Click here to read the previous post, Adjusting to Life in Spain: How the Fuck Do You Order Wine?
I didn’t even think about dating in these past five months since I moved to Spain because, frankly, I was dating Madrid! I was in love with the country! And I didn’t want to be distracted from this beautiful relationship I was building.
Because whether any potential relationship went well or poorly, I knew it would change my perspective of this new city.
But then I started seeing lovers walking around holding hands. I tried not to stare at more than one couple kissing passionately right out in the open. I visually eavesdropped on the looks of love and tenderness that passed between sweethearts.
And that made me think about how fun it would be to share some of these incredible experiences I’m having with someone – with a romantic someone, that is. I’ve certainly been having a great time with the new, incredible friends I’ve made, but I can’t seem to convince any of them to:
Source: Giphy
But then it hit me: If I dated here in Spain, I’d be dating in Spanish. In my non-native language. Over which I have no control. And still make plenty of goofy mistakes.
For example:
I’ve tried ordering a “soap sandwich” (bocadillo de jabón) instead of a “ham sandwich” (bocadillo de jamón)
I’ve blushed and told someone that “I’m so pregnant!” (Estoy tan embarazada) instead of “I’m so embarrassed!” (Estoy tan avergonzada)
and I’ve asked the last person in a queue “Are you in the ass?” (Estás en el culo?) instead of “Are you in the line?” (Estás es la cola?)
So how the hell was dating someone in Spanish going to work???
All my friends were saying that it doesn’t matter that I don’t speak Spanish fluently, but it does. To me, anyway. Because the person I am in English is a very specific person, and it has to do with language and writing and reading. It’s extremely important that I be able to communicate to people with the exact right words so that we understand each other clearly. Yes, there’s pointing and pantomime and exaggerated facial expressions (not to mention the physical language of love <wink, wink>), but I’m not interested in a dating an improv group member.
I used to be very shy and get so tongue-tied that I literally was unable to express myself, which caused people to misunderstand me or even get mad (“For christ’s sake, just spit it out!”). So I can’t imagine not having the ability to express my nuanced thoughts and emotions and fears and humor clearly to someone else. Or if I have an urgent question like “Where’s the fire extinguisher?!!” I don’t want to just throw a bunch of words at them and hope they’re skilled at verbal word search puzzles.
And then one of my friends told me about a recent dating experience that sounded fun, and I thought: Fuck it. I’ve always been good at Charades. And honest self-expression and clear conversation are probably overrated, anyway.
Two days later I’d set up a profile on a local dating app and soon the indecipherable messages from interested Spaniards were flooding in! Although, to be fair, the head-scratching opening lines weren’t solely because of the language barrier. Many of these hombres had the same problem as American men: thinking that “hey” is going to make me immediately snap him up lest I lose out to the hordes of women he was obviously seducing with his masterful language.
Other mind-boggling opening lines I received included:
“¿Y si nos casamos?” (“What if we get married?” – the very first message from this guy!)
“Hola”, “Holaaaa”, “Hoooola” (variations of “hi”)
“Q pedazo de boca bonita” (Literally: “What a piece of beautiful mouth”, though I assume it translates to “What a beautiful mouth”)
“Hola. ¿Qué tal?” (“Hi, how are you?” – at least this guy used proper punctuation, but still…)
“Gracias” (“Thank you” – for what??)
“Se puede” ("one can" or “it is possible" – to do what, I will never know)
But quite possibly my favorite opening line from a man on this dating site has got to be: “Mañana pongo el despertador para que Angelines vaya al simply y compre puerros y zanahorias para hacer un puré de puerros y zanahorias. Hoy no pudo ir y no hubo puré.”
Translation: “Tomorrow I'm setting the alarm for Angelines to go to Simply and buy leeks and carrots to make a leek and carrot puree. Today she [he?] couldn't go and there was no puree.”
Boy, was I in for an interesting ride.
Then I met a guy who actually read my profile and asked me questions and was open about himself, too. A couple days later we met at a local taberna for “una cerveza y croquetas” (“a beer and croquettes”, so wonderfully Spanish!). In those first twenty minutes I basically spoke like a toddler on crack. My Spanish comprehension took a nose-dive and I was just desperately (and nervously, I might add) throwing any Spanish words at him I could remember in an attempt to maintain the conversation.
Him: De dónde eres? (Where are you from?)
Me: Estoy, soy de Unidos Estad, no Estados Unidos, pues actualidad, no ehhhhh, en realidad eres de I mean soy de Canada too. (I am, I’m from States United, no United States, well currently, no ummmm, in reality you are I mean I am from Canada too.”
<mops sweat off forehead and chugs beer>
Within about an hour, my Spanish got a little better, but after the second hour of concentrating like I’ve never concentrated before, my brain exploded and, near tears of frustration, I told him I couldn’t continue anymore. Fortunately, he spoke English and we talked for a couple more hours on my turf. Unfortunately, by the end of the evening although I’d had a nice time, there simply was no connection, at least on my part.
I wondered if all dates in Spanish were going to make my brain implode.
After fielding a few more so-so online conversations – including with one guy who asked random things like “¿Tu abuelo estuvo en Juno?” (“Was your grandfather in Juno?”) but wouldn’t answer my questions because he was “keeping the mystery alive” – a man reached out to me.
His words were thoughtful, he wrote well, and he’d clearly read what I’d written about myself, ending his first message with “almost every line you wrote in your profile makes me want to know more about you.” I checked out his profile (his writing gave me a sense of who he was, we shared similar interests, and there were 5-6 photos that I found very attractive), responded to him and then our online conversation took off like a rocket.
By the time we met about five days later, I was super nervous. Not just because I liked him (which, by the way, I very much did), but because writing and reading in Spanish is about eight hundred times easier for me than listening to and speaking it.
When I write, I can take my time to think of the words and the formation of sentences (the English language uses a different syntax, so to translate to Spanish, I’m constantly having to think of the end of the sentence first). I can look words up in the dictionary, use a translator for complex sentences or implore ChatGPT: “I understand these words, but what does this sentence actually mean???”
But in person? I have none of these tools. Then take this default deficit of mine and add a healthy dose of ambient noise, rapid speaking and a lack of context for the many tangents a good conversation takes. I was afraid that after our incredible exchange in writing during the last few days he’d hear me talk and decide he was not interested in dating a toddler on crack.
So even though it was about 8° Celsius (46° Fahrenheit) outside, I was sweating as I walked to the taberna to meet him.
We spent six hours together that night, talking non-stop (in Spanish!!) until the waiter kicked us out because they were closed. The reason I could understand him pretty well, certainly well enough, is because he spoke clearly and a bit more slowly – with me, anyway, not with the waiter – and was extremely patient as I sat there, face contorted, peering up into my mental Spanish-English dictionary for the right words (or any words!).
And, as I walked home afterwards, grinning into the dark night, I realized: My brain hadn’t exploded. In fact, I felt energized. The interest and attraction was mutual, and we saw each other three more times.
Then my existential crisis kicked in.
Who am I in Spanish if I can’t fully communicate and am reduced to simple or broken sentences? Does my quick wit come across? Does my humor translate at all? Am I perceived as intelligent or kind of dumb? Sweet or superficial? Thoughtful or simply boring? And worst of all, do I sound like Pirini Scleroso (of SCTV)???
I was horrified to think that I might sound like one of those people who think they’re smart but then try to show off said brilliance by talking about quantum physics by describing it as “cool” and “sciencey” and “like, totally, crazy.”
And so I’ve realized that the hardest part of dating in Spanish is not when I message guys or even go on first dates, it’s when I connect with one particular man and go on a second, third and fourth date with him. And each time we sit next to each other in a taberna or café trying to learn about the other, I find myself desperately trying to describe the nuances of my family’s Christmas traditions. Or explain how I accidentally got into the cybersecurity industry and became a podcast host who interviewed CISOs. Or recount a teenage memory that includes rollerskating into a brick wall and then being carted off to the local animal hospital.
How do you paint a picture of your life when your color palette only contains red and blue?
This man I’ve started dating is very patient with me as I struggle to express myself, which I’m immensely grateful for. But then he talks and…I only understand 75% of what he’s saying — at best. When he invites me into his memories or answers a question I’ve asked, I have to use every brain cell I have just to grasp the nouns, verbs and adjectives and then realize the next day as I think about our conversation that there were no brain cells left to actually absorb the story. So I find myself asking him the same things over and over.
And worst of all, after our first kiss he whispered something sweet to me… I gazed into his eyes and said… “Qué?” I could practically hear the needle scratching across a record as I instantly killed the romantic vibe.
But I will say this: He keeps coming back and I keep saying yes. So, we shall see where this grand adventure of dating in my non-native language takes me! I just hope by the time I’m fluent in Spanish we don’t realize that we have nothing in common!
Click here to read the next post, Adjusting to Life in Spain: [TBD]
Note: All photos taken or created (using DALL-E) by Selena Templeton, unless otherwise noted.
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