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Perhaps it's genetic

Thursday, 06 May 2004 03:20 PM

I may have discovered why my romantic life continues merely to limp along: I'm in the wrong country. Apparently I should move to England.

"The standard way of meeting someone in England is you get drunk and meet them at a party and end up snogging them—and then you go on a date if you like them," my new acquaintance Carolyn told me. "So I’ve been here 10 months, and I’m still single." Carolyn is stunning, blond, smart, fun. She’s early 30’s, good job in TV. "I feel sort of like we’re living in the 1950’s—like I have to wait for some guy to ask for my number and call me, and I have to play my part in it."

Actually, I did date an English fellow two years ago (was it that long ago? yeep!), but there was no snogging or drinking or other rampant easy-goingness. In fact, as I think back on the Brits I've known from grad school and elsewhere, the key common element among them has been their indirectness--a seeming combination of discomfort and self-effacement, plus a simple inability to get to the point. Perhaps they let loose only on their home turf.

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