Happiness is a cigar called flirting- Day 6

My dear readers,

Like I have promised I will deliver my rapport about flirting on Tinder, in a couple minutes.

First I would like to answer on the curious ladies questions, about the last Thursday and my handy man.

So on the last Thursday, at 8 o’clock AM, I saw the van in the possession of a correct logo, parked in front of my house.

What is the rush, you wonder? Well I was seen as an emergency case, as I got to find out a bit later. Maybe I just radiate that nowadays, God knows!

I was honestly disappointed when a saw that the back and the lower back, sticking out of the van, are not accompanied with the blond hair. Not my handy man of course:-(

The further inspection of available material, didn’t displeased me, thou. When opening the door I got to be confronted with a dark haired, blue eyed, extreeemely handsome man:-).

I swear by God, Dutch men can be really good-looking, but this is statistically impossible!!!

The owner of this company is running a model agency and not a technical support enterprise. And we are probably talking woman.

And she definitely reads my blog.

I will not continue about this anymore, it goes too much in to my privacy and I have to leave some space for Tinder; but if you need some reparations at home and you would like to check if I’m telling the true, please contact me. I’m still waiting for my bill to come in, and like I have warned you: they are charging per hour.

And before we go to Tinder one more digression.

I went to Dance delight with Jeanine and she told me that the curly, shy one, from the Roman army, will be there.

And he was… dancing around and with every available fine- looking girl. I wonder which one was The girl-friend-if -any?!

The curly one, remember, playing the pole, no legs, no arms, no hips…That reminded me of my grandma’s saying “Never judge the horse you didn’t ride on”.

I was so taken by the surprise, that I could not take my eyes of him. My God, he was almost… attractive.

I took some time to inspect the movements of his hips, because that is where all the magic should be living. Some researches show that man who can dance, are statistically better in bed, and they have better chances in fort planting.

There is an evolution theory who speaks about parallel in between a man dancing and a man fighting. For both mentioned, good health, co-ordination, stamina, strength, athleticism, rhythm, balance, suppleness, speed, an ability to predict and react to the movements of others, are necessary. Ideally, a woman wants a man who could, if the need arose, defend her and her children effectively, but who would not seek out fights without cause.

And where is the best to check this qualities of the man, than on the dance floor?

So ladies, be aware!

Curly, indeed, strolled around the dance floor; crashing the protestant’s nation’s rule of refraining, swinging his hips around the Ladies.

Dear, dear. I got to admit that when he let his snakes out, he is poisonous.

The whole impression was pretty good, especially because it had an element of surprise in it. I definitely didn’t see this coming. Not out of him.

My mean Serbian friends could not call him on his Dutch seagull dance: “one leg up, one leg down, arms wide spread, left and right, beak forward” … and the train.

All though the further observation revealed bit stiffness around his shoulder-neck area. I don’t know if this comes from some genetic deviation caused by wearing the collars in the Golden Age, or the traditional clog dance which puts the arms in certain position, but it is present.

I tried to let him go and let myself go on the Swan lake music, which replaced Samba, but not…when other girls went to ballet, I’m afraid I have played in the mud. I’m also too fiery for the Classic.

But enough about this – The Tinder time.

So I got the app, which asked me to reveal some personal information’s, photos and my friends list on the Facebook.

Why on the Earth they want my friends list?!! I refused to give them all that and the app refused to post my photo on. Well I’m going without photo, this time; I’m just in the right mood to fight with the robots!

The app offers, thou, a nice selection of the available man.

In California.

I love California, but wouldn’t it be handier to help me with the guys from the same continent? Not really in to the Cybersex.

Anyhow, I decide not to lose my temper here, and to see what’s in the offer tonight.

Per guy, you can see one or more photo’s, his age, Facebook name, and here and there bit of text about his preferences. Very basic!

That is kind-a good for a superficial girl, obsessed with the appearances, like me. I do not have to fool anybody around that I had ever chosen a man, because he had some inner qualities.

So here what the available guys say about themselves on Tinder (nick name meat market, by some gls on the Facebook):

  • A body builder in the mirror, naked to his waist. (I’m so sexy that the mirror will burst-into the tears probably)
  • Guy who wears a teddy bear mask and has two boys on his side. (I’m a family man; do you want to be a mammy bear?)
  • Three guys with their fingers up. (Together we can keep one girl happy)
  • The photo of the waterfall, in the distance small human figure visible. (If you like me come and find me)
  • In a builder shirt, all hairy. (“Veet” me baby)
  • 18 years old, naked. (Just got the children’s lock removed from my phone)
  • New York police officer. (If anyone is bullying you baby)
  • The Belgian in the Orange shirt. ( I can blend ).
  • 21 year old with muscles. (I’m in the gym since my 13th)
  • 101 year old. Still single to remind you on your future)
  • Ups, scary. (I cannot remember if I’m a good twin, or an evil one)
  • Looks like he is going to cry. (Never crossed my mind I will end up on Tinder)
  • With a golden necklace and the silver ring. (I love Metal-lica)
  • With a huge beer glass. (I’m an alcoholic)
  • With his son in the matching pants. (We are around the same age)
  • With my girlfriend. (Try to be hotter than she)

What people talk about themselves in public, dear God!!

  • Ups ! Father of my son’s friend. (Ha ha what should I do? Like, time to spread the news around the neighborhood, that I’m single)
  • And the list goes on; in the auto, on the auto, under the auto, next to the racing car, in the racing car, on the motor, next to the motor, on the boat, in the plain, next to the plane, next to the fight plane; tatoo, more tattoo, shirt tattoo; muscles, more muscles, even more.; glasses, dark glasses, glasses In the hair, glasses in the hand, in the uniform, more uniform, even more..

And just when I got tired…

A notification that a guy likes me.

The principle on Tinder is as follow. The guys you do not like, you just sweep away, and the ones you like get a heart from you. If he gives you this heart, you are the match, and you can talk.

In sweeping everybody away I gave some random guys my heart, and here we go. I like him, he likes me; our romance can start.

  • He at 20:42: “Hi beautiful how are you doing…your profile got my attention and it would be sincere pleasure to know you better GOD BLESS YOU”

Nice, he can feel my inner beauty from a distance and he is a nice religious man, who immediately sends me some blessed energy.

  • Me: “How do you know I’m beautiful, I do not have a profile photo yet 🙂
  • He at 21:13: “Thanks to take your precious time write me back on here…….I will really love to know where are you from and what are you doing for a living there”

Speaking with robot already?? I’m earning a lot, you keep on blessing me and I will start sending you the money, no problem.

  • Me: I’m from the Netherlands, and you?”
  • He at 21:25: “I’m a captain David Richardson from California I work for US army and I’m 45 years old. I’m currently deployed to western part of Africa due to my job and will deployed back to home very soon.”

The Captain America, of course, that is why he sounds like a robot.

  • Me: “Have you ever been in Europe?”
  • He at 21:31: “No I didn’t be in Europa but wish to be there one day.

Well I guess this is a Californian English.

  • Me: “Why don’t you come here than?”
  • He at 21:35: ”I will surely come very soon…let’s continued chatting and know each other more and more first. Baby I’m the man with only one heart and I know how to taking care of my woman and I know how to make my women feel for me till eternity.

Oh dear, a real man; to provide and protect, and make me yearn for him! It is not really necessary to see him dancing.

  • Me: ”I’m in. How do you do it, how would you make me love you forever?”
  • He at 21:40: “Well all things are possible when God is always support us in this relationship baby. We can love each other through chatting.”

Well dear gentlemen, who were hopping, I’m in a relationship now! It really goes fast now days, this relationship thing, and you have waited too long! I’m someone’s babe now.

  • Me: “You believe God would help us with all this distance? I’m a bit worried?”

I know God is almighty, but this is a new relationship, and it is a fragile thing.

  • He at 22:36: “Baby you don’t need to be worried about the distance cause its nothing when we love care and understanding each other”
  • He at 22: 39: “I’m getting my account deleted on here cause I found a good loving caring and understanding women on here. Do not worry, God has plans for you”


The Captain America has dumped me. At 22:36 I was still his baby, and at 22:39 he dumped me.

My first after marital relationship lasted wait .. 40 minutes.

It was a good though; we had love, care and understanding. More than many couples have now days.

And of course God has plans for me: to sacrifice my friend list so I get located, or to send me on Lexa or Relationship planet.

Please feel free to comment and have a lovely day:-) See you soon.

Happiness is a cigar called flirting- Day 5

Dear all,

My flirting mission is continuing, in spite my occasionally too busy life. It looks like once you set you intention on something, it starts rolling with the minimum effort on your side.

As you know, lately I set my intention on 3 things:

  1. flirting
  2. not flirting with Dutch guys, in spite the fact that in The Netherlands they are still majority   (Although some mean voices are spread about soon being outnumbered by the incoming migrants)
  3. not flirting with anyone, but, just by the wish of every tired, single mother on the Earth, having a guy delivered on my doorstep

Also, my mind was pretty occupied with the muscles, without my real consent.

So it is a tired Friday afternoon, I’m busy with my errands, when I hear the doorbell. I hesitate to open, expecting one of the numerous kids to be in front of the door; looking for my first born. Drag myself downstairs; open the door, only to see all my thoughts from the previous month manifested.

Thank you Universe! (mind me to be more specific next time)

He says:”Hi, I’m from xxx company , to fix the hitting, we had an appointment today, true?

“My thermoregulation was just fine, until you haven’t ringed my bell, my dear”,  I’m tempted to say.

He looks like he needs some warming up, standing there on the rain, poor kitten.

(The lonely guy in the rain, is his song!


Well it is a cliché; but amusing one. Made me think on one of those movies, you know, when she opens the door, and within the couple minutes you have more than a glimpse in hers/handy-man’s less public parts. Well, if you rewind, it is within a few seconds, by that matter.

But it does not happened to real people, right?

He is 29- ish, 1,90m tall-ish, well build, blond, blue eyed, handsome Dutch electrician.  And his hair is wet -ish, and he smells male-ish.

Well, how many companies have that in their offer? I bet they send him only when women call.

I let him in, indeed we had an appointment, which slipped my mind all together. He carries a toolbox and a paper which claims that he spent ½ h riding to my home, even if his company is around the corner. Therefore I do not have time to dream about, he is from the ones rented on an hour unfortunately.

I show him the resting place of my recently deceased 2 ways thermo-regulator. He tries to make his way in there, crashing my flower pot and spilling the water all around the hallway.

That is what I always say: you let a man in your life, and 5 minutes later you get to clean after him.

He offers to clean himself, feeling from slightly uncomfortable (if he is a protestant) to enormously guilty (if catholic). It is difficult to estimate, but both ways he is now shaken, and will be an easier flirting target.

I normally inspect what people, who come to repair my things, do. Not that I think I will learn a lot, but it is just nice to see the competent man in action. Even if they do not know what is up, they will still hold their ropes, and appear confidant.

This one has a gentle approach. He, after all, works with electricity. He also has a different kind of tools, which my not yet 2 year old find fascinating. Youngster picks one tool after another, from the toolbox, and hand it over to the gentleman in action, naming every and each one with “K-Ha”. My baby is growing to be a man, no effort put in! That is why he is less verbal, though.

You wonder here, why the baby is in the picture. In the non- real life, the lady of the house, opening the door, would at the worst, have a puppy in her arms. The puppy will be mysteriously gone, behind the scene, soon the handy man start using his tools. In real life there is 3 of us kneeling on the 1 square meter, in the hallway; all 3 of us using the tools which are on our disposal.

I, intuitively, have put the yellow shirt on, in the morning, which nicely accents my sun-tanned skin and my girls.

The blond, blue eyes, handsome, concludes that 2 way regulator still lives, but his colleague black box has passed away. So the guy from the other company, was mistaken, he says with “what could you expect” smile, and we do not have right part to finish our mission.

Oh don’t tell me you have to come one more time?!

I look at my son, silently: “You are going to the crèche, there you can learn to be man, by playing with the Lego’s!”

Then I make my eyes big and round and put “oh no” expression on my face. Guys so cannot resist girls with rounded faces and big eyes; it just triggers their protective instinct to much. I know this, and I use it a lot. And if you do not believe me, it is all over Google!

He rushes to show me the black box, so I can look on the internet for the price, and I don’t know how, but suddenly he holds it and I hold it and our hands are touching, our face’s are quite close and I really, really, want to say something preverbal like .. “K-HA”.

He senses that I’m bit unsettled, but he misinterpret it for my worry about the cold winter coming. He offers to show me the trick, how I can still use my hitting without the missing part.

Now we a kneeling on 0,5m2 (not my fault the hallway is narrow at this part) and he instructs me: “Handle down, hitting off; handle up, hitting on!”.

Am I the only one here, who has a dirty mind?!

He looks at me, checking if I have followed the instructions, and I hope he does not see my cheeks burning and me biting my lips, trying to stop the laughter emerging from my kidneys.

It is bloody warm, humid and amusing in this land of men, who kneel on 0.5m2 with you and talk business!

“If I forget to put it down, what will happen? “, I cover my smiles with the innocent face.

“Oh, it will get reeeeally hot in your house”, he replies nodding thoughtfully.

Please leave me comment under, and share your experiences with flirting in The Netherlands and globally.

Stay with me, I have explored Tinder in the meanwhile. “OH my God” is the only comment I will have on this, until the next Monday.

Happiness is a cigar called flirting – Day 4, part two

Dear readers,

So, in part one of the day 4 experience,  I have described our dancing adventure, until the moment when we found The Tortoise.

Now, we have the Roman unbreakable formation in front of us, and we need a strategy to deal with it.

The first suggestion is, to let Maraya and Luis, who work with guys all the time, to try and enter the brotherhood. Using their experience, they probably wouldn’t be recognized like” other”. Once being inside, in spite breaking some of the unwritten social rules, they could possibly, using the strategy of Trojan horse, get the rest of us in.                                  

Here we are mixing the Roman with Greek’s history, but there is more and more proofs that the time is not actually linear and that we can change the course of the events if we want. And we want!

The only thing we do not want is to apply typical Dutch way of flirting, where women take all the initiative, and guys passively wait for an intercourse.

The other idea, which we come with, is to slaw-back- dance the guy we find most attractive from the group. That basically means not keeping much distance in between us, if any. I do try this one, on the cutie I see dancing near by, but that jeans of his is apparently too tick, so I do not get anywhere.

I see my friends struggling too. This strategy just doesn’t work, it seems that being in a close of proximity of the woman or man’s body, do not associate the Dutchman on anything else, beside the crowded train on the Monday mornings.

Other dancing tricks which reveal our femininity/masculinity, also leave them completely cool. I have never been more frivolous in my dancing and still, I can not get any of them even to turn into my direction. Our only gain is that Luis gets to be more popular among the women present.

At this point I ask my Dutch friend Jeanine what is the matter with that guys, and she says, “nothing, they are just being Dutch”. I insist on the explanation and she adds, that it could be that they have girls at home (all 20 of them?), but yea this is around it, have fun!

To make things more clear from the male side, I ask my Colombian friend Luis if he thinks this is normal. He explains that, now he would definitely make a move; but 5 years ago he wouldn’t do anything himself about it. He thinks they are just not experienced enough.

Well this is just my life story, I’m always early for things happening. And I totally believe that Dutch men are going to change in 5 years time; if that gets to be set in their five years plans. They are, after all, hardworking and well organized.

The beer keeps flying around, and with all that moving around, the tension is created, finally. The results in that Maraya receives the whole glass of beer on her hair, with the rest of it landing on my shoes (well you asked for it girl, with your curiosity about how things work in The Netherlands) .

Maraya insists on them buying us some drinks, as a apology. Two of them, cutie and another one, seems to seriously discuss it with a cheese head (Dutch: kaaskop, meaning: Hollander; this one with markedly light hair, resembling the color of the cheese). Finally I see them shaking their heads. Nope, too expensive.

Well anyhow, The Tortoise is for the moment wide open, so I use my chances to start a conversation with the cutie, who stills recovers from the shock of being asked for the money.

I guess that now, when the formation who was protecting him from any harm, is wide open, he feels vulnerable, so I make the decision to be gentle.

I ask him sweetly why they are all wearing this shiny thingies around their body parts. It is not one of my best opening lines, but OK, fast improvisation is necessary and I, as magpie, do get attracted to the shinny things. He says that they are having a bachelor party, and that a cheese head is a groom, they’ve been North previously…

He asks if I like that, and I think for myself “yes when my kids wears them”, but I only say “yes”. Bitching around anyhow never brings you anything good. (Well as I hear, this rule applies only on non Dutch women.)

His body language is not closed, he swings in between opening and closing the formation, but he does not say anything anymore.

So I decide to go the Dutch way, and ask some more: “Is it common to drink a lot at the Dutch bachelor parties?” Well that is Dutch way, after all:  “Doe normaal, dan do je al gek genough” (be normal, that is crazy enough). He come closer and makes a physical contact. Familiarity of the ways relaxes him, obviously.

“No”, he replies, “we can not drink, we need to protect our groom from all the beautiful ladies, who might want to steal him”.

What?! He is flirting! Oh my God. This is it?! I wish someone may confirm it. I’m flirting with a Dutch man. Or not? Maybe he is just being nice?

“Well if you drink more, you might be stolen from some beautiful lady, you know”, I give a hint. I’m now Dutch direct, right?

“I don’t think so”, he replies. Silence. The formation still open. Physical contact still present.

Is this now no, to me, or to the beautiful ladies of this world, or it is just a line to continue the conversation?

When did the flirting became so difficult?! I wish someone just would inform me why his nonverbal language and verbal silence are not speaking the same thing?

I’m probably the victim of the cultural differences here, but my the first rule of flirting is, have fun. That is why you do flirting! And I do not have any. I’m just trying not to be me.

That leads to me turning my back on him in frustration. It feels really sore and disappointing.

Like a kid, you know, when you learn to blow the balloons, and you think you know how to do it. And than you suddenly get one, which is particularly hard. So you blow and blow and it does not work, and you wonder what are you doing wrong? These are the cultural differences. The hard balloons!

To release the pressure of having to, for last ten years, deal with the cultural differences , and soothe my little me, who was once rejected on the playground from the boy with the name Zeljko (literal meaning  “one who is wanted”), I start composing.

Ruben where’s your trousers?

Deep voice recite:

“For many hundred’s of years,

In the lowlands of Netherlands

man have given up wearing the trousers..”

And than comes the song:

“I’m  just down from the Silent guys

I’m not big but I’m awful shy

All the girls shout as I walk by,

Ruben, where’s Your Trousers?..”

Well I haven’t really thought up this all by myself, it is a old Scottish song https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xIgaSwsqAf0,  just adjusted for the occasion.

That amuses me, so I can finally get over Ruben and Zeljko, all together, and move on.

In the mean while, the Roman formation got broken on other places and I see one sweet curly one not knowing where to watch first. He goes from one to other girl in our group and when he gets too be noticed he looks away. He has this big blues eyes and beside that reminds me on my ex. I’m not sure I like that, hence the frustration again, so I decide to do some 4 minutes of staring exercise.

New York psychologist, Professor Arthur Arun, has been studying the dynamics of what happens when people fall in love. He has shown that the simple act of staring into each other’s eyes has a powerful impact.

He asked two complete strangers to reveal to each other intimate details about their lives. This carried on for an hour and a half. The two strangers were then made to stare into each others eyes without talking for four minutes. Afterwards many of his couples confessed to feeling deeply attracted to their opposite number and two of his subjects even married afterwards.

Well this is all nice and fine, but I get like 4 seconds to look at his blue eyes. I repeat this 3 more times, and get the same reaction. Jeanine says, he is just shy, she can see that. I can see that too, but honestly I play kike-boo often enough in my house. I’m done flirting with Dutch men.

In the meanwhile Jasna get noticed and addressed from one of them, they seems to have a nice chat, but he leaves just like he has appeared. I ask what was that all about, she share the same information, 21 of them, bachelor party … somewhere else North on the beach are better parties…and leaves ..no explanation. …She probably gave a wrong answer, she jokes.

Like I would invest, at this moment, going  Nord for a better party. It would just unnecessary cost me some petrol. Now you see, my costumer mentality, I also want some value for my money (see my other article One pound of something please….).

One 50+ women smiles at me when ever I look at her direction. Now I remember that she was also winking on me in front of the toilet. I totally understand her. After all, one of my friends did change her sexual orientation in The Netherlands.

Jasna starts a pool dance and the shy, curly one is playing a pool. He literally stands there, arms next to his body, and … he stands! I can not see if he is blushing, it is too dark, but I can see that his face is twitching. Man, you can feel his pain! And you can experience this amazing stamina of his Germanic tribes : “What ever you do to me, I’m not cheating on my girlfriend!” and “I’m not leaving ether!”

Jeanine lose it, and goes to save her fellow compatriot from further suffering. He accept the conversation with a fine relief, and they go on talking. After some time, the rest of us had enough of flirting, and we decide to move to 70s room, Abba, dancing queen and “I’m having the time of my life”.

We leave her there, knowing that she is safe. After all, if she do not attack him, he is not going to attack her, for sure.

I got to say that we had a good time. Laughed a lot! No people got hurt. No drinks got shared. The cultural differences didn’t ruin the evening.

Jeanine got safely escorted home by the contubernium (eight legionaries of the Roman army). She said they were very nice and indeed the shy, curly one had a girlfriend.

Looking for a conclusions? Dutchmen as always, in their flirting skills,  appeared to be nice, reliable, passive, misers and sorry but I got to say: awfully boring.

We decided to try following groups next time: British (they get drunk and remove they pants as a part of their flirting strategy; gotta remember to put same good lace on), Irish (they invite you on a drinking contest; mind me to practice my drinking skills), Polish (pay attention more on the inner qualities; should read some recently published book, maybe), Germans ( fraulein do all the work ; ow not sure we should repeat this experience!), Columbians (que culaso mamita! -What an ass, Mama; no problem in that department, luckily), Serbians (they live for flirting; God how I miss that!) and the rest…. 

And I love THIS cultural differences!