He Called Me Fat

The smoothness of Caribbean men can only be described as that: smooth. Yesterday I was sitting with a new friend of mine who I happen to be interested in, and he in me. We were having a beer at a local pub when the conversation turned to age. He is 29 and I am younger than that. He told me that when he first met me, he would have guessed me at 21, but seeing my eyes, he could see the years on me.

What?

Did he just call me old??

He of course didn’t mean it that way. He only meant that he could tell that I was not the fresh-faced 21-year-old that I once was, and that I have more years and knowledge (and probably stress) and that I don’t actually look 21 when you look closer. He appreciates that I’m not 21 and don’t have the mind-set of a 21-year-old girl anymore. (If you are 21, or still behave 21, that comment was not meant to offend you. Be who you are and live every moment at whatever age you want to!)

It pains me to say that I agree with him, I don’t look 21, but how he managed to tell me I look my age, and still keep me wanting to see him the next day by the time the glasses emptied, is beyond me. No, I was not drunk. I only had one, and while some people in my life would tell me that sniffing a bottle cap gets me drunk, it really doesn’t.

Later on we were BBMing when he made the remark that he likes girls who have a little flesh on them. My response was “Are you calling me fat? LOL. Don’t answer that”.

Let me just say for the record that I am not fat. Not remotely. I have curves, and I’m not a skinny little thing, but I certainly can’t be described as fat. We laughed off both comments and he told me that he doesn’t like really skinny girls, which somewhat makes me feel better and re-affirms my belief that while guys might fantasize about being with a model, in the end, they all want a woman with a normal woman body, cellulite and all.

So ladies, while your man might not be a as smooth as Mr. Caribbean to be able to call you old and fat in one day, and still have you thinking about them and wanting to see them the next day, if they tell you its what they like, believe them. Men appreciate a woman with a head on her shoulders and little something to grab onto around the waist (or booty).

And gents, please, please don’t try to tell your woman you like how old she looks or that she’s got a little junk in the trunk. Many women are not nearly as secure with themselves as I am and might get offended if you tell them they’ve aged and things don’t look the way they did at 21!

No Bueno

As I said in my last blog, I am in Spain. I have been here for a few months now, so I feel the need to make a little comparison between the approaches of men on the street in Southern Ontario, and those here on the streets of Barcelona.

The men in Toronto, where I’ve spent most of my serious man-noticing time, either avoid eye-contact all together, or they say something under their breath at you like “hey, gorgeous” or “you’re looking good” or the like. It’s pretty much something that you can turn, say “thank you” to and then keep walking on your way to whatever you’re going to (hopefully a date with a man who is much better looking than the one complimenting you at Queen and Victoria or a streetcar stop).

The men here in Barca are very different however. I can’t always understand everything that they say, but they certainly do ask questions. I’m pretty sure I’ve been asked where I’m going, and if I have plans. These are things that I just walk on past and pretend that I think they’re talking to other people. I know I’d get sucked into a conversation if I even looked over at them. Spanish men are just that smooth. I can’t let on that I can’t understand them because that would just encourage them and their gang of friends to be even more crude, or worse, to come try to talk to me in English. That would be their in. You can’t show any weakness in this country, or you’ll end up talking to someone on the street for 15 minutes. They just don’t let you get away! I once had a guy walk all the way to the metro with me, asking for my phone number in Spanish. I don’t speak Spanish. And he didn’t speak English. How would we talk on the phone if we can’t get through something in person?!

The other thing that Spanish men do here, and I can’t say it’s the young men, because it’s mostly older men that do this, but they growl and hiss. And grunt. The grunting is the worst. You’ll just be walking along, to class or to the market, and you walk past a man and all you hear is “uuuHH”… ew. It’s just plain creepy, and someone should tell them that. It’s not just me that gets these sounds either. Every girl I know in this town has told a similar story of being on their way somewhere, by themselves or with a few friends, and they pass a man and hear “ssssssssssssssss”. Even if you’re walking with a man, or a couple of friends of both genders, “rarrrrh”. Gross!

I know I don’t only speak for myself when I say that hearing someone growl at me is not going to make me want to turn and strike up a conversation. I know that’s not generally the purpose of the grunt or growl, but it’s the most bizarre way to compliment someone. Half the time I don’t even look all that great either. A t-shirt and jeans isn’t dressed up for me (I know it is for some people, but track pants aren’t my everyday wear anymore, and I’ve worked in an office; jeans are casual) So when I am going to meet a friend for coffee or to pick up some fruit at the market, and I hear a hiss coming from the man I just passed, I just feel even more self-conscious about the way I look and actually feel less attractive when they’ve done it, or like I want to ugly it up even more just so the next man doesn’t do the same thing!

Don’t get me wrong, if I’m looking good and feeling good, I definitely eat up the compliment like bravas in a tapas bar. I am still a woman who likes to know my effect on men.

My suspicion is that it’s not just men here in Barca that behave this way, and that many of the men in romance language countries do this (besides possibly France, they’re pretty posh up there). My warning for any woman travelling to a country where sexuality is not taboo: be careful, and be fair-warned that you will have a sound track that isn’t on your iPod no matter where you go. Enjoy!

Roger That

This may make me sound like I’ve started to hunt down a certain type of man in my hometown of Toronto, but it’s really not true.

I met a Brit. He’s a pilot. I met him while travelling and we ended up hanging out a couple of times.

What he taught me is something I already knew, and something people need to learn about themselves. I learned that I like attention, and I like to be around the person I’m seeing. I want to accidently find myself in a relationship, because I just can’t stop wanting to call and talk to this person, or see them. This knowledge of me was first introduced to me a few years ago when I refused to admit that I was in a relationship with someone until my best friend told me I was in fact dating him. I finally admitted to myself that I was dating him. I couldn’t stop calling him, seeing him, having dinners, picking him up from work… kissing him. I fell into that relationship. But the best part was, he was my best friend at that time. I could tell him anything and I could be myself around him all the time.

Needless to say, things didn’t work out with him. It was a question of our lives going in different directions, and he’s still one of my very good friends, but being together just wasn’t going to work out.

So this little tidbit about me has come to light once again. This pilot is great, and we have a great time together. We make fun of each other’s accents and phrases. We laugh a lot together and he makes me tea. But he’s always leaving. He leaves five times a week. And when he’s not leaving, he is usually at home, visiting his family. (Oh yes, let me explain, I’m not in Canada right now. I’m in Spain). He pretty well hates Spain, and anywhere that isn’t England, so he’s always trying to get out.

I have a feeling that there’s more to it than just that he hates Spain, but that’s the other thing: I can’t ask him why he really leaves. We aren’t at a place yet that I could actually ask him why he leaves, and not sound like a crazy, possessive woman. I’m not that person, believe me, but I do think that when two people are spending time together, and one of them suddenly has to leave, that they should give a little more of an explanation than “something happened, I have to go”, before they jump on a plane.

I think it’s important not to ask too much from the person you’ve just started seeing. You don’t want to seem clingy or needy or desperate. It becomes tricky though when you actually DO care what’s happening in someone else’s life, especially when you know its something that is taking them away from you. You kind of start to wonder what it is. Is it a sick family member, or is he just a mamma’s boy? Did his ex-girlfriend just have his baby, or does he just want a drinking night with his brother? Depending on the circumstances, it could be very understandable why he’s leaving so often, and going off to take care of his bits and bobs, but that circumstance could also be a big warning sign to you. It could be why he’s being so secretive.

So here is my advice to men and women alike who are in the beginning phases of a relationship: don’t hold back the things that you might think are a big deal, or things that you think give too much away. If you want to hang on to the person you’re with, be honest with them and don’t keep them in the dark.

From the other perspective, be patient. The other person will open up to you when the time is right. Don’t force them to tell you anything before they are ready or they will feel smothered and exposed. It’s tough to be patient sometimes, but it’s usually worth it. It’s like cooking a good meal: “5 minutes could be the difference between a good meal and a gourmet meal.”