ChocolateGeisha Spills the Sake!™

Rogue on the prowl, 2003! One of my attempted “sexy cool” poses that would later get posted on dating websites.

“Okay, that’s it, I’m moving to London!” is what went through my head after Seal and Paulo Coehlo had spoken to me.

I’d go to this foreign land– with solely dog and cat in hand– but would not see the sights alone– Surely, there’d be a nice man to call my own!

(Gosh, I love myself! 😉 )

UK.Match.com, the Brits’ solution to online dating, would be my new hunting ground for romance… I’ve always said that I prefer my men imported, not domestic— Now, I’d be the exotic dish to be served .

It was my right to cross the “International Date Line” (pun intended) as when I was 16, a high school chum – Sujatha Rajiram – of Indian decent (bindi, and all), read my palm with a perplexed look on her face that made her eyebrows furrow and told me that my husband would NOT be American (Back then, I equivocated that to mean, my spouse would be Puerto Rican {Hey, that’s all I knew before I left Toms River, New Jersey at the age of 12.}) “Boricuas” were the most unusual ethnic group, besides my own Trinidadian heritage, to exist in a small town like Port Charlotte, Florida– the place where my mother had later move our family for another career advancement.

The fates seemed to agree with my clairvoyant classmate’s prediction because even though my dating experiences were limited, I’d come to encounter a plethora of opportunities from gentlemen (and not-so-gentlemanly) callers whose homelands were speckled around the globe (They dig me.) It was still a surprise, however, that I’d marry my “Hot Sake” man from Japan as the majority of offers made to me were from fellas who originated in Eastern and Western Europe, as well as Israel…

(but anyway…)

During this round of searching for love, I’d work on getting an Englishman (or anyone in the vicinity of London).

My efforts were working!

I had attracted the attention of other members on the dating site and found a good prospect (or so I thought), a Londoner who had “bitten on my fishing line of communication”. I became, even more, determined to cross continents!

Most everyone was hung-up on my sudden (in their heads) decision to move abroad and thought it crazy of me to just show up in a foreign country, where I had never been,  and “hit the ground running”.

I couldn’t think of a better idea.

The more people nagged, the more determined I was to show them how “bravery” was done… EXCEPT it was no longer about rebellion, but intrigue; I needed to meet my cyber-sweetheart, with whom I had shared expensive, long-distance phone calls (before Skype was existent in my world), enjoyed hearing the sound of his rich, resonant voice… sported “Mona-Lisa smiles” on my face each time I read his charming e-mail. He was just my style and an indie-film director, to top it off.

I romanticized our would-be union to the soundtrack of Coldplay’s album, Parachutes… all the even-numbered tracks, to be exact– “Shiver” being my favorite of the lineup– going even further by finding a resemblance between he and Chris Martin, the lead singer of the band. I’d gaze at my thirty-something “skater boy” in his strategically-postured pictures, looking like something off of a Bruce Springsteen album cover, minus the scruff, shades and Asbury Park sex appeal.

After four months of corresponding, I was smitten enough to use unimportant “peer-pressure” (something that never affected me), as an excuse to fly to the “land of fish and chips” to “research” my desired residence before moving there in June of 2004– four months away. In reality, I’d check on my prospective match in hopes of our not having a meeting (a term reserved for dubious suitors), but an actual “Love, American Style “… uh, “English Style“, fireworks-filled date, mate!

I was being logical, as far as I was concerned; My track record had shown that there was a much higher rate of failure when it came to giving Cupid the right coordinates for aiming, shooting, and piercing the hearts of any couple (where I was one of the two parties) than a blind move to unknown territory– a breeze in comparison.

Instead of being taken with someone for eight months I needed to get the anticipated tryst out-of-the-way, earlier than later, to save myself from the possible disappointment of having invented a “dream guy” from a few pictures, e-mail and phone conversations who might not “make the grade” in the end.

Thank goodness, my instincts were properly calibrated when I made my decision because as predicted, said “dream guy” turned out to be a real “night terror”. I’ll spill the sake about my online loser – yes, loser – and first adventure in London when I post my next installment of “Doomed Dating and the Foreign Man“.

Toodles!

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© 2010-2011 Heidi Rodney-Nakanishi and ChocolateGeisha Spills the Sake!        All images are copyrighted by their respective authors.