Dudley Do-Wrong and the Yankee in London

Piccadilly Circus, 2004 -- I made it in one piece!

Yaaaaay! I arrived safely into Heathrow Airport! My plane ride, smooth and most of my fears about flying quieted by my faithful companion, Jack Daniel’s®. 🙂 If only going through customs had been equally as pleasant; Instead of the “Where are you going?” inquiry that I received with suspicion from airport security in New York,  I was now getting from the “unwelcome wagon”, also known as a disgruntled, female immigration officer, “Why are you here, in the United Kingdom?” I responded, “To find a date” (I really was going to say that my search was for a “husband”, but thought, she might consider that some sort of illegal ploy to stay in her country.) She then gave me the “stink-eye of death” and let me pass (the WRETCH).

(So, anyway…)

Trafalgar Square

I happily hopped into a humongous cab that could’ve probably held my old studio apartment in Spanish Harlem and jetted off to my hotel, located of off “The Strand“, a historical street in the borough of Westminster.

In the lobby of the hotel, waiting to greet me, was an amorous, Italian concierge, with the temperament of “Pepe Le Pew“, who would keep offering his “personal assistance” by way of my hotel room… undoubtedly wanting more than a tip. More

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London– Project: “Get a Date, Mate!”

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 More

© 2010-2015 Heidi Rodney-Nakanishi and ChocolateGeisha Spills the Sake!™ All images are copyrighted by their respective authors.
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