About the choices we make and the men who surprise us.0
Most of my readers know that a while back I was dating an hombre Mexicano. I wrote about him ad naseum, and despite a couple short comings (pun intended) known to turn me off in other circumstances, I learned to embrace because I just liked him so much. When I met Mexy I was casually dating an expat banker. In my mind I was making an expat arbitration. The romantic, gentle kissing Latin Lover v. the costume clad dancing Frenchman. Such the dilemma.
I chose Mexy, mainly because I could actually understand what he was saying and was consequently able to get to know him better in a shorter amount of time. No seriously, I don’t speak French and he doesn’t speak Spanish, so English was our only medium for communication. Our first date, I really didn’t know what he was saying, and getting to know him would take more time. My need for instant gratification (no pun intended this time) won, and I spent three months doing a complicated tango with my Latin lover. During that time, I had limited communication with my former Frenchman, although I would occasionally run into him on the dancefloor around 3 a.m. I didn’t feel the need to mention the Mexy as neither were my official boyfriend and there was no real crossover concern. My failure to mention Mexy actually became partially responsible for salvaging then saving my current relationship with Frenchie, but I’ll get to that. What stands out in my mind though is a weekend my family had baseball tickets to see our home team play the Nationals. I invited Mexy to D.C. with my brother, his girlfriend and me for a quick get away weekend. After days of beating around the bush, he finally said he would not be joining as it was a “bit serious” for him. Whaaa? Going to a baseball game is serious now? Apparently our definitions of serious greatly differed. It was the begining of the end.
Shortly after the third month, I knew it was over with the Mexy. The preceding Saturday night my friend informed me that it was time to “rip off the band aid.” So I made up my mind, and after dinner I went immediately to meet my former French beau and rekindle our dancefloor romance. Yeah, I don’t waste any time. Over the next few weeks, I began to realize what I never knew I never knew about the Frenchie.
First and foremost, he is so fun. And he and his friends drink champagne, dress up in costumes and outfits for special occasion and for no occasion at all and dance all night. I totally love it. Part of my reservation stemmed from preconceived notions I had about his possibly skewed intentions – he is French – and lack of seriousness. After Mexy, I myself got a little bit weirded out by anything serious, so when I started phase two with Frenchie, we were on the same page.
He joined some friends and I on a trip to the Hamptons a couple weeks ago. When he went upstairs to shower, my friend Jess looked at me and said “How could you have ever chosen Mexy over Frenchie. Frenchie is so much better. He’s hilarious and so sweet.” Then I thought about the past few weeks. We had seen each other several times a week and spent some nights together. He took me to see a chick flick when he lost a bet and may have even enjoyed it…if minimally. My friends started to adore him and even my brother was warming up to him a bit.
Knowing I would have to be out of town often for the next several months, I attempted to keep the relationship casual, and it was… it is. My relationship with the Mexy was very intimate and intense, while my relationship with Frenchie is lighter and more casual…or so I thought. Then this week I received a voicemail telling me he had a surprise. Knowing I would be away for work next week and weekend and taking into account my complaints of loneliness and lack of friends, he said he would come visit me. So he’s flying to see me, at my parents home, I might add. And now, I heart him.
Looking back, my decision was fail proof. Maybe Mexy wasn’t the one, but at the time I didn’t have the patience yet for Frenchie. I needed the wrong to chill me out for the right. And while my arbitration might seem the envy of any a girl, it’s important to make sure that no matter the relationship dilemma, there is something to learn.
Posted by Emma Dinzebach at 12:00 AM
bargain news , Points of View , Relationships , STYLE/BEAUTY | Trackback |
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