November 2007


English Mistake

The problem with short trips is that you never have enough time to see or do everything you want to do. My stay in Portland was marred by this problem, plus the fact that I need to be functional Thursday in Brussels. So Monday afternoon, after my meetings were finished, I returned to my hotel, packed my suitcase, rested a bit, and then went to the movies.

The Ace Hotel is directly across the street from the Living Room Theaters, a cozy set of six screens showing art films. Among the selections, I could have seen The Lives of the Others—a film I own on DVD and adore. Instead I asked to see “This is England,” but received a ticket for “Broken English.”

It took me a few minutes to realize that I was in the wrong theater, but I decided to stick it out. The ticket was only $4.50 and I was comfortable in my armchair. It was a good decision.

I think I am starting to fall for chick flicks—and this one struck home for me. Our heroine, played by Parker Posey, is an aging single woman who hasn’t met the man of her dreams—instead she’s had a series of dates with men who leave a lot to be desired for whatever reason (already dating somebody, not over their previous partner).

Despite being depressed she decides to attend a colleague’s party—quickly realizing she was in the wrong mood, she decided to leave, only to encounter a visiting Frenchman who persuades her to stay and have a drink with him. Ultimately they have a fantastic weekend together, and he tries to convince her to come with him back to Paris—to leave the States for the first time and take a chance on love. She refuses, but he leaves his mobile number.

Her miserable life doesn’t improve and she decides to take the plunge, heading to Paris.

Upon arrival, she loses the piece of paper with his digits. She could return home, but she decides to spend a few days looking for him, only to find him as she’s headed to the airport to catch her flight home—she takes the chance and stays.

It resonated—despite the fact that I found the acting slightly stiff and the film somewhat choppy.

I want a Frenchman to sweep me off my feet. I mean, given the right guy I would gladly move to a new land and take the chance. Probably not France, but Mr. Right, of The Netherlands, Spain, Portugal, Germany, or… well, you get the idea.

For the most part, I’m happy in Weimar, but there are times, when I am in cities with gay bars, gay bookstores, and gay coffee shops, that the lack of a vibrant gay life in Thüringen hurts. It sucks when I have to go to Leipzig to find a decent gay bar; its frustrating to find Berlin crawling with hot Mohawked Punks; and frustrating to realize that Bloomington, Indiana, with roughly the same population, has a decent gay bar and gay scene.

Gosh, it sounds like I’m whining, and I guess I am.

We make choices in life, not all of mine have been great—but nobody makes the right choice everything. Again, I’m mostly happy in Weimar. I’m very happy in Europe.

I just want Mr. Right.

6 comments to English Mistake

  • Gee, many of the things you note are why I now seriously considering leaving the US if my citizenship in EU Country X is recognized. *ugh*

    Oh, I got your card! Thanks. Thus far I’ve managed to avoid opening it before the date you specified.

  • Gee, I just realized I have an “English mistake” in my previous comment. DOH!

  • B.

    I can see how it would be tough at times, but at least you’re busy living your life and taking chances. How many sit at home waiting for something perfect to come along… growing more bitter by the day because of all the time wasted?

    Mr. right (in all his mohawked glory) is bound to come along soon…

  • Ed

    I sit at home and ask myself where is he…say I saw a T-Shirt the other day which read: So you’re looking for Mr. Right? Can I fuck you until he shows up? hahaha!

  • Hah! You’ve finally admitted that you want Mr. Right! I knew it was only a matter of time.

    BTW, I’ve tagged you.

  • @cq: I wouldn’t expect the EU to be the answer for all the problems I described. Remember, Frankfurt has a horrid urban center. (and 20 lashes with a wet noodle for your error)

    @B: Maybe Mr. Mowhawk is an expat blogger that I’ll meet next week.

    @ed: Cute T-Shirt

    @Cathy: Tag answered 🙂