I have to give credit to a girlfriend who said that today in a traditional conversation of “men are asses, women are nuts.”
In light of my recent happenings with a certain Swede, blogging about it is the appropriate way to figure out if what happened was due to cultural differences, male carelessness, or dirty thinking. And hey, entertainment value for everyone. =) We’ll start off with last week’s story of a beer outing I had with him and meeting him after six months…
The Nervous Swede
Tall, good looking, athletic, smart, he has the makings of a very fine man. But the Swedish male always has something hidden: his soul, his heart, his intentions, his life. You may meet him several times and only learn about his love for football, sex, and innebandy. He could probably spend most of the evening staring at the floor, ceiling, his shoes, and the infinite particles floating in space. You may never know if he likes you, dislikes you, or wants to take you home forever.
But back to this particular Swede, in usual Swedish spirit we will call him Åke. Åke picks the corner seating in the bar, next to the window. Takes off his neat double breasted pea coat and scarf and sits in the corner. I sit across. We order two beers and begin talking. Then it becomes interesting. Within minutes, he begins fidgeting. Crossing legs. Uncrossing legs. Crossing legs. Rubbing legs. Uncrossing legs. Squirming in the chair.
The conversation quickly unravels into chaos. No topic is covered for more than two minutes. He bombards me with questions: “do you like sweden? are you going to travel? do you know the roads yet? are you going to buy a bike? how is job searching going? where are you applying to ? what abt grad school? when do you find out? where will you live? when do you move in? …” I answer one, I get shot with another. Pretty soon, he was staring off into space. Make eye contact with him, he quickly looks away. A very Swedish thing I must say. Men get scared of making eye contact with women. They will stare at *anything*, but the girl.
Eventually this evening turns into a farce. He looks more and more uncomfortable and frightened. If he had a Fantastic Four power, he would have walked through the window and run. And run! I could not pinpoint his nervousness. Having a beer with a pretty girl? Knowing he has a girlfriend while the one at the table is not quite aware of it? Has a slight attraction and does not know what to do? Who knows…
As luck would have it, Liverpool saved his life. The Champions League was on tv at 20:30 and he could crawl away hoping my look would not destroy him in the process.
And that was öl night with Åke. What it says about Swedish males and males in general, I am not sure yet. But we’ll moving back in time of how this whole relationship unraveled at the seems and eventually imploded.
PS- I should make it clear I am not here to bash him. He was not a bad person or an ass to me during the six months of online confusion (btw, we met each other in person first). It was a learning experience. He admitted being attracted to me and liking me too. But then he was clueless; clueless that I was always attracted to him even though we both saw different people; clueless about flirting that was misinterpreted by me; clueless that being overly helpful is a sign of attraction (no such thing as a free lunch). Though sadly, being clueless is more damaging than being malicious. And maybe distance and time too…
Clarification: I should mention that though I had a deep crush on Åke, I knew it would have never worked out. I had blind optimism that there was still a spark and that maybe the sun, moon, stars, planets, galaxies would have aligned themselves. They didn’t of course and that is for me to accept. What was most hurtful however was being flirted with (knowingly or unknowingly on his end) for a long period when intentions were never there. I can be heartbroken but I don’t like being a made fool out of.
