Love Letters from a Clueless Metrosexual

Today´s Subject: Joan (Part 1)

Please note Joan is pronounced “Sho-an” but honestly, his womanly name fits his metrosexual style.

Now for the most important part of this post:

I did not date Joan.

I do not want any confusion here. Also, just in case he finds this post, I want him to hear it one last time – maybe this time he will actually accept the truth.

Joan and I never dated, we simply met through a mutual friend. Joan was much younger than me, only 19, but it was my first month in Buenos Aires and my friendship standards were pretty low. Once we started hanging out, he started to flirt with me incessantly. I let it slide to a certain extent, knowing he was Argentine and that flirtiness from an Argentine male is not quite as serious as flirting from an American male.

Then he starting calling me princesa

Not just Princesa (princess) but also mi amor, corazón, dulce, etc (my love, heart, sweets). I continuously told him I was not his anything, much less his love. I insisted that I hated being called pet names, especially by boys who I had no interest in whatsoever. I told him I was not attracted to him, physically or personality-wise. I told him he was too young and I insisted that I was uninterested in having a boyfriend at all at that time. His response?

Oh, so you are a lesbian.

The rage. The fury. The jaw-dropping shock at the audacity of this statement. Don´t get me wrong here, I have nothing against lesbians and I would not have been bothered by being confused as one, but this was clearly just an arrogant comment from a mindless male. Oh, you don´t like me? Well you must be a lesbian.

He continuously joked about my presumed lesbianism. He took it so far as to tell his mother I was a lesbian, right in front of me. I protested, explaining that this was a terrible joke of his. The poor little Jewish woman became very uncomfortable, told me I did not have to hide who I was and then scurried out of the room.

Joan found this hilarious and continued to primp in the mirror as he so often did. I hit him with a serious blow to his massive ego: Did it ever occur to you that maybe you are just not attractive? That maybe you are an ugly, annoying asshole and THAT is why I don’t like you?

He stopped calling me a lesbian after that. He came up with something even more annoying. He started calling me “mi desafío” (my challenge). He would go on and on about how I was cold-hearted and guarded, but that he would get past my barriers. This kid started drawing diagrams about my “fences”. This made me very angry.

To quote Princess Jasmine – I am not a prize to be won!

I know you guys are probably wondering why I continued to be hang out with this guy, but remember- first month abroad, low standards! To be fair, I was not nice to this guy. I believe many of my friends could back me up when I say I was straight up bitchy with this kid. He would text me “I miss you, when can I see you?” and I would say “stop being annoying” or refuse to respond at all. You would think he would take a hint, right? Well, he didn.t.

Joan wrote me love letters.

Joan began to write me love letters, often in my own notebooks, hidden between the pages. I wanted to translate one for all of you, but the notebook is currently packed away, so I will have to give you a few paraphrased snippets:

“Never in my life have a met a woman like you. The way you make me smile and laugh is incredible. You are the only woman like you. I feel so very happy to be able to spend time with you, my princess. You make me happy even though you are such a challenge. Your smile makes me smile. “

It went on and on like that. Lots of smiles, lots of happiness due to his proximity to my smile, etc etc. Yep, this is the type of winner I attract. Unfortunately, this is not the end of the Joan story. Honestly, this hardly does this whole ordeal justice. Stay tuned for an upcoming post about Joan. Let me just give you a teaser about the topics to be included: love poems and phone calls with heavy breathing.