Shortly after I had begun my online dating journey, I connected with a woman named Gabriella on Plenty of Fish. She was an attractive brunette with light brown eyes. I have a weakness for women whose names end in a’s. Subconsciously, I think I’m attracted to darker women, a reaction against my own Irish features. They seem exotic to me, their accents sensual. Through chatting with her on the app, I discovered she was Colombian and was on the tail end of a long vacation in the States. At that point of time, she was staying with cousins about 25 miles away from me.
It was apparent quickly she had very little English and my Spanish was limited to counting to 29 and discussing whose casa it was. The Google translate app solved that problem. And we merrily messaged back and forth, traded g-rated pics, and discussed getting together. She insisted she wanted to get together, but always seemed to have plans and the time grew shorter with each passing day.
Also, with each passing day, her pictures became less g-rated. We exchanged phone numbers and moved onto WhatsApp, which allowed video chats with nearly simultaneous translation, which were often nonsensical. We’d wait for each sentence to translate, laugh, and then try again. Soon, our video chats became more visual and less oral. The last several days of her stay, she would call me in the morning while I was at work. She’d still be in bed, a blanket hiked up to her chin. Slowly the blanket would be pushed aside and it all became very American Pie-ish. She’d ask me to tell her what to do, which I would, but as discretely as possible, as I was at work. Needless to say, I became very desirous of her, practically begging to see her. And the days slipped away. Three days left, then two.
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