Dating in Amsterdam and the Expat Lady
Dating in Amsterdam is never easy for expats. It’s time to revisit our heroine, the expat lady. As you may recall, we first encountered her when she’d just moved to Amsterdam and was getting used to Dutch directness. She’d recently turned forty years old, and is a newly divorced single professional that has just moved to Amsterdam. We join her on a date with ‘The Koen’.
The Indecent Proposal
(From the Expat Lady Strikes Back)
The Conservatorium Hotel
Koen wasn’t too pleased that his date decided to stay and eat at the hotels brasserie. When it was time to get the bill he decided to be honest (and polite) with her. “Listen, I’m doing my best not to say the wrong thing here, so bear with me a moment. The bill is pretty expensive, especially as you kept drinking wine, ate a starter and dessert. So what’s normal here in the Netherlands is that we go Dutch. On the other hand, if we are going to have sex after this then I don’t mind paying as then it’s a good return on my investment. So what do you think?”
The Expat Lady had what could be described as an out-of-body experience. She saw herself sitting in a fabulous location, with a man who obviously thought so little of her that he seriously believed that she would have sex with him for the price of a meal. Attempting to hide her anger, she calmly replied “Why Koen, of course we are going to have sex, I would have thought that would be obvious to a man of the world such as yourself.”
Cause and effect
Visibly relieved, he relaxed and motioned to the waiter and quickly paid the bill. With some urgency in his voice he said “Well come on let’s get going then.” He hurriedly put on his coat and practically marched her out of the hotel. “Your place or mine?” He asked with wide eyes, perspiration on his forehead, and a demeanour that reminded her of a puppy she once owned as a child. “Koen darling, we’ll head to my place. It’s not too far, so let’s walk. As they walked, she asked him about his past experiences dating in Amsterdam. He was considerably taller than her, and clung onto her like a rough looking teenage girl seen recently by the Shallow Man, gripping a counterfeit Louis Vuitton handbag on the Amsterdam Metro.
“Well as you know the Koen is a bit of player, so yes I’ve invaded a few hostile territories in my time, hahaha. If you want world peace, forget diplomats, just send in the Koen to make love, not war, hahaha.”
“Oh really?” She said incredulously, “so if you’re such a great lover, why are you still single?” He shrugged his shoulders. “When you own a Stallion, it’s difficult to keep it tamed you know? For example, I was dating this model, Yolanthe. She was all over the Koen like a zwerver on hot frites, but she kept asking me for presents! She was after my money, and I told her ‘Yolantha, you don’t need expensive gifts, dating me is priceless’, but it wasn’t enough for her, and then she left me for a second rate Dutch pop singer, and now she’s dating a footballer. She’s really let herself go, you should see her lips, they look as if she tried to swallow two halves of a tennis ball. If I’d still been with her and she’d tried to do that to herself, I’d have said ‘Yolantha, doe het niet, je lippen zijn dik genoeg’, zo ziet ze er belachelijk uit, gadverdamme. I’m sure that sometimes she wakes up in the penthouse that she shares with this footballer and wishes she was still with the Koen.”
By now they’d reached the street in Amsterdam known as the Ruysdaelkade, which was a mini-Red Light District catering to the needs of locals, and tourists, looking for some loveless, transactional, jiggy-jiggy, with the native and imported bed-bound entrepreneurs that worked there.
“Well here you go Koen” said the expat lady, gesturing at some of the multi-colored M&M like women in the windows, on display like gadgets in a hi-fi shop window. “WHAT DO YOU MEAN, THERE YOU GO?” Shouted Koen, somewhat shocked, “do you want a threesome?”
No Koen, you said you’d pay if we can have sex tonight, well here’s fifty euros, you go and have sex with one of these women as transactional sex seems to be your thing, I’ll go home and try out some new sex toys that I finally received today, after PostNL were kind enough to leave the package with complete strangers several doors away. So we will be having sex, just not with each other. Have fun Koen, it’s been an experience, but somehow I don’t think we’ll be seeing each other again.” She left with his voice ringing out in the background “BUT I PAID FOR DINNER” to which she replied that she had no intention of being his dessert.
The Hottest Bars in Amsterdam for flirting (Pick up bars)
After this experience, she threw herself into her work, and figured that perhaps dating in Amsterdam wasn’t going to be her thing, single or not. She hadn’t made friends with any Dutch women yet, and had the feeling that they weren’t too keen on expats. That weekend she had a good friend visiting from Paris who was demanding to be taken out on the town to experience the Amsterdam nightlife. The Expat Lady didn’t have too much knowledge of this herself, so asked Froukje, a secretary at work for some recommendations. As well as giving her a list of places to visit she had the following advice:
- Wear less makeup, Dutch men prefer the natural look
- Leave the high heels at home, a lot of Dutch men think that women in heels are ‘sletjes’
- Just put on a nice pair of jeans, if you look too feminine Dutch men will be afraid to approach you
She ignored the sartorial advice provided. The Expat Lady, elegantly dressed as always in a figure hugging dress, Louboutin shoes with high heels, and hair freshly styled that day at the hairdressers, looked and smelled like a million Euros. Her Parisian friend, Simone, also looked equally stunning. They had a fabulous meal at MOMO after which they visited the first of the places on the list.
Where are the Players at?
The Urban Dictionary definition of a Player is as follows:
A “Player” is a Modern Name for a “Playboy.”
Conveniently located a few minutes walk away from MOMO, which was ideal for two ladies wearing high heels, was a place on the Expat Ladies secretaries list of recommendations, Players. “You’ll meet a lot of playboys there, and if you like Champagne and good music, it’s the place to go.” The expat lady could afford her own Champagne, but was intrigued none the less, perhaps she’d meet a suave sophisticated James Bond type.
Her days of standing in queues to get into clubs were over, so she’d reserved a table there, which came with a minimum cover price of 250 Euros.
There was already a large queue outside when they arrived, and they were ushered inside. Upon entering they were immediately hit by a wave of heat, and the noise! ‘My god!’ They were taken to their table, through a shouting, dancing, kissing crowd. They noticed the hateful glances of some of the women there, and the lustful stares of some of the men. One ‘playboy’ in particular looked at her as she passed by then shouted “damn, die heeft een lekkere kont.” Charming!
She knew now how plofkip (battery farmed chicken) must feel, when a buyer from Albert Heijn arrives to check out the merchandise. It was pretty cold outside, but the heat in Players was incredible. They sat at their table and ordered a bottle of Vodka. On a table nearby sat four scruffy looking gentlemen, with a Magnum of Champagne. They raised their glasses at the two ladies, “they’ll come over in a moment, ” said Simone confidently, however the men drank their Champagne, stared at the ladies, drank some more, and continued staring.
The ladies attempted to have a dance, but the ‘dance floor’ if you could describe it as such, was so busy that it was impossible to do more than shuffle from side to side. They were pushed and shoved by various men and women, and had plenty of drinks spilt on their outfits. “This is what it must have been like in caveman times” shouted Simone at the expat lady, as they watched a couple that appeared to have just met, doing a trick popular with lion-tamers, i.e. she appeared to be trying to get her head in his mouth. They decided to return to their seats, and were elbowed, had their feet trod on, and were given the kind of looks from some women that told them they were overdressed for the establishment. “KIJK UIT JE DOMME TRUT!” Shouted a lovely Dutch lady wearing an outfit that appeared to have been stolen from a corpse.
Last of the Great Players
As they were passing the table of the four ‘players’ with the magnum of Champagne, one of the men at the table said “ladies come and join us.” The ladies initially politely declined, but then figured it would be easier to join them for a single drink then leave. “I am Flavio, are you both single?” Asked one the ‘players.’ Neither lady was sure who he was addressing as he appeared to be staring past them. He stood up to shake their hands, and in their heels, both ladies towered over him. He slumped back into his seat, then rested his head on the shoulder of another of the players. Flavio’s friends, Mario, Mehmet and Roberto, all appeared to have had a little too much to drink. Roberto who was sat opposite Simone shouted “YOU ARE LOVELY LADY YOU KNOW? The other gentleman agreed, and one of them pointing at the expat lady, seemed to believe that he was whispering, when in fact he shouted “I LOVE MILFS.” He then let out a loud belch, which could be heard even above the blaring, diabolical ‘music’ being played. All four gentlemen roared with laughter at this. The ladies decided it was time to return to their own table.
The Great Escape
The ladies decided it was time to explore another place on the recommended bar list, the Cooldown Cafe, better known locally as de kleine Cooldown. The first warning that this might not have been the ideal bar for them came when a surprised looking bouncer asked them, “are you sure you’re at the right place?” They assured him that they were, and he let them into what was really nothing more than an oversized, overcrowded room with two bars. The first thing they noticed was that the average age of the patrons gathered there was at least ten to fifteen years younger than themselves. There was no room to move! Even though the place was tiny, it took them at least fifteen minutes just to get to the cloakroom which was total chaos! As they struggled through the throngs of sweaty, smelling, smoking, shouting, and dancing people, both ladies had their bottoms groped.
They made their way past the wandering hands, to the bar, and waited forever to be served. While there a tall and pretty looking young man, who couldn’t have been older than his mid-twenties, introduced himself as Cees, struck up a conversation with the expat lady.
Cees: “Hi there, I’m Cees, I’m from Amsterdam. You are beautifully dressed. I don’t normally go for women who are overdressed, and so old, but to me, you look lekkere than a full book of Albert Heijn spaarzegels. (saving stamps).”
What the expat lady actually heard was.
Blah, blah, blah, Cees, blah, blah, Amsterdam, blah, blah, blah blah, Albert Heijn seagulls.
She turned to face Simone, who to her surprise was kissing with what appeared to be a teenage boy. Simone suddenly pushed him away. “He’s been smoking, I may as well lick an ashtray.”
They were finally served their drinks, and having consumed a bottle of Vodka between them at Players, were both feeling more than a little merry. The rejected teenage boy, kept following them around the Cooldown, pestering them. The expat lady turned to him and said “look we’re really not interested, in fact, she’d rather kiss me than you”. Simone, laughing said “yes that’s true” and the ladies had a passionate kiss in front of the stunned teenager. A crowd of people nearby began cheering and clapping. The ladies kissed once more, after which the Expat Lady said, “why don’t we head back to my place? I think I’ve found a solution for dating in Amsterdam. I recently received a package that I think we both could enjoy……”
No heartbroken teenage boys were hurt during the writing of this post.