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His friends were nice, but didn’t really English, and he made little effort to include me in their conversations.
His friends seemed more willing to help me translate in restaurants than Pablo, who seemed more interested in flirting with the scantily-clad girl sitting next to him.
He couldn’t even help me order lunch, when he was the only one who spoke both languages fluently? My last week in Seville I dated Mario*, who was half Italian and half Spanish. Pissed he couldn’t bother to give me a heads up, I looked up taxi companies and scheduled a pick-up.
He took me to a rooftop bar with a view of Seville Cathedral and said he’d bring me to the airport Monday morning when I flew to Paris. I was starting to realize I shouldn’t count on men who know they’ll never see me again to keep their word.
I texted Will a picture of the view from my terrace and asked if he knew where I was — he guessed right.
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He took me to a hidden “secret bar” for tinto verano (chilled red wine with lemon-lime soda) and vino de pasas (raisin wine) — both were surprisingly good.
That weekend, we went to a music festival with his friends and danced to DJs and bands.
So at 26, single for the first time in my adult life, I decided to spend the summer traveling. In mid-June, I landed in Edinburgh and started swiping.
I matched with Nicholas* on Bumble, who was 29 and a pianist. He said he "liked foreign girls," but it never worked out because they eventually went home. On my last day, we hiked to the top of Arthur’s Seat, a hill overlooking the city. Probably not normal first date behavior, but this wasn't a normal first date.