Tuesday, February 14, 2012

The Language of Laska

In honor of Valentine's Day, I thought I would share with all of you my most recent adventures of the romantic variety.

A few weeks ago, we were out trolling the city for respectable men (let it be said that trolling is a very appropriate word here, as that is about all one is likely to find) in unrespectable places, namely Nebe (which means Heaven. Which is ironic, because Nebe is a cavelike subterranean mecca for terribly frightening characters, and tourists). It was in this den of iniquity after probably too many overpriced beers that I met who we shall refer to as CB1. The following is a summary of our conversation...

"I love you. Your eyes are beautiful. You are very sexy - not like other fat Americans. I cannot wait to have a family. My heart was broken five months ago by an evil Russian and I have met no other, until now. Now I do not have a problem to care." This was followed by some extremely unfortunate dancing, during which time I had to look away to stop from laughing/cringing. But he seemed very nice & so I agreed to see him again.

We meet up later the next week and I appreciate that he's actually put together a plan. Seems very nice and grown up and mature. We walk around the city a bit before heading inside for some wine, and then he cooks me dinner. I notice that the conversation is quickly turning into very Serious Important Discussions territory and am trying to derail this when boom: Will you be my girlfriend?

There are about 2109382098 reasons why this is completely and utterly wrong. Let's start with the obvious. First, we are not in middle school. No one asks that. What's next, asking if you can hold my hand? Secondly, this is our first date. I don't know you. I am not about to commit to a relationship with a stranger. Thirdly, where is the mystery?! Half the fun of dating is the excitement, the unknown. The "does he like me" mini panics and the thrill of the chase.

Obviously, my answer was no. Instead, I proposed that we hang out a few more times and see how things go. Though, in my head, this was already the seal of death. Dom dom dommmmm. And yet, when a few days had passed, I agreed to see CB1 again - largely in an effort to talk myself out of feeling like a huge bitch. Here is a nice, interesting, intelligent man and I am completely irked by him? Had a terrible feeling this said more about what was wrong with me than him.

That feeling didn't last.

I can respect cultural differences. I understand that Czechs and Americans have much different approaches to dating. I get that we have completely different views on things. I cannot get though why the following is acceptable: pop quizzes on Czech history. Pop quizzes on Canadian geography (?). Repeated American fat jokes. Numerous conversations on why our friends have not met yet. Again with the girlfriend thing. Just, enough. The smitten kitten needs to slow his roll.

There is obviously much much more to this story but I cannot bring myself to share all the horrid details.

I hope you all have a wonderful Valentine's Day full of love and chocolate! Objetí a polibky - hugs & kisses!

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