Argentine and dating
Relieved to be in a taxi alone back to my place, as soon as I got home I replied to the POF boy seeing if he was still free the next night as we’d tentatively made plans, hopefully take two would be an improvement! I’d never met up with someone like this, was this such a good idea?? He was funny, interesting and our mansion bar drinks went well.
I pulled out my phone to text him, secretly hoping that the guy across the street wouldn’t show signs of receiving a new message. He had to go off to shoot a band (he shoots music gigs in his free time, very cool).
His grammar and spelling were often shaky, he did say something about his parents being from Argentina but that he was raised in the US and was a proud Texan. All things considered, I still wanted to meet him and was truly hoping the date would go well. In Argentina it wasn’t Friday the 13th which brought bad luck, it was Tuesday.
There were other things that were a bit off such as him starting to “miss me” already even though we hadn’t even met, him being a bit demanding when I hadn’t replied fast enough to one of his messages and the fact that we wanted a lot of children (that wouldn’t be happening with me! Had this cultural superstition put a bad omen on our evening?
and then his phone was buzzing with whatsapp notifications all night!However, the “best relationship prospects” the system dug up were hardly appetizing, luckily I had a few better fish in the “views” and little hi messages in English which I’d also received, that said, with these dismal results, I was about to move my pole into a different pond!Then I received a message from yet another photographer. Back on whatsapp, the Texan had replied to my message rather quickly, yet, instead of just a amicable hello and suggestion for a day to meet for coffee, he starts a “get-to-know-you” dialogue.As my brother was staying with me at the beginning of my stay, I couldn’t really do any serious searching for a little Latin lover.We went out a few times, but any potential candidates most certainly would have thought he was my boyfriend, so I did my best to slip in “” whenever I spoke to any cute waiters, hotel staff or friendly chatters in a crowd. until he left, or at least I could get the ball rolling when he went down to Patagonia.
So we made a date for the following weekend, a pisco sour and fernet night, the national drinks of Peru and Argentina.