A few weeks ago, I started going to the pool. Since my heart condition, I haven't had the motivation or initiative to do anything in my daily sedentary life, except watch series, movies, and spend hours lying in bed with my laptop.

The pool is small, 25m, but the water is very clear, probably because of the few people who use it. Few pee and few dead skin cells in suspension. The one I used to go to was murky after about 6-7m. Normally, there were only two or three lanes for free swimming, and we were always at least two in each lane. Here, I have only swum once in a shared lane and for just a few minutes.

More women go than men, and everyone agrees on two things: one is wearing black speedos, which is a mandatory rule in all sports pools; the slip part is the requirement, not that they have to be black. The other, I’ll keep to myself.

I always run into someone during my time slot who makes my eyes wander between strokes, or when we cross paths, or when I’m a few meters behind. Those little butts moving synchronously, all curvy and well-defined, regardless of the body that accompanies them, and those little bulges barely visible.

One day, when I arrived, several lanes were occupied, and underwater I almost ran out of breath. Unfortunately for me, there was a swimmer who met all the minimum requirements I like in a man. It took just one stroke, a stolen glance for me to realize. Call it experience or a trained eye, but the more I looked, the clearer it became, and the more I understood. Whatever little I found unappealing was more than covered by what I did like. I couldn't stop looking at him. I tried to focus on my strokes and my swimming, but reflexively, my eyes searched for him.

I started going to the pool more obsessively every day. But I soon realized that I only went on Saturdays. It frustrated me to only coincide one day a week, but it allowed me to focus more on swimming, which is why I go.

But one weekday, I saw him swimming when I arrived. And like a teenager, my heart skipped a beat. I felt nervous, I was happy; it was absurd. I'm not at an age to get worked up like that, or maybe that's why emotions at a certain age are more intense, because even though you have a life history, feelings have the same strength as when you experience them for the first time.

Although I don't have it diagnosed, I have the feeling and it's becoming clearer that I have OCD. A few years ago, I wondered why I did certain things, and when I relate it or look at it through the eyes of OCD, everything makes sense. That would also explain why I've always been a poor student; on the other hand, I have knowledge of various topics, even my high IQ, which I’m embarrassed to acknowledge because it makes people uncomfortable.

A couple of times we coincided in the locker room. There’s an unwritten rule to greet each other even if you don’t know each other. It’s probably because you’r...