Soltera in Santiago: I’m Not Into You, Cachai?
If you want me to fall for you, you’ve got to give me something good to trip over.
And quite frankly, I’ve come across one too many guys lately that think that the core of seduction is persistence and if they simply stalk you into oblivion, you should be more than happy to date them. Um, negative. At least on my part. And unfortunately, enough women out there do firmly live by the idea that persistent pressure is attractive and bastante flattering.
But unfortunately for me, I keep getting mistaken for one of those women and have had to dodge some guys who just don’t seem to get the picture that I am, in fact, not interested. Keep in mind that I’m not talking about men that are confident, know what they want, and go after it. I’m talking about the men that are being obscenely persistent in the face of rejection.
And this is exactly what I encountered during Santiago’s crappy weather streak a few weekends back with a rather obnoxious aggressor, so to speak.
Anyone else wonder why as soon as a little drizzle of rain hits Santiago streets, people barricade themselves in their apartments like it‘s the apocalypse? Well, that’s what I was asking myself when I couldn’t get any of my amigos to go out the last time it down-poured. And by down-poured, I mean there was a couple drops of rain that automatically flooded the streets because of the badly clogged drainage system. This consequentially caused no one to want to leave their camas calidas that night; talk about fome.
But after much persuasion, I met up with some friends at a bar in Patronato that I had never been to or heard of and I thought it would be a nice switch up. So I walk into this bar and the scent of incense smacks me in the face. I notice a guy throwing a techno ball around while dancing and a glare of psychedelic lighting is burning my eyes. This was clearly not my scene. In fact, I’d rather be stuck on the Transantiago at rush hour after having three cups of Nescafe than then go there again.
But while I was there I actually started talking to a friend of a friend (Mario) that had come with the group. We bonded over our mutual agreement that the bar was only to be entered if you were already high on ecstasy.
Well, Mario asks me to hang out the next night and I agreed since he seemed like a pretty chill guy. We went to a bar called Santo Secretos in Manuel Montt where I was introduced to cerveza pomelo, or grapefruit beer. As weird as it sounds, it was delicious. I decide Mario is pretty good amigo material and I don’t really feel a connection with him other than that and I assumed he felt the same. As we were leaving the bar, we gave the classic beso on the cheek and called it a night.
Then, the next night Mario texted me and asked what I was up to and if I wanted to hang out. I invited him to come out with some friends in a group to go dancing and at the end of the night, he offered to walk me home because it was close by my apartment. I thought, how caballero of you but I kept my guard up by repeatedly calling him amigo so he knew where we stood. And then when we got to my door, he asked if he could come up and use my bathroom. I half-wondered if this was a ploy to just come upstairs but I figured, he was nice enough to walk me home, so I agreed.
Using the bathroom turned into chatting with me for almost an hour. I basically had to kick him out by yawning and walking him to my door. Then, as we went in for the kiss on the cheek, he moved uncomfortably close to my lips and I jumped back out of surprise asking what the hell he was doing. He looked embarrassed and then said he was just trying to say goodbye and missed my cheek. Sure, amigo.
The following night, I get a text from Mario asking what my plans were for the night. I told him I was busy. Then, he calls me again later in the night around what I like to call, la hora de booty. Still not answering. Little by little, Mario starts to wedge his way in to my life in any way possible.
He sends me texts every couple of days asking how I‘m doing and if I had any plans. He asks my friends if my phone is working or if I’ve been really busy lately. His texts turned into Facebook messages asking if I was going to a party of a mutual friend. Apparently this weon was not getting the hint that I was 100% not feeling it.
Finally, when I see him out in a group of friends by accident, he ignores me, which was honestly a huge surprise and an even bigger relief. Until later in the night when I get this text message…
“I decided I don’t like you. You are tan pesada. I’m not wasting any more time on you.”
Was this guy just popping pills or what? When did I ever remotely give him the idea I wanted something else other than friends?
And call me naïve but why is it that when a man buys you a drink, asks to hang out in a manner you believe to be platonic, or does anything remotely nice for you, it almost always turns into the belief (on his part) that you owe him something?
It’s like those crazy street dogs that run after the cars as they go by. They only do it for the fun of chase but they have no idea what they’d do with it if they actually caught it. And as soon as the car hit’s a traffic light and they’ve “won it over”, they turn around and start chasing something else. Was this guy under the impression that if he kept chasing me that I was eventually going to turn around and think, ‘wow, you just changed my entire thought process about my interest in you, let’s date washito rico!’
Moreover, the women that give in to this are just as guilty and many even consciously lead men on, which is clearly just as bad but I can’t help but stand by the fact that any man who does something chivalric for ulterior motives is nothing more than a narcissistic weon.
If any of you would like to follow Soltera in Santiago in Español, check out www.SolterainSantiago.com. You can also find her on her new Facebook page: Soltera in Santiago.
Soltera in Santiago
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