Dispatches from the dating frontline

Dating is hard. There are many tomes and works, modern and throughout history, that attest to this distressing truth. Tolstoy knew it; Jane Austen had the measure of many a man. The love of your life doesn’t simply fall into your lap. Work must be put in.

And it seems we need help with it, too. So many guides, books, dating seminars: He’s Just Not That Into You, because Men Like Women Who Like Themselves, according to The Rules. It took Carrie Bradshaw 20 years to find a guy. Manhattan was a nightmare. And as an expat in this quirky country called Belgium, does it become that much more difficult to meet people than it is at home? Do we find our dating pool actually shrinks? Are we left feeling like a fish out of water, thrashing around looking for just anyone to get us a drink? Is dating as an expat even harder?                

The expat world can be wonderful. The job you’ve always wanted, friends from every continent, the chance to carve your way in the world. Plus no running into your boyfriend from when you were 15. But when it comes to dating, maybe its lack of rules and tradition is a disadvantage.

If you were at home, would expectation guide you? For many of us, so many people around us would be marrying and having children that maybe we’d be taking the hint too. In rural Ireland, “any sign of him to get married?” is regularly bandied around over a cup of tea. You know what you’re meant to do.

However, we’re sitting here instead, delighted with our careers but perhaps uncomfortably beginning to wonder if that’s going to be enough in 10 years’ time. Like everything in this expat life, it’s just not comparable to home, or indeed to just being a foreigner in a different country where you can assimilate into a predefined culture.

This is Belgium – you’re not sure what to integrate into anyway, and you’ve no idea which one of three native tongues and one broken one to start conversations in. It’s not like New York, talkative and super-sociable with its endless supply of available people. Brussels is a law unto itself. It’s unchartered territory, and there’s nobody to show you the way.

Here in Brussels, things often go a little something like this. You meet somebody. You get on superbly. You can’t believe your luck! Then you find out he’s moving to the Congo for a humanitarian mission, or that she’s got the internship of her dreams in Outer Mongolia and can’t have visitors. Brussels is often described as transient, and your enthusiasm for dating sure wanes a little after hearing your fourth rendition of “Damn, I’m only here for six months!”

An intense and passionate love affair begins, seeing the city through different eyes… Was Gare du Midi always this beautiful? Sojourns to the Grand Place at night, so delighted you’ve finally met someone to share it with in all its splendour. Wandering hand-in-hand around the Bourse, walking through Gare Centrale with only the scent of his aftershave taking your breath away, taking in the views from the top of Parking 58, seeing none of the cranes between here and the Atomium.

The dreaded plane comes, long-distance love ensues, with romantic but costly trips to their new home, much wringing of hands, long goodbyes, torment and Skype, as suddenly all of Brussels is available and ready to go out with you, but you are unfortunately betrothed to your faraway beau. You gradually begin to drift away from the saving-the-world types; you’d prefer if they were saving you, or at least themselves.

You turn your attention towards the people you know are staying put. You begin to casually eye up Flanders, wondering what a trip to Ghent might bring you. Maybe if you went to a random party in Liège? He might be there! The love of your life – maybe he was Belgian all along. But then you discover that it seems like Belgians don’t actually date; they all met each other when they were 18 and have been building their house ever since. There are none left.

Or you may have been struck down by the dreaded Compound Syndrome, where you start dating someone totally unsuitable due to lack of choice. You have the uncomfortable feeling of looking at your other half and wondering if you’d ever have given them a chance if you’d met them in your home country. Back to the drawing board.

When embarking on dating in a city like Brussels, there are many things to be taken into consideration that would not be an issue at home. Language can be a barrier – most people are simply not as confident in their second language. Chatting up your new workmate in bumbling French does not feel very sexy. A text message takes 20 minutes and a dictionary to compose.

Cultural differences are another thing to navigate, especially for the men. Some girls want doors held open for them. Others are content for you to let them slam in their faces in the name of feminism. One guy always wanted to hold my handbag for me. I was indignant, if only on a practical level. How did he think I had managed till now? The North-South Europe divide. And that’s before we move to other continents and cultural practices. It’s exhausting.

Then there’s socialising. In my native Ireland, a pub is considered a perfectly acceptable place to meet your future partner. It’s as normal as going to Delhaize is here. But my Belgian friends are horrified, thinking only unseemly types trawl the bars. At home, we Anglos tend to rely on the demon drink to get chatting. Here, they’re all just eating. It’s so civilised. Where is the banter? Oh, it’s tough.

Is it time to take matters into our own hands? Like the go-getting that got us here – should we make it happen? I have to disagree. I believe it’s less Hitch-style precision and more about chance: even speaking as a consummate organiser, when it comes to dating, I can’t help thinking orchestrating is not always the way to go. You can’t conjure up a partner, no matter how many photography classes you go to. But on the other hand, the temptation to take control is understandable, because if not, we’re leaving one of the biggest parts of our lives to chance. Will it really happen when we least expect it?

So, you might not be able to plan who you end up with, but there are things you can do to try to meet more people and improve your dating life. They’re not going to find you at home on your couch (unless you end up falling for your Bulex repair man, who, knowing boilers in Belgium, you’ll probably end up seeing quite a lot of).

Try a new party, a new group of friends, a new hobby. Try online dating, if you’re feeling adventurous. And remember, opportunity can knock at any moment. You just have to be open to it. A friend went to the laundrette and came home with an extra sock and a date with a Frenchman. And I thought that only happened in Seinfeld. Change your habits just a bit and you will be surprised who comes into your life.

Even though it may have its difficulties, dating often depends on your willingness to adapt and your ability to reframe things in a positive way. It’s hard to do this all the time but it is important to look at the positives. To help me in this I turned to some fellow expats. “When it comes to dating, Brussels is a quite an open place,” says Andrea, an Italian who tells me that the gay dating scene in Brussels is much easier than in his own country, with very little homophobia. That’s something a city can be very proud of.

Brussels is also friendly, as American exchange student Meghan testifies: “I find it fairly easy to meet new people, especially if you speak English.” (Score one for the old lingua franca there.) Whereas Irishwoman Anne sums it up pragmatically. “People are everywhere, I think it’s just taking the time to be open and chatting to someone; a lot of people are in the same position – being away from home – and are open to talking to new people.” Already makes you feel less alone, doesn’t it?

Is dating in Belgium truly any more difficult than it would be at home? Maybe we need to have more faith in life. Like most things in our lives involving people and emotions, we can’t strategise for the ultimate partner. Yes, it can be confusing over here, negotiating relationships in our multicultural life. But apparently, when you meet the right person, it’s just easy. 

This article was first published in The Bulletin Newcomer, Autumn 2014