Going Dutch
MVWD occurred when I was 17 and visiting my relatives in a suburb of Amsterdam. I will admit, I wasn’t traumatized but in hindsight it was amusing as my first international dating experience.
I had just graduated from high school and went to spend a month in the Netherlands before starting college in the fall. One day, about a week into my visit, a young man (about 17 or 18), P, started hanging around outside. Turns out he was doing house painting at the next house, had spotted me, and wanted to ask me out. However, rather than ask me directly, P asked my older cousin to ask me. I was about to decline, thinking that he didn’t ask me because he didn’t speak English (I could understand quite a bit of Dutch but at that point in my trip, didn’t speak it very well).
But P did speak English so I agreed to the date. We went to a local sports club to go swimming. As we walked there, we made the usual small talk. I told him I was entering college in the fall. He told me about his job painting and other plans he had. We arrived and swam but for me the connection wasn’t there.
We ran into his friends and he introduced me, speaking Dutch the entire time. P must not have realized that I understood Dutch (mostly because he never asked me) and was telling his friends about the “rich American babe that he just bagged.” Even if I was having a fabulous time, this was a major turnoff. It was not that I minded being called a babe – but I did mind being referred to as if I were something to be bagged, tagged, and displayed like a trophy. And I was far from rich so I also felt a little uneasy and on edge with that reference.
As we were walking home, P asked if I would be his girlfriend. I declined, using the excuse that I was only there for three more weeks and didn’t feel that it was appropriate. He then invited himself over for the next night, Saturday. I told him no, my family and I had plans. So he invited himself over for Sunday evening and again, I told him we had plans. Maybe it was my American sensibility but I found inviting oneself over after one date to be really rude.
Two nights later, on Sunday, my family and I came home from dinner out. I spotted P on a bridge near the house as if he were waiting for me and it felt rather like stalking. P expected to come in and watch TV with us. I politely told him that we had been out all day and this was not a good time. I also did not commit to any future get-togethers. The next day, he came to the house asking for water (he was working a few doors down). Bless my aunt’s heart – although I didn’t tell her that he made me uncomfortable, she sensed it and told the guy to get lost.
The rest of my visit was P-free and it was great to see such a beautiful country.
