanted by someone.

Eventually reality arrived and solved the problem for all of us.

This is not criticism.

It is simply evidence that he is human.

What stayed with me afterward was not the romantic aspect of the story.

It was the operational aspect.

Most people think relationships happen.

This gentleman treated relationships as something to be cultivated.

Not manipulated.

Not controlled.

Cultivated.

Like a garden.

Some plants need sunlight.

Some need shade.

Some thrive beside one another.

Others should never share the same space.

The older I become, the more I suspect that meaningful communities rarely emerge by accident.

Someone notices people.

Someone remembers details.

Someone introduces the right individuals.

Someone quietly nurtures connections over time.

That work is often invisible.

Yet it is extraordinarily valuable.

The world can feel increasingly disconnected.

Perhaps what we need is not fewer relationships.

Perhaps what we need is more people willing to thoughtfully tend them.

And if that occasionally resembles an Instagram harem from a sufficient distance, well…

I suppose stranger things have happened.

Mis mejores deseos,
Tammie