A Meeting With A Woman Of A Different Tribe
When cultural differences confuse us more than the reasons of our existence
Last night, I went on my second date with this nice Canadian gal.
Although she has Norwegian roots, you’d think her last name was closer to “Clarke” (with an “e”) than “Odinsson.” Her likes, tastes, and what she likes to smell on the men on her dates are nothing different from what one would expect from someone who grew up in Calgary.
I wanted to know more about her, and this is what I gathered—
Dislikes: Handsy men.
That’s all for the dislikes. I know what you are thinking. I’m thinking it too. Who even likes handsy men?
Likes: Sci-fi (non-fiction is for those poor losers pursuing a Ph.D.), spending time with her cats, meowE and meowOw ( OG names censored for the privacy of the cats), shopping at a marketplace for which she’s got a season pass, hanging out with friends, and finally, the usual…hiking.
That covers almost every attribute you’d expect from a normative individual lounging in the middle of the Gaussian bell.
But, her redeeming quality is her prolonged chattiness. She can enviably add more content to the conversation.
This is quite different from all my other dates, where the girls were as talkative as a doorknob. This woman, however, knew what it took to keep the night alive.
Also, she’s strong as a Nordling. When I told her I got my driving license last week, her high-five got me a feel of her Viking arm drive. This reminded me to play it safe with a firecracker. One wrong move and her slap could grip tighter than my Dad’s when I was a kid.
However, a sure thing to notice is the cultural gap. Everything between us, including language, is different.
Sometimes, we cannot fully understand each other’s accents. This is especially true with her “conversation concluders”, the native jargon in her finishing move to summarize the time we spent together. All I can offer in return is a great, all-knowing Buddha smile, an awkward laugh, and the mandatory, “I had a good time.”
Five years in the US is just not enough. It is all the more useless when I spent most of that time with immigrant Indians and Chinese techies. I cannot follow the absolute basics of Canadian vernacular speech, or for that matter, even US’. This gap cannot be bridged by simply binge-watching episodes of Modern Family, Golden Girls, or Glamor Girls (which she loves.)
For example, she started conversing with this random gemstone peddler at the marketplace and said something wicked to make him laugh out loud. But, all I could decipher were sound waves, like the ones in your Physics high school practical class with the tuning fork.
So, I smiled and waved. When that seemed awkward, I diverted my attention to the tattered book on the shop’s counter, something about “Gemstones: What you need to know.” I have as much interest in gemstones as any other kind of rock— Zilch.
But, she loved them. I wanted to get one for her, but felt that the second date was probably too early for an impromptu gift. She is a Pretty Woman and would probably look great in a one-piece with or without the wig, but I’m no Richard Gere.
We roamed around the marketplace and, finally, went for a drink. She was welcomed as a fellow tribe member with open arms and smiles of familiarity by the receptionist and a couple of bartenders.
I, on the other hand, stood out quite well. In fact, everyone probably assumed I was there on a school project or a business meetup.
We conversed at length, but for someone who was pathetic at texting, she seemed pretty reliant on her phone. This gets us to my peeve, or rather my concern, about how things stand.
She is poor at keeping in touch. By that, I don’t mean “She takes a day to get back,” Rather, she might take anywhere between 2-3 days to a week. Sometimes, never.
But, when I do get that text, it won’t be one-liners, but full-fledged paragraphs matching mine in gusto. I like being thrown into this state of conundrum while being judgmental.
For someone on call 24x7 as a support specialist in her job, who also has a broad group of friends, I wonder if I cannot be prioritized a little more. But I also feel that such a thought process is the very definition of emotional insecurity.
Maybe, her silence is just part of her culture. Maybe, residents of Ragnarok don’t text their dates and would like to meet in person instead. But, we aren’t living in the 1980s anymore. I don’t have time to meet her twice a week (and probably, neither does she.)
If we don’t have a call, we probably exchange three texts over a couple of weeks which isn’t constructive to getting to know one another. Case in point—She wasn’t aware of my cuisine preferences as a vegetarian until I told her last night as she was enthusiastically pointing out the different kinds of salmon showcased in the seafood section.
Indeed, this is a bother. One of two I could find so far.
But what if she opens up a lot more once she knows I’m her Neo? Doesn’t all of this make it a part of her scheme? (which wasn’t communicated. See?! This is why we need to talk more!)
There is much to learn. Our futures, careers, likes, and distastes. But, so far, I’m the only one engaging in her life preferences.
All she knows about me is what I do for a living (and that I am grass-fed.) Other than that, I’ve probably offered more information about myself than she has willingly enquired.
This is a common theme across all my dates. I assumed women would tread farther than just getting to know the other’s payroll capability. Isn’t safety still an issue for most women? Especially on a date with a brown dude who grew up in a suburb across the globe?
It’s probably my chatty nature that comes in the way of getting to know me. But I doubt it, because even with gossipy Eves, I pull levers to drive conversations more toward getting to know them.
Like when I broached her idea of a bad date. Or what she liked to read, or her life philosophies.
I ain’t witnessing a whole lotta love from the other end so far. Maybe “Clarke”s and “Odinsson”s are alike in that respect. Their evaluation strategies are probably to let their men unravel as much as possible before expending energy in critical interrogation.
I hope she’s the one. I’d rather have someone to exchange ideas with over the remainder of my short life than waste a chunk of it going through a catalog.
Bad marriages happen because of a handful of reasons. If we know what they are and how to overcome them, nothing should be left to outsmart us. That includes cultural differences and personal idiosyncrasies.
In fact, I believe that it is because (and not in spite) of these differences that we can have a fulfilling relationship.
But, relying on pop cult definitions of how a date should or shouldn’t be is a deadly time suck. Ditto for relationships.
I guess romantic bonds take time to fluff up like a loaf of bread. I am inclined to follow the sage financial adage— “Time in the market is more profitable than timing the market.”
I am here for the long haul and ready to hold my breath for as long as it takes, for the woman who would, one day, take it all away.