Spring Break 1 Part 4: The Worst Coffee Date Ever

Upon returning to Puerto de Santa María, I had to take a city bus from the train station back to the apartment complex. After getting off at my stop, I was approached by a guy who had also gotten off at that point who asked me if I spoke English. I said that I did, and he replied that he thought so, that I looked different, like I was from the UK or something. I told him I was from the States. He asked if I was vacationing here because he was. I said yes, and he said that he wasn’t usually so bold, but he had seen me on the bus and thought I was beautiful and asked if I wanted to grab a beer or a coffee.

My first reaction was no, like it always is. I started making up excuses about lunch or having work to do, but he wasn’t really having any of it. Then I thought, well, it takes a lot of guts to do what he’s doing, we are in a very open and public place with lots of people, and it’s clearly way too early for lunch despite my lame excuse. So, I said yes.

It turns out that he was from Turkey but has lived all over the place and was currently living in Madrid. He bought me coffee, we continued chatting, and everything seemed to be going well...until he started talking about EVERY ex-girlfriend he’s ever had. Awkward. I really don’t care. Then he started asking me about ex-boyfriends. Um, hi, none of your business! Also, I just met you thirty minutes ago. Twice during all of that I tried to switch the topic to the weather, and twice I failed. Fortunately, the conversation eventually turned around to more normal topics.

After finishing coffee he asked if I’d like to take a walk, and since it was actually somewhat nice out and there is a nice walkway along the beach, I said yes. While we were walking he tried to hold my hand and put his arm around me. Again, awkward. Remember how we just met? He asked me what kind of music I liked, and I said that I liked almost any kind—rock, acoustic, rap, hip hop, whatever—it just depends on who’s singing and what it’s about. Apparently my open-minded attitude to music meant that I also like Turkish music, because that is what he started singing to me. I kind of blame myself for that one.

Once the song was wrapped up he told  me that I was unlike other girls my age, that I was very mature, that I seemed to care very much about other people, that I was beautiful and that he liked my green eyes. Well, I mean, I’m not going to disagree with you, man. But, then he said that he really wanted me to be in his future, that I should come to Madrid soon. Excuse me? Are you nuts? I said that I had to go, and he told me that he knew that this seemed strange because he knew my personality but that I shouldn’t feel that way. Oh really? You know my personality? Then you should have known that I would be super creeped out by all of this and that I would be enraged that you would think that you could know everything about me within one hour of meeting me. NOT okay.

That’s not the last of it. As I started to turn away, he tried to kiss me—tongue first. Are you fricking kidding me? I said thanks for the coffee and adios, but he said that we should meet up tomorrow, that he’d wait for me right there at noon. I told him he shouldn’t do that. He asked why not. I replied that I was not coming, so he should not waste his time. Even as I was halfway back to the apartment he asked if he could get my number or look me up on messenger. NO! It’s better that I look you up anyway, dude. What name will you be under? Crazy McCrazersons? I am glad that I have met nice, non-crazy guys here so that I do not take back that stereotypical image of the much-too-forward European guy.

For those who will ask me out for coffee in the future, good news: I can assure you that it will never be worse than this.