After opening up about my current emotional level, my psychiatrist concluded:
“Oh, that’s sad!”
“Well, why do you think I am here (bitch)?! I asked her rhetorically and politely leaving the last word out.
The whole psychiatrist session lasted about fifteen minutes including the hello’s and “best of luck” wishes. She basically fired me by recommending I should see a therapist who can deal with my emotions.
Fair enough. Good thing I have lots of therapeutical friends who don’t charge as much as degree holders in this country.
“You need a boyfriend!” The psychiatrist added.
“No, I don’t! I kinda decided that like five minutes ago when we both agree I have issues. Like who wants an emotionally unstable person?”
“Ok. You’re not sick. You just live in Denmark.” That’s what my therapeutical friends told me.
Let’s recap why I need to tell my real therapist:
The last guy I dated ghosted the fuck out of me after our second date. And I actually liked him…
My roomie just wrote an official paper where it says I have to move out. And I thought he’s my bestie…
My former office crush completely ignored me the night we supposed to hook up. And hit on some other girl…
A bunch of Danish guys whom I spent the last New Years said there is no more room for me this year. And I thought we are friends…
I mean, seriously?! How much more one can take? Like is not enough that the sun goes down before five pm, that it’s fucking freezing and there is no snow in Copenhagen, or that I am not going home for Christmas, but everything else. Oh, man, I wish Santa Claus was real… I think some good presents will heal all these broken pieces of my heart.
And now, don’t worry, I know what my therapist will say:
The greatest damage rejection causes is usually self-inflicted. Just when our self-esteem is hurting most, we go and damage it even further.
Rejection feels like physical pain and Paracetamol is the cure for it. I know. And I also know that Rejection lowers your IQ. Yes, temporarily, but since I get it a lot… just don’t be surprised I act stupid. 🙃☺️🤡💃🏻
August 26th, 2012 marks the day I moved to Denmark. I remember when I left Romania I was wearing the same shorts I have today on. I know, I am thinking almost the same: damn, I am still as fit as five years ago 😀 That day I got a laptop as a present for starting a new cycle of studies and a new life basically. I arrived here with lots of courage
I arrived here with lots of courage, hope, and strong will. I didn’t know much about Denmark and it was for the best because I got to discover everything in the right way. I felt cold, lonely, heartbroken, unwanted, envied and ghosted way too many times. I also felt appreciated, loved, helped, admired, wanted and lucky as fuck.
If someone would have flashed my life from the past five years back then I would’ve run back as fast as possible. Oh, no! how could I have said yes to breaking up with my fiance, living with strangers, moving from one room to another for too many times, dating weird guys, falling for the worst, hoping for the best, getting depressions, panic attacks, anxiety, nightmares, deceptions, failures, a bunch of sorrys? 🤦🏻♀️But then again, I have learned how to live abroad, travel by myself, socialize, make good decisions, give more than receive, love when I wasn’t loved, who I (possibly) am and what I want to do in life. I had the greatest teachers whom I thank from all my heart. 🙌🏻
Today I was talking about how I love having crushes. If you’ve met me in the past five years and let me tell you about any of my dating stories, you know my life was like a movie. I actually inspired a few people to travel into datingland and find their significant others. I know, right? 😀
Oh man, I can’t believe I’ve been here five years and I am still alive. Also, single and fabulous! 😎 not entirely sure about my mental health, but I am working on it. And I am home.
Today I am giving myself a good round of applause for not giving up, for surviving at my best and for still trying to accomplish many things 💪🏻
ps: August 26th, 1920 is the day that women officially got the right to vote in the US. Today is Women’s Equality Day and, I imagine right in this moment tons of people all over the world celebrate it by debating strongly on feminism, women in business or marriage equality. If you have interests in any of the subjects, plus more related to women, have a look at this list of books worth reading.
It’s a cold night in Denmark. You’re single, tired of watching Netflix alone and wish you could have someone who you could just cuddle with. So where are you going? Shopping. To the app store. Entertainment category. Tinder comes up first. But you don’t want a one night stand. Happn is too creepy, OkCupid takes too much time, Bumble is full of cute, smart but insecure guys and the rest of them…well, you don’t wanna be that desperate. But hey what about Coffee Meets Bagel (CMB)?
CMB was founded by 3 sisters, 30+yo on Valentine’s Day in 2012 (though Wikipedia says it was on my birthday). These 3 females/feminists are confident that their app is the best dating app for women. So called “Anti-Tinder”, CMB names its users ‘bagels’ (I’m not sure if only the guys are bagels or girls too?) and here is how it works: you log in with Facebook, answer to a few questions about yourself including what you expect from your date, then you get daily (at noon) 21 ‘bagels’ who are supposed to be suitable for you. Also you get coffee beans for liking people, playing games and other quizzes, which you can use as the currency for buying extra bagels or to send them to your friends. Convinced yet? Okay… But heads up: single, smart, busy men are not hot, not on this app. Or at least not in the first ‘order’ day and not for sophisticated, high-maintenance women. 🙈
After 10 minutes you realise you basically cannot even swipe right once. You get 21 ‘bagels’ (gosh, how can one be attracted to someone who’s so highly objectified?! 😛 ) for 24 hours and keep thinking who to chose. But eventually you pick the 35yo engineer guy who looks a bit too serious and old for your taste, but hey, you’re curious about his PhD in solar energy and he looked nice in one picture – which was probably taken 3 years ago on some happy holiday. Oh what a surprise, you match! CMB sends you notifications on what to ask him. You only know the bagel’s name after you match. Everyone is just a bagel until they…eat each other?
The app’s algorithm tells you to ask the Bagel about the last book he bought. You do it. The bagel makes you wait. Overthinking mood on: “double check my photos, am I probably too superficial to him? I am way hotter so he must’ve think that there is no point of this anyway. Or maybe he’s at some dinner. Or he’s already sleeping. He seems the kind of guy who goes to bed early.”
So what do you do? you poor yourself a glass of wine, install Bumble, swipe a few times right, get some matches, text 3 of them and even start a conversation with one. Bagel keeps you waiting, but who has time for that at the end of autumn 2016?! You text Bagel that you’re not here for random chatting, small talk and meeting tons of people. You have been here for 20 hours and it was enough to tell it’s a waste of time for you, but if he wants to text sometime and see if is there any connection, you can give him your phone number. If not, best of luck amigo! Bagel answers you after you already got two dates on Bumble and he sounds like writing an email:
“I like the honesty. I am not a fan of chatting too much here neither. I prefer to meet and see how it goes face to face. We can meet one day, have a coffee without making a big deal out of it and see. This Sunday morning would work for me. Please let me know what suits you.”
This Bagel obviously hasn’t been on the dating apps too much. But at this point you are super happy about this Bumble guy who cannot shut up and makes you smile so you don’t wanna be too mean to Bagel (even though he deserves more of your honesty). Tell him that ignoring your offering of your phone number was a turn off and Sunday morning is definitely reserved for a special guy who can make you fall in love on a perfect Sunday morning. Anyway, it’s late, winter is coming and nobody asked you for dating counselling. Though they should, cause that’s something dating apps made you good at.
Apparently Coffee Meets Bagel made more than 2.5 billion introductions and created more than 50,000 happy couples. Called LadiesChoice because it’s the app with more women users than men (60/40 ratio). Also, one of the co-founders found her boyfriend on CMB when her sister sent the right bagel to her. Are you a coffee who needs bagels?
“Coffee Meets Bagel wants to be the place to find love, not hook-ups.” (TechCrunch, 2016)
This was the moment when James got my attention tonight. I said no and indulged him to proceed into details.
So, there is the space and a cube in it. Deacribe the cube!
Well it’s a 2 apples size black cube floating … That’s it.
Ok. Now you have a ladder. Where and how is the ladder?
I see an old school ladder, medium sized like those treasure boxes pirates find in their adventures. This is one is sitting on the ground below the cube.
Hmm interesting. Now there is a pony in the space. Describe the pony.
My pony is a baby unicorn who changes its colors. Like cameleons.
Oh wow! Ok. Now the last questions. A storm is coming. How do u see the storm?
Well simply like a tornado destroying and taking everything up with it.
James did a quite cool interpretation of all these elements in my univers and that’s how he forgot I am not the hottest the girl at the party. I wanted to go to this birthday party tonight but I was scared to…so I was inviting anyone I found funny enough to join me for free champaigne with fancy people but since they all turned me down, I went there alone. If though I barely knew the Australian birthday boy and none of his upper class friends, I had the courage to show up wearing black jeans, rain boots and a white ripped tee. James even agreed that I looked like I just got off from work (which I did actually). Oh well. The night turned out to be way more interesting than I expected. Me and James played some drinking games, which I won, then we crashed a party in a club in a Church and then we ate carrots at MacDonalds! Haha. For real! Oh, and whenever he tried to kiss me I took his hand and dragged him to a very unconfortable friendzone. But hey, at least his best friend there said I was his favourite Danish person, even tho I was the least Danish at the party. Second Oh, there was this blondie at the party who we all said she is the hottest tonight, but who actually gave me the most lovely compliments I ever got from a girl. She said I had such a great an unusual attitude and I was quite brave going there in the beginning. Well I guess I was really undersdressed, but that didnt stop me having a great time! That champagne…
The non-danish girl!
Ps: check my snapstory if you dont believe me haha
Pps: Happy Birthday to my friends Morgan from Australia and Andrew from New Zealand! ❤️
Dupa ce saptamana trecuta m-am distrat enorm in Silicon Valley, ultimele nopti m-am drogat cu Vikings. Serialul asta a inceput imediat dupa ce am venit eu in Danemarca si de atunci am fost amandoi ocupati. Dar stii ceva? Eu cred ca sunt lucruri precum carti si filme care trebuie sa ne astepte ele pe noi si nu invers. Trebuie sa astepte pana ne facem damblalele, pana acumulam niste experiente si trairi care nu ne fac decat sa imbratisam ecranul si sa topim copertile pana in zori de drag si interes. Atunci o sa-si merite toti banii. Nu-i asa?
Anul trecut n-as fi inteles si m-ar fi plictisit maxim un serial plin de salbatici care se chinuie sa para niste vikingi autentici, dar folosesc cuvinte si expresii din prezent. Ce ma enerveaza cel mai tare e ca vorbesc despre sex mai mult decat il practica. Dar norocul e ca frumusetea vine dinspre zei si culturi diferite, lucruri care ma fascineaza pe mine acum si, bineinteles, australianul din rolul principal in ochii caruia m-am inecat din 2013 pe afis. Cea mai faina lupta si singura care ma intereseaza e data intre credinta unui preot crestin care invata si adopta practicile paganilor nordici. Athlestan era oricum un preot talentat si curios de fel, dar cand isi cunoaste varianta razboinica, puternica si neinfricata in vikingul Ragnar, oh well… povestea este foarte asemanatoare cu a mea de cand m-am mutat in Copenhaga. Aici mi-am cunoscut varianta masculina, Nordica, necredincioasa, fricoasa, mult mai inteligenta, smechera, lipsita de scrupule si mai prost imbracata. Ne-am imprietenit. Nu ca Ragnar si preotul lui crestin (mai mult ca Lagertha cu Kalf), dar am trecut prin teste grele si am invatat unul de la altul. Pana acum am crezut mereu ca eu am fost vinovata pentru fiecare lupta pierduta. Serialul asta mi-a aratat in alte imagini si cuvinte ca n-am gresit cu absolut nimic. Si nu doar intr-o singura relatie cu un danez, ci mai multe. Pentru un an de zile am locuit cu un danez. Un Viking prin infatisare, port si credinte. L-am judecat dupa felul in care am fost eu invatata de mica pentru ca nu m-a intrebat cum o duc sau ca nu m-a invitat cu el la masa. M-am simtit nedorita pentru ca nu mi-a oferit atentie si abia am asteptat sa ma mut… dupa cererea lui. I-am spus cand am plecat ca imi pare rau ca nu am reusit sa fim prieteni. Mi-a spus atunci ca suntem prieteni. Pe facebook. Dupa ce timp de un an de zile mi-am dorit sa fim prieteni si sa impartim mancare si idei, dupa ce m-am mutat si am incetat sa mai imi pese, vikingul mi-a marturisit ca i-am fost cea mai draga colega de apartament si vrea sa luam cina impreuna. Nemai obosindu-ma sa interpretez intentiile, pentru un oarecare motiv, nu pot sa nu ma gandesc la Mathias care mi-a spus ca … el are prieteni destui. Acum, spune-mi tu, cine are prieteni destui?
Iubesc Copenhaga. Sunt convinsa maxim ca e cel mai frumos oras in care am locuit vreodata si aici ma simt acasa. Well, mai mult pe strazi decat inauntru, dar asta-i alta poveste. Danezii sunt un popor extraordinar. Sunt virtuosi si inteligenti. Sunt uniti si individualisti. Si-au pastrat multe caracteristici din stramosi si in sfarsit am inteles de ce. Incet, incet, renunt si ma calmez cand vine vorba de judecatile si asteptarile cu care am fost crescuta. Aici am invatat ca un zambet face cat zece propozitii si, mai mult, iti poate face toata ziua mai frumoasa. Danezii m-au invatat ce inseamna sa iesi din zona de confort generala si sa iti cauti propriul tau confort. Daca nu vrei sa ai o experienta, then don’t! Nu te obliga absolut nimeni sa faci lucruri care nu-ti plac. In Scandinavia exista o anumite libertate si o siguranta aparte. Dar pentru ca nu le poti avea pe toate – ca doar asta-i sensul vietii – singuratatea e o stare generala. Da, poate pentru imigranti si expati in general, dar si pentru danezi, e o conditie greu de inteles si acceptat. Cere timp.
Nordicii s-au desprins mereu de celelalte popoare printr-o vointa superioasa de cunoastere de sine. Cred ca asta i-a adus atat de departe – si la propriu si la figurat. Acum am inteles ca asta m-a adus sip e mine aici. Si daca l-ai cunoscut pe Athelstan, atunci ai idee cam ce lupte se dau in mintea mea acum. Da, trebuie sa-mi descopar sinele si dumnezeul. Pentru ca nu-i asa de simplu ca la ora de religie, iar eu sunt curioasa rau de tot. 🙂
Anyway, azi e prima zi adevarata de vara in Danemarca. Vreau sa merg pe plaja. Singura. Dar poti sa vii si tu daca vrei sa iti mai povestesc din astea. Sa-mi ierti dramatismul acum, e dimineata si sunt nedormita. Il confund usor cu romantismul…
You should probably know that this situation was taking place in one of Copenhagen’s amazing spaces called Christiania, so you can have an idea under what circumstances people were rolling… the words. So picture a table with a bunch of international people (all Europeans) talking about different languages and people all over the world.
Me: You know, when I was 17 I told my mom I would totally have a kid with an Asian or an African man, because I read the interracial couples have the healthiest kids.
Hot Finnish Guy sitting next to me: So you wouldn’t do it with a white guy?
Me: Well of course I would do it… I am not 17 anymore. 😀
Hot Guy sitting next to me: OK, so you will have healthy kids anyway.
Me: What do you mean? Oh, wait… are you saying…
Finnish Guy sitting next: I always though East Europeans are a different race…
Guy next to me: But look at your color skin. You look like a turkey…
[Everyone at the table is laughing their asses off]
Me: TURKEY?! Dude, I am totally white and now I really have to reconsider my plans in getting a tan.
Not so hot Guy next to me: I just didn’t know you are white… I am sorry.
Me totally writing down this convo: …
[Everyone: Give her a moment, now she’s twitting this conversation :)))]
Finnished Guy next to me: Oh, no, please don’t get me wrong. What I am trying to say is that I thought you and I are different races… So how do interracial couples make healthier kids? How is that related to intelligence?
Me: Now I am just thinking if this is worse than that time when I met one hot dude looking totally like Ryan Gosling and he was asking me how is it like living in Denmark where everyone thinks I am a gypsy. Or that time when a Lithuanian told me he thought all Romanians are gypsies and another time a Danish guy asked me how come I don’t look like one of those gypsies. But hey, tonight I was compared to a “turkey” so you win!
I did my research on “race” topic and the fact is that when some people use the word “race” they attach a biological meaning, still others use “race” as socially constructed concept.
All races of mankind in the world can interbreed because we all share 99.99+% of the same genetic materials which means that even the biggest division of races (White/Caucasian, Mongoloid/Asian, Negroid/Black and Australoid) is largely subjective. Thus I can totally do it with a white guy! Our kids will be healthy and smart anyway (well probably more fun than smart).
Norwegian girl: Seriously, Vio, you really get yourself in these weird situations. I mean, I heard your stories and read your blog, but I thought you’re making them up… Damn, girl!
Russian girl: Ahahahhahah, this conversation was so funny, I was taking notes!
Ukrainian girl: How high are you people?
Me: Anyway, hot Finnish guy, FYI. the idea that there exist only 3 main races (White, Black and Yellow and not brownish like you thought I am) is rooted in the European imagination of the Middle Ages (just like you try to explain yourself later). Nevertheless, the history of science has long been the history of failed efforts to justify these social beliefs. Basically they started because some fancy minds tried to fashion practical human typologies based on physical axes like skin color. Any other references are for social groups. Pam, Pam! Oh, check this out! Hottest colors! Welcome to Copenhagen!