Language barrier wasn’t an issue, we both stumbled through each other’s native tongues, you obviously more fluent than I. My incessant stream of questions didn’t seem to bother you, or if it did you were too polite to show it. In those few days, I learned so much about you, I was fascinated by your point of view, so different from mine. After the train had whisked you away, we kept talking online, I wanted to know about you and your thoughts.
Across thousands of miles of ocean, helped by the magic of the internet, I asked you if you wanted to date. You did. Then it happened. One week in, you told me you loved me. I knew you didn’t mean it like that. But those three words, they were so much more significant in my culture, especially if they come from the person you’re dating. Everything felt so serious.
I realized that even though we could communicate on the surface, there were cultural nuances which were too different for me to wade through. I told you I needed space, you told me you understood. We drifted apart.
Now, I still ask you a question every once in a while, am still curious as to your view of the world, but the line is clear. I couldn’t cross the barrier of subconscious influence of my culture and society.