Love Me In Your Language

This happens to me often, I will wake up with a song and it becomes the theme of the day.

Kudu “Love Me In Your Language”

“Oh talk to me.
Love me in your language baby
I don’t have to understand
If you say it like a man”

Even though the weather has been completely uncooperative with rain and colder than usual summer temperatures, I am trying to make the most of this summer.

Like every year, the city has events that occur every year rain or shine. So I had the opportunity to grace Danforth Ave., for the “Taste Of Danforth”

I went with Miguel, my brooding companion, to enjoy some food and barely there music. We did our usual, talk, laugh, eat, talk, eat some more, laugh. During one of our laughing fits I caught a glance of this “chocolate delight”. Build like a quarterback, skin smooth as butter and teeth gleaming white. Reminded me of what a girlfriend of mine said “I like them so black that at night all I can see are teeth”. I was like WTHeck the first time she said it, but after seeing this specimen I understood.

He was smiling and boldly staring at me, but I looked away. I was not trying to start anything. Tried calling me over in which I completely ignored him and continued on with my conversation. Moments later, he approached. At least I wasn’t wrong with my assessment from a distance, he was handsome. He smiled nervously and nodded at Miguel.

Me: “Hi”
Him: “Allo”
Me: “Huh? Are you Haitian?”
( Even though it a broad generalization, me and Haitian dudes, a no-go, too many bad experiences.)

He smiles.

After further probing, found out he was from Senegal. I say probing because his English was a broken as broken can be. With each word he struggled with he would smile. He was real adorable. His friend approached us and was a bit more vocal and helped him along the way. He mumbled some things in French, and the next thing I knew we were exchanging numbers. We ended the conversation with a kiss on the cheek and a warm hug.

The next day I met up with him for lunch. Nothing like, having a conversation with someone and not understanding what they say, but knowing what they mean. He would start his sentences in English, then throw in a couple of French words, and then finish in complete French.

Nothing like being spoken to in a different tongue. I have always been a sucker for accents, especially if my name is said sweetly. I love my name said in Spanish and in French; makes me feel exquisite. At work we had a conversation about how anything said in Spanish sounds good. I can attest to that, especially when Chilenita is cussing.

By the end of day I was engulfed with “l'amour de votre compagnie” “vous ete magnifique” “quand pouvoir je vous vois encore” “ange” and fits of “your beautiful”.

Mind you I know if another brotha was to spit those phrases at me, I would have thought he was silly. But something about hearing things in another language just does it for me.

Enjoy the bootleg-ness.