The Confident Spaniard (2013)

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A story of obsession.

Confidence is one of the most attractive features a man can have. Looks, we get used to. The good looking, insecure man will only hold our attention for so long. But what about the regular guy that has charisma, a sense of mystery and inner confidence? That, girls, is what gets us hooked.

Hugo had all three qualities.

I was dancing on a rooftop bar in the old area of Panama City when a curly haired guy approached me, rather swaggered over with the most relaxed confidence I have ever seen.

the bar

the bar

“Whoever the DJ is, he should be shot.” He confided in me as if I had known him for years.

The song playing was: “Tonight I’m Loving(Fucking) You.” Loving was the clean version of the song. I guess Enrique Iglesias thinks love is the synonym for fuck. That, or thinking for him is as overrated as good singing.

Hugo’s manner put me at ease immediately, so I laughed and asked him if he was Argentinian. He had an accent in Spanish I couldn’t identify. But it did sound charming.

“No, Colombia” he smiled. “Don’t I look Colombian?”

“You are Spanish!” I finally realized. That’s where the Spanish lisp was coming from. Argentinians always talk with a sh, like plasha instead of playa.

At first Hugo was just a regular guy. Curly black hair. Dark eyes. Boyish look. Tall. At the first glance, attractive I suppose, but nothing special. It is the way he stood there, confident to the bone, nonchalant and sarcastic with a slow smile and a mysterious aura about him. He had a feel of the ‘bad boy’ but he didn’t try to act like one. He simply knew that he oozed sex appeal and that meant more than a leather jacket and a motorcycle combined. I was so drawn to him, I actually gave him two phone numbers. One local and one Canadian for texting.

He wrote me a message that night but I decided to play it coy and wait a day or two. Except that the next day, during a trip to the caves, I dropped my phone in the water and as destiny (or luck) would have it was now unreachable. If you don’t count phone number two, that is.

evening-casco-v1

Casco Viejo

A week later, still phoneless, I went out with Nadia, a blonde Russian with whom we were inseparable. We were quite sick, actually I think we had a fever, but I forced her to leave the house for a ‘drink’ which turned into another drink and yet another drink… It was late and we were heading home, through the old part of Panama, when who do I see, but my bad boy Hugo and another Spanish friend of his heading our way!

Somehow, my girlfriend being the flirt she was, already met and kissed Hugo’s friend that evening while withdrawing cash. Don’t even ask me how that’s possible. Now, he came up to her and almost immediately they started making out as if they were in a room and not a street.

Hugo and I were not. Instead he was trying to understand why I never replied to his one message. I told him the story and gave him the number of my Panamanian cell, even though he had to have it already.

After taking it down (again) he moved closer to me and I slightly leaned back on the car behind me. I was dying to kiss him. But he clearly enjoyed torturing me, knowing the power he had over me. What he did next was the most seductive thing I have ever experienced, and the irony in that is that it was not even foreplay. He took my face into his hand and brought his face to mine. Then he lightly kissed me, and just as soon as I thought he was going to go further he backed away. He leaned in again, now more aggressive and pulled away slightly. It was getting more and more passionate by the second and I have to admit, I loved the teasing.

I realized then that all of us are suckers for anticipation. We love a man who has the power to tease us, to keep us intrigued and yearning. And this is why, we tend to go for the ‘bad boys’. We want to experience the passion, the seduction, if only once in our lives, even if we know it will be accompanied by pain. And by the way, I tested the Spaniard’s technique on guys and it works like a charm. As soon as you back away,The-seduction-of-mystery they literally pounce on you. (Except for Theo, the Virgin who asked me what was wrong)

We kissed and kissed until a car drove by us and a man screamed: “Get a room”. Except it was in Spanish, which made it even funnier.

Hugo invited Nadia, her kissing friend and I to eat. He sat in the front of the taxi and I ended up in the back with Nadia and the Spaniard practically glued to each other.

Finally we got out and as I looked around I realized that Hugo lived five minutes away from me in a building ironically called “Madrid”.

clamsWe all ended up back at his place which looked like a dump but he did end up cooking a delicious meal of mariscos (seafood) at 4 am in the morning. Nadia couldn’t stop commenting on how good it was, while I sat there with what she later described as a dumb smile pasted on my face. I don’t even remember if it was the alcohol or being around him that made me act this way. Actually I didn’t even understand half of the things he would tell me, due to his heavy Madrid accent. It was all corathon, tranquila tia and joder.

Nadia and her Spaniard disappeared soon after they finished the mariscos. I suppose they were proceeding to their second meal of the evening. That left me alone with Hugo, who instantly suggested he walk me home. Aww, right? Well, that was before we stood in front of my building and he decided to invite himself up.

I should have said no.

Instead I said yes. Actually I told him he could come up but there would be no sex to be had. Which, if you have read my stories is an unfortunate, over-used line with me which works only half the time. At this point, I have realized that it would only make sense to prepubescent boys.

First I wanted to show him my roof. Seriously, my roof was amazing. I would sit there some nights just listening to music and overlooking the bright skyline. Other times, I would cry over a guy. But the best part was the little pool which couldn’t be used so much for swimming as for soaking there or romancing, as in this case.

Hugo got in the water as I sat on the ledge in my red shirt and black skirt. He swam to me and started taking them off. No questions asked. It was hard to complain when it was done in such a confident and sexy manner. When I ended up in my panties, I lowered myself into the pool. The slow seductive kissing from earlier was now much more heated as he pressed me to the wall. But two could play that game. I instantly backed away, which made him smile and move into me like a hungry tiger. We must have looked like two boxers (in a game of seduction!) but wow, the swimming in the pool that night still stands out as one of the highlights of the experience in Panama.

Rrrr!

Rrrr!

Wet and dripping all over the marble floor, we walked down to my apartment. I shared the place with four other people so we tiptoed into my room, where he continued his game of seduction made easier by the fact that we were now on my bed. He definitely knew what he was doing, but I applaud myself on the fact that I did not have sex with him. My reasoning was simple: he lived a block away from me. If I succumbed immediately, I would never see this guy again. And I was actually so attracted to him, I knew he had the power to hurt me deeply. Power – the tool of the person who cares least.

We slept the whole night intertwined. This intimacy gave me a false feeling of connection to him. But in reality, I didn’t even know him. Not only was he a box of secrets, but I couldn’t even understand his version of Spanish! Sorry – Thpanish!  I was sure he was playing around. He was three years younger than me, working around the globe, not even thinking of settling down. And why would he? In Panama, as in many countries, Hugo could use his sensual Spanish to the full degree. Latin girls seemed to be dropping panties at the word foreigner and Spaniards took full advantage of that.

Hola chico!

Hola chico!

Me, on the other hand… Well, I wanted to find something meaningful and I knew that Hugo would not be it. Still, when he asked me if I wanted to go to the pool that morning, I took that to mean he was interested. Right after, he seemed to have changed his mind. The phone rang and soon after talking with whoever it was, he sprung out of bed and began to get dressed. “Call me” was the last thing he said before leaving.

Hard Rock Hotel

Hard Rock Hotel

At first I was in a great mood. Who cared about Hugo? It was convenient he lived close by and I could see him whenever I wanted. I would wait for him to call but I would not contact him first. I spent the rest of the day at the pool at Hard Rock Hotel we used to sneak into with the girls. We discussed each other’s guys as if we were on the episode of “Sex and the City”.

So needless to say I was in high spirits. I was young, in a new country and having wonderful adventures.

But a week later he didn’t call me. And another week after that. And I began to get obsessed. I couldn’t understand why a guy who practically lived near me, who almost had sex with me, who asked for my number, could not now ask me out or at least write something? Didn’t he want to eventually “seduce me”?

At the end, I couldn’t wait any longer and wrote him a message. The worst? He didn’t respond. I waited one day, two days… Maybe he didn’t get my message? We over-analyzed this situation on Nadia’s balcony countless times. But at the bottom of our hearts, I knew: if you are asking your girlfriend why he did this or that, he is unfortunately not just that into you. The truth hurt.

“Stop thinking about this guy.” Nadia told me countless times. “I don’t even know what is so special about him. I remember him as a bit of an asshole.”6a00e54ef2e21b883300e5503564568834-800wi

If only I could stop.

He finally replied two days later, saying he just received the message and that he would love to see me. I was so excited, I jumped up and down on the balcony. The next day I texted him the date and the time, but guess what? No answer again. To take my mind of off this nonsense, I went out with a group of friends only to receive two calls from him that night at 11 am. If this wasn’t a classic booty call, I don’ t know what is.

So ended any attempts on his part and I would have never seen him again, if it wasn’t for Nadia who kept on repeating over and over how she missed the mariscos he prepared for us and was wondering where he bought them. Ok, now I will admit. It wasn’t Nadia’s doing. It was mine. I needed any reason to text him again and now I had it.

Hugo texted back that he was really happy to hear from me and invited us over for dinner at his house. Apparently a new Spanish friend was visiting and needed entertaining. Nadia told me she would not have sex with the Spaniard. “I am not some entertaining committee here!” she told me. Good, because I wasn’t planning on sex with Hugo. Again. So why the hell was I prancing over to his place? Again? Had I become the stray dog, begging for scraps?

And if this could get any worse, here it is. Hug was pushing me to bring another girlfriend with me. Apparently he also had a Spaniard roommate and they were all thinking of playing couples Twister. I will repeat. Couples Twister. Is that the new lingo for an orgy? This Hugo seemed to have an array of male friends coming from Spain. Nadia and I joked about the huge line forming all over Madrid of the hot guys waiting to be sent over to Panama.

I wonder how this game ends

I wonder how this game ends

And if you were not yet convinced how low I could go, I will tell you: I actually saw Hugo with a Latin girl a couple of weeks prior to this. I swore to myself that I did the right thing in not sleeping with a man who is clearly sleeping all over Panama and now I was eagerly hopping to his house at the slightest beckoning.

The Spaniards were all there when Nadia and I came in the door. Hugo’s friend Javi was actually quite attractive and he flirted with me, until he realized that his friend was ‘with me’ (for that evening). It would have been brilliant to start flirting with Javi and leave Hugo hanging, but I really couldn’t control myself around this guy. Hugo was cooking chorizo, as apparently he had no time to go to the supermarket and get seafood so the whole pretense of dinner was obvious. The guys wanted sex, they wanted it easy and we came to accommodate that need. On a Tuesday.

After he finished cooking, Hugo sat by me, leaning back on the sofa and I sat near him, trying to seductively nibble on my chorizo. If you don’t know chorizo is a Spanish word for sausage. So now you get the pun. He talked to me but I also felt like he was flirting with Nadia, maybe to make me jealous or possibly because he actually didn’t give a damn about me. At one point he caressed my leg, in a way that said “Ok, Ok. You are with me. Don’t you worry.”

“I understand you” Nadia told me afterwards. “He is beautiful. He is deep. He has crazy charisma and mystery. This was from the girl that thought nothing of him when she first met him.

Her and Javi left right after (with no sex this time), leaving the other roommate alone on his cellphone looking dejected since everyone coupled up. The poor guy must have really been looking forward to the game of Couples Twister.

Low and behold, Hugo offered to walk me home. We didn’t kiss up until the building and there, as he kissed me, I no longer felt the same excitement. I knew I was being used. I was letting myself be used, rather and that felt low. Again, he wanted to come up and again I let him. I knew that no matter what happened that night – we would never see each other again. I could have sex and get hurt or I could simply spend the night with this overdue obsession of mine. I went with my heart and what it wanted for that night and that was to be close to him.

He lay down on my bed and we began kissing. As he removed my clothing, I told him I was not going to have sex with him.

“Why not?” he asked in that arrogant way of his.

“Because.. I just don’t trust you!”

“You don’t trust me?”

“What do you expect me to say after you disappeared that time?”

“What would you like me to do?”

“What would I like? Normal things, like a date”

“A date, huh.” He started thinking. “Ok”

He kept on talking in that self-assured way of his and I, deciding to take full control told him to shut up and actually gave him a blow job. In a way, I wanted to feel full power over him, to let him know just how good it could be with me but not to succumb to his power. At the same time, was I really gaining control or was I like a teenage girl thinking she could win a guy through ‘good head’?

The first thing he said was: “You don’t trust me? What if I don’t trust you? You know what you are doing. And I don’t know how many guys you have done this with.”

The guy was a bullshitter through and through. I can tell you that.

But thankfully I never had sex with him. Although letting him sleep in my bed the second time around and doing everything else but the actual act was just as good. And not seeing him again would hurt just as much.

That night, as we slept intertwined; I remembered his scent, the feel of his curly hair, the weight of him. I wanted to save it for the future, because I knew that when he walked out the door in the morning, that would be it. I felt it in my bones. As the morning came, his alarm sounded. He had to get up at dawn for work. As he got dressed, he stood there, looking at me almost as if he felt bad he couldn’t promise me anything. Then he kissed me on the cheek and left. Right after the door closed, I began to cry. The smell of him on my pillow lingered for another week.

He did ask me on a date (rather an invite to hand out with his girl friend, and possibly ‘walk me home’ again). I declined but hoped he would ask me out for real. It never happened and that was the last I saw of Hugo.

Nadia told me that she ran into him in a club not so long ago. He asked how I was and she told him I left Panama. He pondered over it and asked her why I never said bye. He could have driven me to the bus terminal.

Why I never said bye. Good question.

It is a story that stops without a proper ending, but it is also one that contains important lessons. The person with control is the one who cares least. Confidence changes the perception of looks in mere minutes. Heart sometimes makes us do low, desperate things. And bad boys do not always come on motorcycles, but they will ride all over your self worth. So put yourself in control, instead of secretly enjoying the feeling of being pulled like a puppet on a string and for the love of God, wait before you invite him up.

Sexy Jewish Men – When a No turns to Yes

Image  Let’s start with the fact that I am not a slut. I am a classy girl and a strong believer in waiting to have sex. At least beyond one day. I think waiting a week to a month is a good way of getting to know the person, gaining respect and separating yourself from every other one night stand. Believe me. I have read tons of books on the subject and have an older brother.

There are instances in life, however, when your heart and body completely dominates your head. There are men that make us lose our senses completely, because they generate ease, sex appeal and real confidence. They are masters at selling sex to you. They do not hurry you up or plead with you with “please, can we just a little bit?”. They just know how to phrase the proposal and to kiss you so well, that any resistance melts away and your mind literally shuts off.

Both of these men for me happened to be Jewish.

I have never been attracted to Jewish guys, I will be honest. Being half Jewish myself I always went for the opposite, but when it comes to sex, let me generalize and say “oh, my God!” The regret is totally worth the experience.

The first one was from Israel. I met him in the summer while vacationing in Costa Rica. He was much younger (as it is sadly a trend with me), a surfer travelling for months ‘in search of the perfect wave, dude!’ He was working as a receptionist at a surfing hostel when I met him. Super relaxed, witty and flirty, he was charming but not my type. I didn’t even seriously consider him until he came to a party that night and we began flirting. When he offered to go to the beach, I thought we would just do some kissing.stock-footage-silhouette-of-couple-during-beach-sunset

When he tried to go further, I stopped him saying I wasn’t going to have sex. Believe me. Up until this point I was positive I wouldn’t. OK, he agreed, let’s just talk and look at the stars.

I can’t believe I actually bought that line. We talked for I think, one minute in total when he started at it again. His mouth was on my neck as he was sensually kissing me, going lower and lower until I had to stop him again. No problem, he agreed casually. We talked again. He tried to make it romantic by asking me questions. When I said no the third time, he became a salesman.

“It is up to you of course” He said “But you have two days here. If we had sex today, tomorrow would be so much better.” It was kind of “get one, get the second half price” kind of a deal. Oh Jews – what salespeople indeed.

This line got me thinking. Hmm. I did want to have sex with him. Did it matter if I waited one more day? We could be together for two whole days. He was really good at kissing, so I wondered what else he might be good at… and ok, OK, I stayed in a surfing village in Costa Rica. The sand, beach, surfing and drinking combination do not make for a clearly reasoning mind.

He invited me to his room and I agreed saying I would only spend the night with him. Sure, he agreed.I am tired anyways.

You know what happened at the end? You guessed right. He didn’t even have to convince me. He merely asked “So, how are you feeling about this?” when I said “I want to have sex”.  How great is that? Great seduction skills plus wonderful tactic equals stupid girl who offers to have sex with you. I gotta say though, the sex was completely worth it. Probably the best in my life so far. He was very dominating and he knew how to take charge.

The ironic thing is, we never got to have a second time. Mr. Israel figured he has had enough and ditched me the next evening, but I suppose he got lonely at night because he left a note asking me to spend the night with him. ‘He didn’t like to sleep alone’. Thank God, I put my scrambled brains in my head this time and simply left that day.

Unfortunately, my bad judgement does not stop there. 

A week ago, I received an email from a French guy I once met on the street in Barcelona. All I remembered was he was really tall, dark and quite handsome.  He was coming to my city so we decided to meet for a drink on the rooftop. Oh and he was part Moroccan Jewish, of course.panorama-1

He was extremely stylish and smelled amazing which I suppose comes with being Parisian. And definitely out to get me. To bed. He actually told the waitress to get me something strong so he would be able to seduce me. In front of me. He openly flirted with me throughout the whole date and at one point I classified him as a douchebag. Then, as I showed him I was resilient to his cheesy charms, and shot down all his attempts at flirting with sarcastic comments and “does this actually work?”, he finally seemed to take me seriously and we had a genuine conversation.

Again, I told this guy I was not going to have sex with him. He was in my city only for one night and I am classy enough to end it at a kiss. Usually.

I have experience with French guys, I have watched countless movies and I have seen the whole hand kissing thing enough to know it is a ploy, but when he began kissing the back of my wrist, I swear – I melted. I became a living and breathing stereotype for a girl who swoons upon hearing the words amour and cherie.  Living in North  America, we don’t get a lot of sensuality, so French men can use that to their full advantage. Assholes.

After we shared a really passionate kiss, he started convincing me to come up to his hotel room. He continued kissing my neck literally to the point where my mind temporarily shut off. And if you know me you know that I always over-analyze everything. I wouldn’t come up to his hotel but I also didn’t want to leave him. I mean, damn, I am human! And the neck kissing was out of this world! What is it with the damn French guys? Do they go to a special school or something?Shoe Wine

I suggested we take a taxi to my place and I would maybe consider letting him up. He didn’t expect such a turn of events and said I really surprised him, in a good way. But then, I surprised myself more. I allowed him to stay the night, telling him I would not have sex with him. Seriously. Never try that. I hope you are smart enough not to. I mean, how the hell did my train of thought even work at that moment? “Oh, I will spend the night with a horny, grown man who is not my friend but wants to get into my pants. And I also want him to. We will do other things, but not more. Oh, and he is part Moroccan. That will help matters.”

It is miraculous –  the winding paths my logic sometimes follows. You would think I was sixteen (and pregnant).

I have to say though – I lasted until the morning. I tried really hard to fight the urge. He was dominating, sensual, knew exactly what he was doing and curiosity won the best of me. Again, really worth it, but what bothers me is that I became like every other girl. A girl who says no, but ends up saying yes. Oh, and to make it worse? I didn’t use a condom. And now I have to go through a check up. Why? Well, let’s just say at the tender age of 28 I completely lost all my wits.

It is difficult being a girl sometimes. Especially if you feel like you should be classy. I want to be classy. I think I am. But sometimes, there is a part of you that says “What about now? What about this feeling? What if you die tomorrow and this would be the greatest sensual experience of your life?” And some guys know how to play on that. These two guys are a great example of how to seduce a woman. Both waited and slowly seduced me until I just succumbed. I beat myself about it afterwards, but do I regret it really?

I’ll end this with a line from a movie called “Spread”. In it, the character of Ashton Kutcher gives tips on seducing women. At one point he says “If a girl says she is not having sex with you, before you can even blink, before you can even think – she is having sex with you.” It is very upsetting to me that I watched this movie before my recent experience and became the rule rather than the exception to this theory.Spread_poster

Alas, seduction wins. But now, I have to listen to my head.

The Virgin (2013)

forty_year_old_virgin_ver2

Never get involved with someone for the reason of “helping them”. 

When he walked into the club, he stood out. First of all, he was tall. He also had an attractive face and I swear I could feel his European-ness a mile away.

We were in a fifties style club, for a friend’s birthday. He seemed to know all of my friends. Everyone, except for me, which wasn’t a surprise – I pretty much just got back from Panama.

I waited and waited to be introduced. This is my new tactic – relax and let things happen. When I realized I might wait the whole night like this, I reverted to my old technique – make the move. I walked up to my friend and got him to introduce me to the guys, which he did with a sarcastic grin on his face.

Lenard, the chubby shorter guy was the chatty one. Theo was the one I liked. Both were from The Netherlands studying for their masters.

Theo was cute. With dark blue eyes, light brown hair falling in strands over his forehead and a nice built he looked as if he had no trouble getting girls. But when he talked to me, I didn’t sense his interest. His eyes did not gaze into mine with meaning. He seemed detached, completely disinterested and not in the least bit flirty. He talked and talked, but never actually took the time to slow down, smile and really look at me. I figured he really wasn’t interested and I was just wasting my time. So I reverted to my new technique of not giving a damn and excused myself to go to the bathroom. In addition, he was only here for the remaining month and I have been through and over this with similar consequences. Another guy who would leave. Another, whatever it was. I was getting quite sick of it.

I spent the night dancing and fighting the urge to initiate conversation. My new motto was: if someone wants you, they will make it happen. Especially if you already took that extra step. His friend and he never danced. They simply walked around talking to people and when they left, he walked right by me without saying bye.

The next day I noticed that he added me on Facebook and I was slightly surprised. I guess waiting did pay off in the end. When he began chatting to me online,  I figured he must be somewhat interested.

I didn’t hear from him for a couple of days and let’s be honest here. I didn’t really care. I thought he was cute, yes, but was I really attracted to him? He seemed to miss a presence, a spark – something that would really get my heart beating faster.

A few days later, I got a text message out of nowhere asking me if I wanted to grab a drink. I got a bit excited until I realized – his friend was coming too. When we met, I noticed that Lenard was much more engaged in a conversation with me, while Theo never gave me a prolonged stare to show his interest. He talked, surely enough, but there was no extra attention. It didn’t disappoint me as much as add more water to my already melting interest. Also, I didn’t appreciate the fact that I was treated like one of the guys. They had this rule that each person would buy a round of beers for the other two. I thought it was a ridiculous rule, given that I am a girl, but went along with it.symw-beers-joe-via-thebrokenheeldiaries-dot-com

Either way, they were both fun, more so Lenard who was very opinionated and cracked jokes about everything, including his love of sexual innuendos Theo seemed uncomfortable with. But Theo was good-looking and European and I suppose, it made me feel good to walk around with him, as shallow as that sounds.

The next day we met for the Rugby game and after, joined a rooftop party my friends invited me too. They were very surprised to see the Dutch boys there and threw me a couple of inquiring looks. I stayed with Theo the entire evening, slightly interested in him and flirting as much as I could, touching him constantly, but there was no sexual energy between us. Again, he stood out of the crowd, with his big hands moving his unruly hair back every so often, so much that all the girls seemed to drink him up. I felt a sense of pride at this, knowing he really was interested in me. I felt it, though he has made no move up to this point.

By the end of the night, as they walked me back, I really gave up. I have had enough of both of them, inseparable, and Theo who was too chicken to make a move.

And so continued a couple of weeks. He would write to me and invite me out, always accompanied by his best friend. I began to get irritated and bitched to my guy friends about his lack of initiative.

“Maybe he only likes you as a friend?” suggested one of my female friends a little smugly.

“Well why does he keep on inquiring about my day, what I do, where I am?” I almost yelled at her in frustration. I hate it when people turn the problem around and make you sound like you are inventing problems. And they make you feel almost guilty for being so arrogant to assume that someone actually likes you!

My guy friends found this hilarious. I couldn’t care at this point. It was getting ridiculous and I was too old to deal with childish behavior. So, one night when he invited me over to his house to watch “Die Hard”, I told him my perfect Saturday evening did not involve watching an action movie with two guys. Get the point there, mister!die_hard_two_ver2_xlg

But as I was walking down the street the next day, I ran into the Dutch guys by some weird stroke of .. luck? Theo looked me up and down, but let Lenard initiate the conversation for most of the walk. We were going to the same barbecue as it turned out.

It was a freezing August night and I didn’t bring anything to cover myself so as I stood on the street, he offered to “keep me warm”. Keeping me warm consisted of hugging me and awkwardly and tapping my back, as if I was a male buddy and not a girl he was actually interested in.

“Theo” I said “That’s not how you hug a girl!”

“Let me hug you again” he offered awkwardly. I swear to God, good looks can go to waste when someone is that insecure.

This time the hug lasted longer, but just as I began to relax and actually feel he was treating me like a woman, he tapped me again.

ARGH.

Towards the end of the night, we stepped out of the bar. My friend let me borrow her shawl and I put it on to keep me warm for my forty minute walk home. Theo hugged me again, this time with no tapping and I found myself learning into his warm body as he gently caressed my shoulders. Leonard looked us up and down. I suppose we looked really intimate.

I figured Theo would say goodnight and join his inseparable self, but instead he asked me if he could walk me back.

“It’s a thirty minute walk” I said, both challenging and warning him.

“It’s OK” He looked me straight in the eyes uncomfortably.

“You don’t have to” I emphasized. I didn’t actually know if I wanted him to agree or disagree. We have never been one-on-one for longer than ten minutes and this might have gotten awkward as I always felt around him. After seeing he would not give up, I shrugged with a smile. OK, let’s go.

We walked hugging each other all the way back and I think that this physical closeness made it easier for us to be honest.

“So” I asked “What do you think about Dutch girls?”

“How is this related to our conversation about people?”

“Well girls are people. This is merely for anthropological purposes” I added.

He stalled. “I don’t really have much experience with girls.”

As if I couldn’t tell at this point.

“I mean, I know what to do.. I am just too shy about actually doing something” he continued, afraid to look at me.

“I can see that.” I said “You just don’t know how to make a move.”

“The thing is I know what to do. I just don’t know how to get around to doing it. I get nervous”

I looked at him. “Are you nervous right now?”

“Yes” he said looking straight ahead.

I stopped in my tracks and he looked at me questionably. Then I did something I haven’t done since my early twenties, when I thought that making the first move would at least rid of the awkwardness of having to wait for the guy. I leaned in and kissed him. The thing is,  he needed this. This would be the only thing that would make him feel more comfortable and it was long in coming. Poor Theo was not a good kisser. He wasn’t bad, but he was really nervous and that made the kiss unnatural and awkward. I felt like I was kissing a boy and not a twenty-five year old man. His birthday was in a few days. He would be twenty-six. The age when a man has normally experienced a string of dates, one-night stands, relationship(s) and possibly even a threesome.

“That was awful” he admitted after we stopped kissing. I shrugged it off and said “practice makes perfect”. We walked back a little more comfortably and when we were in front of the condo,  I asked him if he wanted to get some water.

He jumped at the opportunity to come up, so we did. Once he got some water in him, I told him he could technically stay but..

He didn’t let me finish the end of that sentence, saying that it was late and he would much prefer that to the hike back.

I offered him the couch, but figured he was harmless and let him sleep on my bed.

Do I look like I would make a move? He confirmed for me and I actually felt sorry for him.

But surprise of all surprises came when he pulled a what I call “Italian” on me and his hands started wandering. I could have stopped him, I know that, but a part of me felt bad. The poor guy needed this. The other part was intrigued. The last one was kind of horny. After all, I was in bed, half naked with a good looking guy. And his kissing was progressing at a fast rate.

“You know” He told me “I really have limited experience. This is as far as I have gone”

I was shocked. I really didn’t know what to say to that. So, I didn’t say anything. I half expected it but to actually hear someone was a virgin at the tender age of almost 26  was unbelievable. The worst is, he was way better looking than Lenard, yet Lenard seemed to have almost a porn star experienced compared to his.

However, I stuck to my rule and did not have sex with him that night. I don’t think he even wanted to. He was still dazed from being in bed with a naked girl. It was amazing to watch his expression as he ran his hands over my body. It was as if he was a sculptor observing a beautiful sculpture he had just molded.

We slept together and the next morning he had to go home, since I was having a barbecue, inviting all of our now collective friends. Had my guy friends found the guy I bitched about in my condo, they would have never let it go.

During the barbecue I ignored him mostly. Being around him was slightly awkward and Lenard with his annoying remarks that got under my skin didn’t help matters. All the winking and giggling made me feel like I was back in high school.

My girlfriends who now saw him for the first time expressed their thumbs up and told me to “go for it.” He was “so cute”! Even when I pointed him out to my brother, he dropped his mouth. I guess I wouldn’t have believed it either. But the reality was, he just wasn’t my guy. Eloquent and confident as he seemed, he lacked fire and sex appeal. So I ignored him until I started to feel bad and then led him onto the balcony and kissed him.

“Just sleep with the guy” offered my brother. “I mean,  it won’t be a big deal for you but it would mean a lifetime for him.” Yes, in reply to your answer. My brother and I talk about everything.

I pondered this thought. Yes, he wasn’t really for me, but I have been with quite a few unworthy guys and here was one who really deserved it. I could change his life. I could be his Stefan (read the German). I have never been anyone’s first.. Not that I have wanted to be. I prefer experienced guys.. but hell. Why not?

I think I was really bored and have not felt anything for a while. It is really sad that I did this for such shallow reasons, because it did not make this ‘thing’ any more memorable.

I suppose a part of me wanted to feel a power that Stefan must have felt when he made me a woman. The other part felt sorry for him. No one should feel inadequate for being a virgin at such an age. Having lost my virginity late in life (two weeks away from my twenty-third birthday) I knew what that felt like. Theo would lose his at twenty-five. I wanted to help him. Hmm, maybe I could also put that on my resume. Teacher/virgin helper.

He stayed over that night and early in the morning, as we woke up and started getting kind of worked up I offered it to him matter of factly. “Soooo.. Theo… you wanna have sex?”

“Um. Yes?” he finally got out. I could have laughed then at how well his serious face concealed the emotion. Ah, good old Northern Europeans!

So we did. It was less awkward than our first kiss and actually not bad at all. Afterwards he took a shower and sat in the living room with his hair wet and an entranced expression on his face. Finally he got up and said he had to go but hoped to see me before his birthday.

He had a week left in Canada.

I guess I was so set on being some perverted form of Mother Theresa that I didn’t bother thinking about the ‘what would happen’. Theo  began to see me as his girl. It was obvious to both of us he was leaving but he was fully set on returning in four months. He didn’t bother me, send me love letters or cry at my doorstep but I felt his need for me.

birthday_cake

Kind of like that. Except I am not blonde

I saw him on the day of his birthday that he was celebrating on the lake shore. I didn’t bring a present. Actually I told him that was his birthday present after sex. I told him no one else would bring such a great one. Not even Leonard.

When he actually paid for my drink and began offering me more, Lenard looked at me in awe and said “You made a Dutch guy un-Dutch.”

All of my friends realized we had a thing going on and made hilarious faces behind Theo’s back. The joke centered around how I made Theo a man. Little did they know how close to the truth they were.

I realized how much Theo changed when on Saturday, who, while we were at a Greek restaurant had walked in wearing a new collared shirt, with his hair freshly washed, smelling of deodorant. There was a Greek festival on the street and everyone was dancing in circles, so he jumped in and began dancing in a circle. When I met him he seemed deadly afraid of dancing and now he was practically turning Greek. When we entered the Latin club, he offered me drink after drink, even though I knew he would normally not do that. In fact, he once mentioned he would never pay for a girl. Then, he asked me teach him salsa and actually turned out to be a great dancer.

Not quite as great

Not quite as professional

When I couldn’t stop laughing at this sudden change, he looked at me and said “You woke me up. You know that, right?” I told him that was probably the most romantic thing anyone has said to me. Seriously. It sounds like a line right out of the movie. I almost answered with “You had me at hello”.

The sex has gotten way better and I quite enjoyed lying next to him as the freezing August weather made it too chilly to go outside. He was so much more relaxed, so much more open and more of a man too. Apparently, having spent lots of time in front of a computer when he was a child, he felt socially awkward for quite a while. I hoped what I did would help him. On the flip side, it could also hurt him and close him off even more. I didn’t want a future with him and he began talking about coming back to stay in Canada indefinitely.

The last night I was at his place, we were watching movies on his couch and I got quite pissed off at him not having bought a bottle of wine. I sat there quietly and he broke the silence, saying he felt really guilty. Then he finally took initiative. He ran out and went to buy a bottle. When he came back, he offered to take me out for Mexican and then he took another one. He paid. (A guy who said he would never pay for a woman. Praise Jesus!)

q

The sex didn’t quite look like that either

The last morning he told me I was the best thing that has ever happened to him. I guess it was a sweet thing to say, but I was his first.  Of course I was the best thing that has ever happened in his life. I gave him the gift of SEX.

The last day was very hard for him. Not only was he leaving me, but he was leaving the closeness that we shared and he wasn’t sure he would find it again. After all, it took him years to find me. By that, I mean a woman willing to de-virginize him.  As we kissed goodbye, I could still see him on the other platform – his eyes red. I was upset for him, but I wasn’t emotional. In a way, I was happy to be rid of him.

Theo was a great guy, he would be a good boyfriend and maybe he would definitely make some girl happy. But for me, I need someone with presence, someone with passion, someone who is strong and who knows how to take initiative. I was still on a quest to find him however long that would take and wherever he would be from.

exposedFor now, nothing is better than settling.

PS. I recently ended it with him and he wouldn’t listen when I told him to remember life is full of pain and disappointment, but you have to take risks. For me, I learned that people need to help themselves. Sure, I made him a MAN. But it doesn’t mean I made him happier. And I surely didn’t make myself happier nor more powerful. The only thing that can make me feel is actually FEELING. 

Hosting Avec Benefits (2012)

Here I recount a funny experience of CouchSurfing with a guy I was attracted to.

I was bored out of my mind. I was at work, supposedly creating school curriculum, though slacking off most of the time and looking for traveling jobs for the summer. It was May and I was once again tired of the same old.

I needed a little getaway even for just for the weekend. The idea popped up in my head as I sat in front of the computer and I discreetly opened up the CouchSurfing website (if you don’t know about it, it is used to find a host in another city/country) to see who I could stay with in Montreal. I could have stayed with a friend, but I just wanted something new and someone new to get to know. Scrolling down the list of available hosts, one name popped out at me. Florent. He was well-traveled, a  teacher, eloquent in writing and cute. And he was from France! Looking very much an artsy French man(those who smoke cigarettes in a cafe in Paris) he seemed tall with dirty blond hair and big light blue eyes. What the hell? I thought. I might as well write to him. It seemed like we would have a lot to talk about.

Maybe ze vine? Or ze museek?

He answered back almost right away in his slightly broken English and we decided on the next weekend. Don’t think that I picked him because I wanted something, but I will admit I was kind of interested in staying at his place. Some girlfriends told me I was ridiculous, though one classified it as a ‘very interesting and long date.’

I would go with the latter.

I arrived in Montreal slightly nervous. It was warm and breezy and I was wearing a sweater and jeans, my hair (and face)all messed up from the bus. I finally located his apartment, with a swirly staircase that went up to his door. I buzzed in, my heart thumping a little bit.

Finally he opened the door looking just like his photo. Tall, wearing a t-shirt and jeans, his dirty blond hair messy and his eyes bright, big and blue, smiling widely.

“Welcome!” he smiled to me and helped me carry my luggage in. “Come in!”

He showed me around the apartment and told me I would be sleeping on this huge mattress he bought ‘just for me’ as he recently moved in. We sat on the couch and I talked way too much, as I was slightly nervous and felt like I had to fill in the space with all my chatter. He smiled and nodded his head, answering with a typical French accent that seemed to form a lot of sentences into questions.

“So” he said “it is up to you if you want to hang out with me? If not, you can do what you want? But if you like? We can go to the park and tomorrow I show you some sights?”

“Sounds great actually.”

“Yes, it is a nice day. So we can grab some bikes and blankets and talk? If you like?”

“Yes, really that’s great.” I said. “I’m going to quickly take a shower and then I’ll join you.”

“Ok then. I bring you towels and everything? Oh and I give you a separate key if you like also?”

He clearly wanted me to feel comfortable and I actually did. Within minutes, I felt like I have known Florent for a few months.

I changed and put on some makeup and we biked to the park where we spread out a blanket near a fountain. I went to the store and got us some beer and some weird tasting nuts. We lay and talked for hours. About everything: history, politics, relationships, people, life in general. It was great to actually meet someone who was so well-rounded and who I could talk to about anything. Florent wasn’t a typical guy. He didn’t think typical thoughts. He didn’t try to be un-typical. He was just himself, with his own formed view on life, with his own opinions and a huge set of very random interests. For instance he did boxing and sang in the choir. He played the piano, wrote articles on politics and had a cat. Seriously. There was none of that ‘macho’ wannabe or any pretentiousness that I was so used to. The guy was actually just very comfortable in his own skin. I looked at him from afar, lounging in his black t-shirt and jeans, his hair all messy. He had that something. Definitely a French artist thing, though he didn’t smoke.

Montreal’s La Fontaine Park

He was very careful not to flirt with me, as I felt that he saw himself responsible for my ‘comfort and security’ so I decided to subtly flirt with him.

“You are my first” I told him coyly.

He seemed to process it in his head.

“I meant my first CouchSurfing host” I added with a laugh like it was a mistake. Oops! He laughed with me, feeling a little more relaxed.

At one point as we sat in the park I saw his eyes sparkle with that hint of male interest, but he quickly returned to being friendly. We biked to a restaurant where he urged me to try Tartare (which is basically raw meat). There we talked some more. Seriously, we never seemed to run out of topics.

Tartare

Tartare

It’s not like I was interested in him per ce, but I gotta admit I was a bit jealous when he began paying attention to our waitress. His bright blue eyes burned into her as he asked her questions in his beautiful fluent French and she flirted with her Québécois accent. Oh come on, I wanted to say. She is not even that good-looking and she is so young she is wearing braces.

Once we got home, rather his home, he asked me if I wanted to join him for his friends’ party. Of course he added that I didn’t have to if I didn’t want? But if I did? Would I like? And so on. Wiz French accent?

Of course I’ll come, I said.

As I was changing, he locked the door very soundly, which made me burst out laughing.

“You don’t have to do that!” I yelled through the door.

“No, I want you to feel comfortable!” he yelled back.

How very adorable.

I wore black skinny jeans and a sparkly golden top. He walked out of the other room looking at me up and down very quickly, then grabbed the keys. “You are ready?”

The party was deadly boring. It was a bunch of very French people, mostly married or in pairs, engaged in a (very French) conversation. The fact that I spoke about two percent French didn’t help matters. I gotta hand it to Florent who made me feel very comfortable by introducing me to everyone. However, I didn’t want to inconvenience him by clinging on to him, so I walked around and talked to anyone who spoke English. Everyone actually turned out to be very welcoming; especially his best friend who flirted with me and then while talking to Florent in French mentioned how jolie I was. I understand that, I told him. I know, he smiled and gave me a wink.

One girlfriend of Florent’s actually nudged him and winked at me as she wished us ‘a GOOD night’. As if it wasn’t awkward enough staying at a guy’s place who you were kind of attracted to and who seemed attracted to you. And even if he wasn’t – there was a girl in his apartment! He didn’t even have to ask me to come in so I could ‘see his beautiful view’.

One of his gay friends suggested we head to a lesbian club. Why not? I said. Let’s. Yep, it was a little strange and I actually got hit on by a beautiful girl, which I must admit was flattering! The best part is that she walked up to Florent and told him she was interested in me.  I beamed for hours.

We danced close to each other, but I felt awkward beyond belief. This wasn’t a guy I met in a club, or a friend. He was someone I had to stay with! OK, I already mentioned that, but I’m emphasizing it just so you get the strangeness of the situation. Granted, I put myself in this situation willingly.

When we got back, I put on my t-shirt and short shorts and sat on the bed-mattress combing my hair out. I swear I wasn’t trying to lure him in or anything. Maybe just a little bit. Florent looked me up and down and not very discreetly this time. The French seducer seemed to be waking up in him.

tam tam TAM!

tam tam TAM!

“Ok, so I go take a shower?” he said. “Good night?”

“Yes, good night” I smiled, continuing to comb my hair.

“Ok” he nodded to himself or me and shut the door.

Minutes later he stepped out of the bathroom and wished me good night again. “Ok, so good night, Mia”

“Good night, Florent.”

He closed the door behind him only to emerge minutes later.

“I forgot something?” he smiled to me and awkwardly shuffled into my ‘bedroom’ to get ‘something’. “You are okay?” he asked. “Did you have a good night?”

The whole thing was starting to get pretty funny, but it was still quite awkward. I wanted him to make a move already, but how could he? He didn’t know if I was interested and it was my ‘safety’ that was at stake after all!

“I had a great time. Thanks.”

He mumbled something or other to himself or me and wished me goodnight again. I chuckled and lay down on my humongous mattress to sleep. The light was off in the room and I was assuming he went to sleep. Wouldn’t it be funny, I thought, if he came out again?

And as if on cue, the door opened and Florent emerged. He smiled apologetically at me.

“I forgot to get my water?” he murmured and shuffled past me.

This time I couldn’t stop smiling. It was getting hilarious.

I'm just a girl, standing in front of a boy, asking him to love her

I’m just a girl, standing in front of a boy, asking him to love her

For some reason or other, this really reminded me of the movie “Notting Hill” and the scene where Julia Roberts comes into Hugh Grant’s room at night. This is why I randomly blurted out:

“You remind me of Hugh Grant.”

Why Hugh Grant? It was the weirdest comparison as the guy looked nothing like the English actor. At this point though, I think I could have told Florent he looked like Jackie Chan and he still would have acted as if that made sense. All he wanted to do was stay in the room. That was obvious.

“Yes?” He said and paused near me. “Okay, if you could pick one actress that looked like you, who would it be?”

Was this the conversation we were having at 4am in the morning?

“I don’t know” I mumbled. “Who do you think I look like?”

I was just as much of a retard as him. Someone clearly had to make a move here.

We went back and forth like two mumbling fools in a land of retardation until I couldn’t do it anymore.

“Florent. Did you really come to get water?” I awkwardly smiled to him.

“Why?” he asked.

“Nothing. Forget about it.”

“No, what?”

“Forget about it.”

“If you are referring to what I think you are referring to?” he looked at the lamp on the table. “Then, yes, I did want to? Kiss you?”

I wish I could describe just how adorably French and awkward he sounded at the moment. Especially the kissing me part.

“But” he continued “I was scared you feel strange and want to leave?”

“Well, I’m not going to leave if you kiss me” I smiled.

“Okay then” he smiled and finally put his damn water down, leaning in to kiss me. We kissed and kissed, over and over again and I was getting those pings of excitement at the bottom of my stomach.

“I propose” he said after a while( Yes, I actually made out with a guy who says “I propose”) “That you sleep in my bed. We will not have sex just, you know, sleep together?”

“No, I’m okay. I’ll sleep here” I said. I was exhausted and tired and the last thing I wanted to do was share a bed with anyone. So he wished me goodnight, for real this time, and went to sleep.

He woke up before me the next day because he had choir. No comment here. Anyways, I woke up later and cooked some breakfast in my underwear. Then, I went to explore Montreal and think about whether I wanted to have sex with him or not. Normal people just do it spontaneously. I had to talk to myself about it first. My reason told me no. I told me no. Everything told me no. I mean I didn’t even know the guy and I wasn’t smitten with him. Sure, I liked him. I had a wonderful time with him. But I wouldn’t go so far as to say I wanted to rip his clothes off. In conclusion, it was a no.

I nervously walked into the apartment and saw him lounging about, reading a book. He asked me how my day was and whether I was interested in going to eat with him that evening.

“But if you have any other plans, it is okay?”

Nothing at all about last night. Leave it to me to leave coy and subtle out the door since I have no patience for it.

“So do you feel awkward about last night?” I asked. Nothing like a question about awkwardness to make it feel more awkward.

“No” he looked at me. “Why, should I?”
“No, no. You shouldn’t”

He waited a beat.

“Well I do now a bit. Do you regret it?”

“No!” I exclaimed. “Of course not”

“Ok, then it is not awkward” he smiled.

We talked some more. He played me the piano. I sat on his bed while he made me listen to opera. Then he sang me something in French. I made him feel my diaphragm as I breathed, just so he could finally make a damn move as I couldn’t listen to anymore opera and singing. Then he leaned in and kissed me. Suddenly he was on the bed, my legs wrapped around him. We kissed and kissed.

Très romantique

Très romantique

“Okay” he said when he caught his breath. “Let’s go eat something?”

It was raining outside and he held my hand as we walked down the empty wet streets. Before that, he asked me what my favorite color was so that he could ‘wear it?’ I burst out laughing:

“From CouchSurfing to a relationship, Florent? How did we get here?”

He got us a bottle of wine and we ate in a loud Italian restaurant. He kissed me under the rain. Afterwards, we sat in a bar talking, as he caressed my knees. It really felt like we were together. Not like we met yesterday. I could talk to him for hours about anything. I loved that he would never answer with a standard response like ‘cool’ or ‘awesome’. Instead he would think about it and give his own opinion on it.

When we got home, I put on my ‘come hither’ shorts though I wasn’t technically planning on having sex with him. We did hang out in his room. And on his bed. So really, I could have just thrown my careful and well planned out resolution out the window by this point.

And then he put on the cheesiest romantic French music ever and I burst out laughing.

“Where is the champagne and the Eiffel Tower?” I asked.

“It is Joe Dassin. You do not like?” he asked.5099752049127

“How many girls do you use this on?” I asked him, raising one eyebrow.

“Just you actually” he smiled. “Ok, I will turn it off”

“Please do. I’m not sure I can keep a straight face if you are trying to romance me to French music”

He laughed. “You know if I met you in a bar, I would have come up to you. It was just very strange situation having you here. One of my girl friends was very uncomfortable when she stayed with a guy? So when I saw your photos and told her I found you very attractive, she said to not do anything at all. So I didn’t. Until now, I mean”

And yes, okay, I ended up having sex with him. And it wasn’t the romantic French music that seduced me. I’m not sure if it was his wonderful seduction skills either. I don’t really know why I had sex with him. Was the sex good? Yes, but I felt like I jumped into it a little bit fast. I’m not sure if real attraction was there or if I just loved spending time with him. The thing that threw me off was when afterwards he turned to me.

“Were you nervous?” he asked.

“What do you mean?”

“ I do not know. You seemed very uncomfortable. I thought you would be a little bit crazier.”

Excuse me?

fifty-shades-of-grey-cac1d39d5bb5c20810b1314bcbf61dee35d8219b-s6-c30What do you say to that? Maybe, it was because I just met you? Or possibly because I wasn’t that sexually drawn to you? Or maybe, just maybe, you mister are no Christian Grey in your seduction skills?

Instead I should have gotten an Oscar for the next performance. I felt disgusted with myself. Why act instead of saying the truth?

We did end up spending the night together this time and finally got out of bed sometime during noon the next day. He took me to get us some typical French brunch and then I kissed him goodbye.

“We will stay in touch” he smiled, but I wasn’t so sure about it.

I will be honest in saying that he didn’t contact me when I got back home. Instead I wrote him a message and he wrote one back. He was leaving for Europe for the next two months, so we wouldn’t see each other for some time, he said, but maybe in the fall?

By this point I was so mad that I didn’t want to stay in any contact with him. We will not see each other in the fall, I thought. Here we were, so close to each other and now we were polite strangers who could barely exchange two words.

Yes, this entry was going to have a negative ending and a little note about how French men are assholes.

But life is life and people are people. Instead, he wrote me a message recently saying he wanted me to accept a job in his city so I could be near him. And I ended up inviting him to visit me.

This is not romance nor is this a long distance or rather quite a short distance relationship. This is just something. A nice time to spend with someone who means something to you. What that something is,  I still don’t know. And who ever knows? Maybe this time the sex will not be ‘so uncomfortable?’ or maybe I will kick him out before we even get to it. But I do think that in life, we have to at least try. Hey, if it fails, at least there would be a great story to share.

And oh, I got one great review from Couchsurfing!

* Even though the story has developed since I last wrote this post, I decided to add a little ‘note’  instead of designating yet more space for this since I do not believe this guy is worth it. After Florent came to visit me and we spent quite a few nice days together, we decided to maybe work something out in the future. However, his ‘feelings'(I put them in quotation marks because I no longer believe he is capable of them) escalated so much and so rapidly, he decided to refer to me as his girlfriend. Then he began looking for teaching jobs for me as a way to lure me into Montreal. Ok, he wasn’t necessarily luring me since I wanted to move, but he definitely was the interested party.

After his second visit to Toronto, I realized that not only did I have little feelings for him, but he was quite cheap and not much of a gentleman. He wasn’t a bad guy at all. But he didn’t believe in doing one nice, romantic thing for me.  After he left and I didn’t get the desired job in Montreal, he began pushing me to come visit him. At this point I had no money since as you may have guessed – I was and am an unemployed teacher. He never offered to pay and when I mentioned that, we got into a row about money, which in my opinion is just tacky. In his opinion, if I wanted to see him I could have asked him to ‘help’ me out, not assume he would offer. While I could see his side of the argument somewhat, I also realized then and there that I needed a gentleman not someone who would argue about money with a girl. My stupid move came when I did in fact go to Montreal to visit him.

How did the weekend go? Well.. in short it was miserable. He didn’t take me out to ONE real restaurant and when I suggested eating out he acted surprised and mentioned that we would be eating dinner at his friends’ place at 7pm. This was 3pm. We only ate breakfast. And went boxing. My clothing was ‘too short’ (even it would almost reach my knees) and he would constantly point out ‘elegant’ girls, one of whom sported purple pants and brown boots. He would get offended at everything and when he didn’t want to have sex with me on the second day of my stay (out of three), I’ve had enough. This was not romantic. It wasn’t beautiful. I didn’t feel like a woman. We had completely different interests. He would prefer someone in running shoes   camping with him in the woods. I would prefer someone who would take me to a hotel in Hawaii or yes, also someone I could backpack with.. But that’s all I would ever be with Florent – a backpacking buddy he has sex with, where money is split equally, and I may as well be a man. His deep thoughts and analyzing that I initially found so charming and ‘French!’ has now shown me he was critical, difficult and set in his mind. He wanted me when I was happy and fun. He couldn’t take any sort of disagreement and confrontation. He watched me become upset and literally stepped away. He couldn’t even hug or kiss me.

We ended it then and there, not without some crying from me, even though now I cannot understand how he even deserved any of that. The funny thing is, even though we wrote each other a handwritten letter at the end, he has not contacted me since.

So this is my advice to you girls: if a guy shows you a trait that you ignore, believe me, it will come to later bite you. Florent didn’t speak to me for four months after we had sex the first time I met him. Afterwards he never even asked me how I got home. Lesson? This would and did repeat. A man always shows you who he is. It is up to you whether you accept it or not.

By the way, do you still think French men are so damn romantic?

About me!

I’m a 28 year old female who resides in Toronto, Canada.  Originally from Moscow, Russia and with a real love of cultures, languages and traveling, I have developed a trend for dating guys from abroad, mostly centering around Europe, Central/South America and Australia. I don’t know whether it’s their charm or accent, but ever since the first story in my blog, I have developed a strong attraction to foreign guys, and it seems by some law of attraction, they to me. That is not to say I would date anyone from France, just because they seem to be very ‘romantic’, or an Italian because they are great at ‘seduction’ (because it can be just the opposite actually) but I’ll be honest and say hearing an accent does pique my curiosity. Greatly.

However, though sometimes sexy, the downside to this attraction would be a lack of English, a different culture, a pointless long distance relationship or a lack of documents. In my blog, I recount stories of romance, disappointment, moments of hilarity and ridiculousness. From long distance relationships, to vacation flings to bad dates, this blog will cover parts of my love life, with as much honesty as I can possibly muster. The only part I changed were the names of all the guys, in order to protect their privacy, should they ever see it. Of course if they did, most would have to buy a plane ticket to strangle me with their bare hands! Either way, I wouldn’t want to risk it and embarrass the poor shmucks.

Please feel more than free to leave your comments, thoughts, constructive criticism and your own anecdotes on my page. I cannot wait to hear from you!

Mia