On the Art of Dating By Camila Santos Simmons

My friend and I were having the time of our lives that summer when we were 18. Between ice-cream cones and alcopops, cover bands and beach volleyball, we always spared some time to engage in conversation with interesting boys. Or sometimes non-interesting boys.

Two single ladies were easy victims of smooth talkers in polo shirts. These two guys came up to us with the good old: "Do you come here often?"

When you are a teen, you haven't (as yet) heard the question so many times that you can easily recognise it as a pick up line.

The lads went on asking about where we were from, what we studied, star sign... (yawn)

My always political friend kept answering to the questions with a smile whereas I (borderline rude) would roll my eyes, answer questions with yes or no and/or look at my watch.

One of the guys finally felt uncomfortable and asked me if there was anything wrong.

"Yes" I replied, looking into his eyes for the first time. "You have a black bean stuck in your front tooth".

And that was the end of them.


in Tramandaí - Rio Grande do Sul, Brazil

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Living life between Australia and Brazil, enjoying all things travel and writing at my blog.

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