Cinco de Mayo!

I found this in my drafts.  I offer you this today, even though it’s ocho de junio…which does not sound like a holiday at all. 

In honor of the Mexican independence, I give you a couple stories about David. (He is Costa Rican, so you pronounce his name Dah-veed.)

Episode #1: Linda
I met David one evening, and he asked for my phone number. I’m sure Theresa spurred me on to give it to him, and then he said, “I’m sorry, what is your name? I forget.”

Well, Theresa gave him a hard time about that one. So I didn’t have to. The next morning, I got a text message that read, “Buenos dias, Linda.” I was irrate. It is one thing to forget someone’s name when you first meet them. It is another to ask, get made fun of for forgetting, and then forget again and use the wrong name in a direct address. ooo I was hot.

I steamed all of this to my dear Lauren, and she did not seem steamed at all. I rephrased what happened. She said something to the effect of, “Well, he’s hispanic.” And I can’t see what that has to do with him calling me by the wrong name. Lauren responds, “Well, you’re pretty.” What does that have to do with anything? The point is my name is not LINDA! Lauren, as cool as a cucumber just informs me that linda means pretty in Spanish.

oh.

Episode #2: You like me.

David and I went to dinner at TGIFridays. We waded through Spanglish all night in order to communicate. And towards the end of the meal, he looks at me seriously and starts the following conversation (please read all the DAVID parts with a Latino accent in your head):

DAVID: I just want to know. …You like me.
ANNA: um. I think you are nice. I mean, I don’t really know you that well. But I think you are nice.
DAVID: No, eees not a question. You like me.
ANNA: Right. um. Yes, I like you, but like I said, I don’t know you all THAT well. But I do like you.
DAVID: No, no, no.  eees not a question.  You don’t have to say anytheeeng.  [Add the appropriate gesture, with an open handed point to you and me]  You like me.
ANNA:  yeah.  Like I said I know, I like.  But …  I’m just saying…
DAVID:  [exasperated] No.  Eeees not a question.
ANNA:  ok.  You are saying, [pedantically slowly, keeping the chosen gestures] “You like me.”   yes? 
DAVID:  YES!
ANNA:  [smiling] ok.  All I’m saying is that I–[suddenly realizing that Dahveed is making a declaration of like--only he has his subject and object transposed]

Episode #3:  Back off.

I had seen David twice, maybe three times.  And he was very affectionate.  I understand that culturally Latin Americans are more touchy than Northern Americans, but I couldn’t handle it.  Also, he would make extravagant love claims, either with a sweet name (mi amor) or in Spanish.  (saying he loved me in Spanish…or maybe I just had my subject and object mixed up)  So I tried to explain to him that those words mean something different to the both of us.  I mean, you just can’t go around saying you love someone when you very first meet them.  And he was trying to explain how I was the most amazing woman in America (Has he met most of the women in America?  How does he know?) and the differences of our cultures and how it wasn’t that big of a deal–whilst incessantly touching my right limbs.  Since he wasn’t taking my suggestions, I was clear and frank:

ANNA:  [removing his hand from my knee]  You can. not. touch. me all the time.
DAHVEED:  [looking wounded] I am not trying to make sex with you.  I just—

And I don’t know what else he said because I was trying not to laugh at his mixed up idiom.