I Attract Losers, Volume 10 -- Special Edition!

Contrary to popular belief, I got to Loser #10 before I left, but because it happened the weekend before I came over here, I haven't had a chance to write it up. Actually, it's a combination of two guys with similar qualifications. Plus, I'm gonna throw in a few short ones, and, what you've all been waiting for, the omnipresent Mauri-loser!


Dense Loser: Thank God I met you before I left

So the Friday before I went to Africa, I was at a bar in Florence hanging out with some friends (a reoccurring theme, I know, but I was headed to a dry country folks) and I got my beer and was going to walk back over to my friends when I was stopped by My-Life-Purpose-Is-To-Waste-Your-Time #1. He offered to buy me a beer, regardless of the fact that I clearly had a full one in my hand that he just watched me get. Well, after talking to him for a minute, I explained that I was on the way over to see some friends that I wouldn't be seeing for a while, so thank you and excuse me. Of course that can't be the end of the conversation; he has to know where I'm going and what I'm going to be doing there, etc. So after I tell him, he actually says, "If I give you my address, you'd write me?" What the hell? How would I even BEGIN that letter?

Dear Random Guy I Met in Bar,
Though I barely remember your face, and never saw your eyes because of those snazzy sunglasses you had the foresight to wear in the bar in the middle of the night [Hadn't we established by 90's that this fashion statement is indeed NOT cool?], and I certainly have no idea as to your name--though I'd imagine it to be something like Weasel--I feel like we made a connection, so I'm going to write you as often as I can, and you can tell me all about your life and how the drug smuggling business is going.

So I just told him that the mail system there is so bad that sometimes it takes letters almost 2 years to get there and I'd be back by then, but thanks, it was nice to meet you, and now I'm going to go hang out with my friends.

I got FIVE steps and get stopped AGAIN. His intro was priceless: "I saw homeboy over there talking your ear off." And you're about to do what exactly? Trying to avoid wasting more of my time, I got straight to the point and said I couldn't really talk because I need to go talk to my friends. Shame on me for thinking this might work. It ended up in the same place; I explained the 2 years thing and that I was only going to be in the country for two more days. He responded earnestly, "2 days? Man, I don't have much time do I? We have to spend all day together, and really stretch it out and make it last." Damnit. I knew I would regret planning to spend my last few days packing and being with my best friends and family. I should have left them open just in case I met the man of my dreams. That'll teach me.


At any rate, here are a few random incidents that perhaps were just not well-thought out:

-[After confusing me with a much thinner girl, he says approvingly:] Damn girl! You sure have gained some weight! Mmmmm hmmmm!

-Telling someone that you've "fantasized" about her is NOT a good pick-up line.

-Spending HOURS awkwardly standing at someone's counter in painful silence is not an effective wooing technique.

-After spending 10 minutes of smoothly explaining to me, "Yo baby, I'm a lova [ghetto-speak for "lover"] not a hata. I'm a lova not a hata," he promptly turns around and--complete with clenched fist--screams in the face of his opponent: "I WILL FUCKING KILL YOU!" Convincing, eh?


And now onto the Mauritanians:

The best part of about the Mauritanian brand of loser is that they're always sober. Alcohol is illegal and basically the only people who drink here are those of us from other countries who make it ourselves or smuggle it in. So that means that this pure, unadulterated version of loser has nothing but his own badass self to blame.



So I was walking from the market one day and someone stopped me by invoking the most annoying sound he could come up with, something that basically sounds like a snake hissing. Against my better judgment, I asked what he wanted and he said "Oh you want to learn French? I have these great French book! Very easy!" He repeated this several times so I had to repeat several times that I have a great French book, thanks. No. Thank you. I have a French book. Thanks, No I have one already. Thanks. No. NO.

He finally got the idea and then got down to the business of what he really wanted to say: "Okay, I want to meet you." So I asked his name and told him mine and said "Okay then." He said again, "I want to meet you," so I said "Um, yeah we just did that, that's what just happened. We just met." But that's not what he meant; to make his point clear he said, "I want to meet you. AT MY HOUSE." Oh language barriers...

Then there's the daily marriage proposal that goes something like:
"Madam, des fruits?"
"No, merci."
"Madam, la marriage?"
No fruit for me, but I could definitely go for some marriage! What's your name again? Mohammed, no kidding? (By the way, it's not a stereotype; at least every 3rd person really is named Mohammed.)

Saying I'm married (not just engaged) has been a major step in simplifying my life over here. And it is especially helpful to mention that he's going to be visiting VERY VERY soon, as God wills it, of course. It's pretty crazy how you can ask for something in the market or from a taxi driver, and after you've gotten the answer, about half the time, the next question will be something involving "Your boyfriend/husband/etc." and where he is or if you have one, and if you don't have one, surely you want a Mauritanian to fill the void, right? Like me? Yes? You come to my house?

Unfortunately, since my local language skills are lacking (read: non-existent), I'm sure I'm missing out on some great lines, so I'll have to work on my comprehension before I can fill y'all in on much more. Until then...