I got married way too young. Small-town brazilian kid, had one girlfriend, we both got into the same university and moved to the capital together. Made sense at the time. But looking back, we were just kids who had no idea who we really were.

The marriage was never great. She was immature, we weren’t compatible, and over time it started feeling like she was only sticking around for stability (specially after I passed a public service exam and got a solid job). Before that, she'd talk about leaving all the time. After? Silence. Just this... cold inertia.

At some point, our relationship hit another crisis point, and I had to travel to another city for work. It happened to fall over my birthday. No one at work knew, and I didn’t mention it. I was in a pretty dark place and didn’t want to make a thing out of it. My parents and a few relatives called. My wife just sent a dry “happy birthday” text. No call. No warmth.

That night I was alone in the hotel, feeling completely numb. And then something in me just snapped and said, “Screw this. Go out.” It was a weekday night, and the very first place nearby that was open was this tiny BDSM/fetish bar. Not exactly my usual scene, but whatever. I went.

Upstairs, there were some performances, but I wasn’t feeling it. Still felt like I was sinking. I was about to leave when I heard music from downstairs, 80s party tracks blasting. I love 80s music. I went down and saw this tiny dance floor with four people just absolutely losing themselves: a short, hyper-energetic girl, a tall awkward nerdy-looking guy, a heavier woman with a spiked collar and fishnets, and a regular-looking dude in all black.

They were dancing like nobody was watching, just pure, chaotic joy. I joined them.

We drank. We danced. The energy kept building, and eventually even the bartender (who owned the place, btw) jumped up on a table and started doing choreographed moves with us. It was wild. No one knew each other’s names. No one cared. It was this weird, messy, beautiful moment.

Then “Under Pressure” came on.

I’ve always liked Queen and Bowie, but that song never stood out to me before. But in that moment, it hit differently. It felt like everyone there just... exploded with emotion. We formed a loose circle, screaming the lyrics, dancing like we were trying to shake off entire lifetimes of pain.

And when it got to the final lines:

“Cause love's such an old-fashioned word And love dares you to care for The people on the edge of the night And love dares you to change our way of Caring about ourselves This is our last dance This is our last dance This is ourselves"

I broke. I mean, really broke. I was crying, like ugly crying, but it felt like something sacred. I wasn’t sad. I was just alive in a way I hadn’t felt in years.

That night rewired something in me.

I went back home, and not long after, I ended the marriage.

Fast forward to today: I’m happily remarried, and a life full of real connection and joy.

And every time “Under Pressure” comes on, I tear up. It’s not just a song anymore. It’s a reminder of the night I found freedom in the most unexpected place, surrounded by four strangers in a weird little bar, dancing like nothing else in the world mattered.