**With only a few months left here, I find myself going back and trying to make good of all the ideas and notebook scribblings I´ve had for this blog. One concept people have actually been asking me to write about is dating... while I has been quite a while since I´ve ¨dated¨ here, it was an experience to say the least...***
Since moving to Honduras, lots of friends back home have asked, ¨What is it like dating in Honduras?¨ To which I unconsciously reply ¨uff.¨ It is not that good men do not exist in Honduras, it is just that the cultural concept of ¨good¨ is a little different... In a macho society where more women = more manly, men are pressured to have at least one ¨other,¨ and extramarital affairs are presumed. There are definitely nice, monogamous men, but much like the states- the good ones are always taken ;) My foray in the dating world was brief but pretty typical, according to Honduran friends.
So here it is: the story of how I ¨struck out¨ with dating in Honduras.
Strike 1:
Newly single, I notice an attractive guy get on the bus and think to myself, ¨I am not ready to date, but if I were, he´d be my type.¨ Atractive guy just happens to be on the same bus on the way home and strikes up a conversation. He just happens to be a health promoter working on childhood nutrition (insert sigh) in the next municipality, and is studying English- note: He had also conveniently just finished a long term relationship and was just looking for ¨a friend,¨ ... awww. Attractive guy and I talk for the hour and a half bus ride, I give him my number, and he invites me to lunch the next weekend. cheque! Saturday he shows up with his motorcycle- he had called to see if I was game and I said Yes(!) given you have an extra helmet. He shows up with a styrafoam child´s bike helmet, and in my confused state, we are off. We go to a fantastic restaurant (fantastic because it is 98 degrees out and the restaurant has A.C.) It also has a flat screen tv which seems to captivate my date´s attention nearly the entire meal. Apparently he used up all of his conversation on the bus, because he had nothing left to say... until he invited me back to his house to meet his family... say what??? Well, why not I say, and back on the bike we go. The next hour and a half pass by, sitting in his parents´living room, on the other side of the room from my date, talking to Tio about the difference between public and private education systems, while somewhat less attractive guy watched tv & texted... Finally, back on the bike we go, through a rainstorm to get back home. I decided that Yovany was not my ¨other half,¨ upon which my coworkers told me: ¨Oh good, because he is married.¨ thanks for the heads up gals... Yovany continued to call for 8 months until I ¨lost¨ my phone...
Strike 2:
Javier and I met during Orocuina´s annual festival. He invited me to dance, and I declined. The next day, we bumped into each other at the cultural acts, and he spent the evening explaining the skits and jokes- even the raunchiest jokes he explained politely. He invited me out & I declined say that I was seeing someone, whom he met and hung out with the next day when we bumped into one another again... normally I would be leary of so much ¨accidental bumping,¨ but in a town of 4,000 it is hard not to bump. Fastforward 3 months. It´s Valentine´s Day and we again ¨bump.¨ Asking about my boyfriend, I lie and say we are still together. He says ok and that he´ll stop over to say hi the next day. Fast forward a month: we bump again at Ash Wednesday services, the first time I´ve seen him since he says he´ll stop by. He promises to stop over, and I say ¨no se preocupe ie don´t worry about it.¨ The next night he stops by, presents me with chocolate, a rose, and a teddy bear, and says he will stop back another night to talk and promptly bikes away. Javier never stops by, but this is when the calls begin. Every day, 3xs a day, 5 xs a day, 23 xs in one day... until I ¨lost my phone.¨ We bumped one last time where I explained about the phone but didin´t offer a new number. Javier continues to call the old number and although my friend answers and explains it is no longer my phone, he calls back 5 minutes later. After Javier´s first and only official visit to the Center, my coworkers informed me that Javier has a 1 year old daughter that he doesn´t support. I couldn´t help but think of the teddy ber and how she should have been the recipient and not me...
Strike 2.5 (foolish optimism strikes):
I met Carlos at a party a while back, and had been ignoring his texts, but decided what the heck, and finally caved in and said ¨hey.¨ We talked about getting together and hanging out with some friends- he was a mutual acquantaince of a fellow PC volunteer- had to be ok, right? We planned to hang out Friday night. Carlos calls Thursday and says ¨I have it all planned. You come into town, we get a bottle of wine and talk all night, and then you can stay here with me at my parent´s.¨ I never got together with Carlos and I found out a month later that he was only 2 weeks from being married!!! He continued to call until I ¨lost my phone¨...
Strike 3:
The doctor. Having not learned my lesson about men at bus stops- I started chatting with the handsome doctor while waiting for the bus back to Orocuina. Conversation continued on the bus as we both turned down seats to keep talking. The next day he stopped by after work and talked with Benicia- brownie points were scored. Two days later, at his suggestion, we went for an early morning walk. He is not only the first Honduran I´ve met that likes to exercise, but he is the first Honduran I´ve met who arrives early: 5:40am to begin walking at 5:45am! (Definitely not from these parts...) The next week he showed up with his cousin and popsicles, and from there a most elaborate courtship began. A month and a half of visits, bringing fruit, chocolate, tamales, homemade cheese, rosquillas, and microwave popcorn (you´d have to live in a technology limited country to understand what a delicacy microwave popcorn is here... :)) After our talks on politics, religion, travels, and life, I found out that the good doctor was previously an agricultural engineer and held a post in the evangelical ministry (which is dating code for monogamous). He also had absolutely no interest in moving to the states (code for not in it for the green card)- cheque!
Despite the fact that absolutely nothing had happened, I begin to vaguely contemplate what it would be like to create a life in Honduras. (The idea of an international paycheck and living someplace not the US sounded doable--- wasnt sure about the whole raising a family here-- but didn´t want to get too ahead of myself, did I?) Ironically- the minute I began to doubt this ¨idyllic life in the campo,¨ the good doctor stopped making house calls. (read: started to date one of his nurses) Some how, the doctor and I actually became friends and we now get together to chat about correlations between blood pressure and stroke or how to change prescription compliance behavior every few weeks/month. It is a welcome change of pace from discussing the weather, and there are no longer any gifts involved! :)
While dating is always a gamble, dating Hondurans proved to be a bit of a crapshoot. Although it was one interesting ride, I happily struck out and am not looking for an extra inning!