Free Me by Ricky Martin Page A

was an indescribable feeling, almost like coming home. I felt I was exactly where I was supposed to be, as if I had finally found my place in the world.

FALLING IN LOVE
    EVEN THOUGH MY professional life was flowing wonderfully, the truth is that I quickly dove back into working like crazy, without stopping or ever having time for anything else. So my mother came to support me while I went through it all. My mother loves Mexico, and the time we spent there together was very special—I was no longer the boy who had returned to Puerto Rico after being an international celebrity, and I was in a more mature place in my life to have a solid relationship with her.
    I know many people with incredible mothers say the same thing—but my mother is an extraordinary woman to whom I owe a lot. Not only for the obvious things like raising me, taking care of me, keeping me company, but also because she has always been a great source of support and inspiration in my life. For example, in large part it’s due to my mother that I have a great passion for music, in particular salsa, merengue, the boleros, los trios. . . . She is a devoted music enthusiast and she always had hundreds and hundreds of albums at home. And while my brothers and I spent our time listening to classic rock, she would interrupt us to make us listen to some music from our island. In fact, she once took us to a Fania All-Stars concert, something for which I am beyond grateful! Even though she didn’t necessarily convert me to Latin music back then, later on these influences would have a profound effect on my career. When we lived in Mexico, she would always bring me CDs of artists, such as Fania, Celia Cruz, El Gran Combo, and Gilberto Santarosa, and slowly but surely it was through those recordings and all the way from Mexico that I began to appreciate the richness of my island’s culture. All thanks to my mother.
    There were still a few years before the renowned Latin Boom would emerge in music, the phenomenon that propelled my career, but the seeds of what was coming had already been planted. However, just as my professional life was gradually taking direction, my love life was in total flux. Ever since I had left Menudo, I had shared experiences with both men and women, none of which lasted long enough to even be considered a relationship. Shortly after I’d arrived in Mexico—while I was working on the play—I met a wonderful woman who was the host of a very successful television show, and from the moment I saw her I was attracted to her. Apart from being one of the most beautiful women I have ever met—tall, blond, and as elegant as a first lady, with the style, poise, and class of someone like Coco Chanel and the beauty and sensuality of a Brigitte Bardot—she is a brilliant woman, sweet and caring. We quickly started dating, and she soon became my partner, my friend, my everything. What we had was something magical, and I would have sculpted a throne for her, because to me she was the perfect woman. I loved feeling her body against mine and her hair as it caressed my chest while she was totally disconnected, in her own world, our world. She loved me, and I loved her, and we had many moments of complete and total union. She was an incredible woman. Actually, the perfect woman.
    But like most boys of that age, I was not ready to be with the perfect woman. I was too immature. That, along with the thousands of issues that swirled around in my mind, made me unable to commit to her or even to myself. She could have been the love of my life, but in that moment I felt I had more experimenting and living to do. Or at least that’s how I justified it to myself when we were no longer together.
    After we broke up I spent a couple of years acting like the typical alpha male, a total ladies’ man. I was young and famous, I was an artist, and I made it my business to go out with every woman who crossed my path. It didn’t matter if she was single, married, widowed,