We aren't good on the phone. We have trouble understanding each other's accents at times. He doesn't understand all of my sarcasm. I have trouble fully believing it when he tells me something nice, mainly when it sounds like a scene from Love Actually. I can barely pronounce his full name, let alone those of his friends and family. He has trouble reading english, I can't even begin to read Albanian. I am in mountains of debt from education, he left school because there weren't loans. He's religious, I am not. He doesn't believe in lying, not that anyone does but he's a regular honest Abe, never told a lie. And anyone that knows me or has read this blog for more than a day knows, I have told my fair share, sometimes even for fun (lying about your name in Vegas is completely legit in my mind). We are worlds apart in everyway, I suspect we are more different than either of us realize at this point.
That laundry list of reasons should be enough to make me turn and walk away before things get complicated but I've always been a sucker for a man that makes me laugh combine that with an intense stare, a kiss on the forehead, and an understated strength and the list is gone. Socioeconomic factors like education and language barriers may win, this may be doomed from the start but for now, I will be smitten with the foreigner who effortlessly scoops me up and carries me up the stairs of the tube station (it's a lot of stairs and I am not an easy scoop!)
After a lunch and movie date with Lawrence, I got an expected call from Beni, he's back to work and sadly not at my beck and call anymore. I haven't seen him since Friday so the offer for a drink crushed any hope me staying at home all week. We met in Holborn, kissed hello, and I was introduced to guess what....another Albanian! Shocker I know, this co-worker couldn't believe Beni "pulled a cute American" (his words not mine). Over drinks, the friend questioned the fact that Beni had actually picked me up, why I was out in a mostly Eastern European neighborhood when clearly I belong in Zone 1 (central London), and what it was like growing up in the US. Odd fact, the Albanians have an obsession with Canada, every one I met wants to go there, not NYC, Canada...who would have guessed....no offense to Canadians. As Manchester United played, the friend gave me a history lesson, normally I don't want to talk history or politics over pints, but I couldn't stop asking questions. I learned more in 20 minutes about Communism and the struggles of living under it, than I have in 20 years of school. Friend hasn't been back home in 12 years, he basically had to sneak out of the country and now cannot return because he has no passport. He has to wait another year for British citizenship, then he can go home without any consequences. I have never been so glad to have grown up in the US, we have our problems but nothing compared to some of the stories I have heard from people over here. Sex trafficing, running from a communist regeme, forced military service, and leaving home to work at the age of 12 are outside our American bubble and I am thankful for it, especially as a woman. Although things aren't equal, no where near equal for everyone, at least I have options besides childbirth, cooking, and raising a football team.... (not that all Albanian women are forced to stay home or other Eastern European countries for that matter)
Friend and I got into a little heated debate about the role and responsibilies of women. He is at least 10 years older than Beni, it's amazing the difference between one generations thoughts to another. Beni stopped us before I really lost it, I wasn't trying to bash his culture by any means and he wasn't trying to bash ours, there were clear cultural differences about how we were raised. His sisters did not grow up hearing they could be President. After our debate, he looked at Beni and told him his girlfriend is funny and cute, he looked at me and asked if I had any American friends I could hook him up with.
Beni and I said goodbye and headed to my flat, stopping first for a bottle of wine. Over wine, I disclosed the blog, he didn't give a shit. Determined to not let the blog come in between me and another guy, I pulled it up on my computer. He asked what I wrote about him and I pulled one up for him to read. He didn't read it, he didn't care, he told me that's my thing and kissed me. He told me about his last relationship, I told him about my string of meaningless dates back home. There wasn't even a hint of anger when he told me he was cheated on, brushing it off as "we weren't meant to be".
Vulnerable from the conversation and the wine, we crawled into bed. Twin beds are not conducive to banging, especially when they creak with every innocent movement. It didn't stop us but it did stop my suitemate from sleeping, that was an ackward knock on the door. I feel its even considering the flutes, I apologized and said goodnight. Beni and I moved to the floor and tried to not disturb. After we were finished, he stayed laying on top of me, brushing my hair out of my face, kissing me softly on the tip of my nose. I tried not to laugh when he told me I was beautiful, he is either honest or a huge fan of American chick flicks, I won't hold either against him. We stayed on the floor for another hour or two using up a pack of condoms before crawling back into bed. I didn't wake when he got ready for work at 5:30. He kissed me goodbye and headed to work on an hour of sleep.
That laundry list of reasons should be enough to make me turn and walk away before things get complicated but I've always been a sucker for a man that makes me laugh combine that with an intense stare, a kiss on the forehead, and an understated strength and the list is gone. Socioeconomic factors like education and language barriers may win, this may be doomed from the start but for now, I will be smitten with the foreigner who effortlessly scoops me up and carries me up the stairs of the tube station (it's a lot of stairs and I am not an easy scoop!)
After a lunch and movie date with Lawrence, I got an expected call from Beni, he's back to work and sadly not at my beck and call anymore. I haven't seen him since Friday so the offer for a drink crushed any hope me staying at home all week. We met in Holborn, kissed hello, and I was introduced to guess what....another Albanian! Shocker I know, this co-worker couldn't believe Beni "pulled a cute American" (his words not mine). Over drinks, the friend questioned the fact that Beni had actually picked me up, why I was out in a mostly Eastern European neighborhood when clearly I belong in Zone 1 (central London), and what it was like growing up in the US. Odd fact, the Albanians have an obsession with Canada, every one I met wants to go there, not NYC, Canada...who would have guessed....no offense to Canadians. As Manchester United played, the friend gave me a history lesson, normally I don't want to talk history or politics over pints, but I couldn't stop asking questions. I learned more in 20 minutes about Communism and the struggles of living under it, than I have in 20 years of school. Friend hasn't been back home in 12 years, he basically had to sneak out of the country and now cannot return because he has no passport. He has to wait another year for British citizenship, then he can go home without any consequences. I have never been so glad to have grown up in the US, we have our problems but nothing compared to some of the stories I have heard from people over here. Sex trafficing, running from a communist regeme, forced military service, and leaving home to work at the age of 12 are outside our American bubble and I am thankful for it, especially as a woman. Although things aren't equal, no where near equal for everyone, at least I have options besides childbirth, cooking, and raising a football team.... (not that all Albanian women are forced to stay home or other Eastern European countries for that matter)
Friend and I got into a little heated debate about the role and responsibilies of women. He is at least 10 years older than Beni, it's amazing the difference between one generations thoughts to another. Beni stopped us before I really lost it, I wasn't trying to bash his culture by any means and he wasn't trying to bash ours, there were clear cultural differences about how we were raised. His sisters did not grow up hearing they could be President. After our debate, he looked at Beni and told him his girlfriend is funny and cute, he looked at me and asked if I had any American friends I could hook him up with.
Beni and I said goodbye and headed to my flat, stopping first for a bottle of wine. Over wine, I disclosed the blog, he didn't give a shit. Determined to not let the blog come in between me and another guy, I pulled it up on my computer. He asked what I wrote about him and I pulled one up for him to read. He didn't read it, he didn't care, he told me that's my thing and kissed me. He told me about his last relationship, I told him about my string of meaningless dates back home. There wasn't even a hint of anger when he told me he was cheated on, brushing it off as "we weren't meant to be".
Vulnerable from the conversation and the wine, we crawled into bed. Twin beds are not conducive to banging, especially when they creak with every innocent movement. It didn't stop us but it did stop my suitemate from sleeping, that was an ackward knock on the door. I feel its even considering the flutes, I apologized and said goodnight. Beni and I moved to the floor and tried to not disturb. After we were finished, he stayed laying on top of me, brushing my hair out of my face, kissing me softly on the tip of my nose. I tried not to laugh when he told me I was beautiful, he is either honest or a huge fan of American chick flicks, I won't hold either against him. We stayed on the floor for another hour or two using up a pack of condoms before crawling back into bed. I didn't wake when he got ready for work at 5:30. He kissed me goodbye and headed to work on an hour of sleep.
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