I have a confession to make. I find a lot of languages attractive. Unfortunately, I always find it difficult to commit. Now, I must be honest, it isn’t them…it’s me. And I know people say this all the time and it’s terribly cliche, but I mean it. I’m a lazy lover. I guess I should start from the beginning.
It started with French. I knew from a mile away that French would be a challenge and that excited me. Everyone else was interested in Spanish, but Spanish to me was old news. French was the new language on the block–classy, sophisticated, hard to get. I thought I could conquer her though. Boy was I wrong about that one. In the beginning she was easy, she gave herself up to me easily, building up a boldness and confidence in me that I never knew I had. It was as simple as un, deux, trois. It wasn’t until the second year that she showed her true colors. She flayed me, embarrassed me, left me tongue-tied. My nights were spent desperately trying to unravel her mysteries. After two years together, I said au revoir. I should have tried harder, been more patient with her. But soon after I had met another.
To be continued.