One of the best dates I’ve been on was with a gentleman from Argentina. We met on Butterfly Beach in passing, as I headed to my car at the top of the stairs to grab an extra blanket. He’s asked my name. I could tell he was young (25 maybe?), but his thick accent was adorable, and I didn’t mind the attention. After a couple where-are-you-from’s, I excused myself to grab what I needed. As I made my way back to the beach, Mr. Argentina was heading up the stairs to leave. “Elizabeth!,” he said with his sexy accent. “I have to leave, but this is for you!” He handed me a piece of paper, folded up into a little square. He squeezed my hand, winked, then air-kissed me goodbye. I giggled. I skipped down the stairs and spotted a $20 bill at my feet. I took it as a good sign.
I waited until I got home to read the note:
“You are the most beautiful girl in SB! Would you like to go to dinner with me?”
Beneath, a smiley face and two options to choose from, “Yes” or “No”. Cute. This was obviously “a line”, but I went for it. I called three days later.
“Elizabeth! I’ve been waiting for your call!” He asked if I’d like to go to dinner on a Monday night. It’s refreshing not to have a guy beat around the bush for an awkward phone conversation before getting to the point. I liked he had a plan and was direct in asking me out. Clear and concise.
Monday night, I donned my favorite kelly-green dress and checked my lipstick in the rearview mirror before leaving my car. I felt good and ready for the date, but as I crossed the street toward the restaurant, it suddenly hit me that we may not have anything to talk about. I didn’t know this guy from Adam and our few-sentences exchange from the beach, via phone, and a hand-written note hardly added up to a confident encounter.
But it’s too late now. Not to mention I caught a glimpse of him waiting at a front table and he was even cuter than I remembered. I shrugged it off. We’d figure it out.
He stood up to greet me with a kiss on the cheek and pulled a chair out for me to sit. He ordered a bottle of red wine and scallops to start. I was surprised how the conversation flowed. Colloquialisms and witty banter out the window, we were left with what simple English he could speak and what little Spanish I could remember. We talked about his job and why he quit to live in the states. We discussed politics, cultural differences and similarities, and what we want for the future.
It was one of the most honest conversations I’ve ever experienced on a date, and it was due to the fact that we had no other choice than to be direct with each other in order to understand. Just two people from different parts of the world sharing thoughts and ideas. It made me realize that limited communication is key. Quality over quantity always seems to win. Luckily, we both communicated quite clearly in French while sitting on the beach. Our relationship turned for the better. No talking required.