December 2022 – Istanbul, Türkiye

I matched with the Quick Kurd on Bumble towards the middle of my month in Istanbul. He was very tall, very built, and very handsome. I soon learned that he was a trainer, spoke Turkish and had lived in Istanbul most of his life, but was Kurdish. He was very kind, sweet, and funny from the beginning, but what really stood was that he did not ask for more pictures or immediately jump in to sexy-talk, which was very common amongst my matches in Istanbul.

We decided to meet up after my friend (Bachelor #5) who was visiting left and chatted quite a bit in the meantime.

I was very much looking forward to meeting him and was especially excited that he made all of the plans and just told me where to meet him.

My excitement waned a bit when I got a text from him right before we were supposed to meet saying he had to tell me something. I immediately assumed he was not coming, married, or… worst case scenario: short.

But, the big secret was that he didn’t speak English and had been using a translator for all of our conversations.

But, are you still tall?

Yes.

K, see you soon!

I did not need a translator to establish this tall, thick, drink of water was fiiiiiine when he arrived. This 6’6, burly man flashed me the sweetest shy smile as he approached where I was seated waiting for him and I knew we’d be just fine.

Immediately noticing he was in athletic wear, I assumed he had just come from work and felt a bit overdressed, but was open to whatever this beautiful man had planned. It became quickly clear we had a significant language barrier but, as a well versed International Tinerella, I was prepared with multiple translator apps and five Turkish words in my vocabulary, so we were making do just fine.

I finished my drink, he finished his water and he said “let’s go!”.

Okay!

I spent the next several hours CHASING this man through Istanbul. Up and down the hills of Besiktas, through metro stations, on to ferry boats, through neighborhoods, into tea shops, through the crowded streets of Kudakoy, up escalators trying to catch trains… all while he repeatedly turned back, smiled and said “let’s go!”.

I am a 6’1” New Yorker who walks 10k+ steps a day and was running to keep up with this man, at some points I questioned if this was a date or a training session (was he seeking fatties online to try to build his clientele?? was an actual fleeting thought I had).

We would catch up and “chat” via translate when I was able to catch up with him and slow him down, or on the metro and ferries (thankfully there was service).

We still managed to have great conversation and a lot of laughs. He told me a lot about the city and I got a crash course in the transit system. I saw more of Istanbul in the course of our 4 hour date than I had in the 2 weeks I had been there prior… though it was all blurry because we were moving at lightning speed and I was trying to control my breathing the entire time.

We eventually walked along Istiklal Caddesi at an almost leisurely pace so we could read each other’s screens as we “talked” and I said I was hungry. We found a cute spot to stop and grab a quick bite. I told him what I wanted (via pointing) and he ordered for me. When my food came I sat and waited for his to come, but after a few minutes he asked why I wasn’t eating and I told him I was waiting for his food.

He told me he did not eat after 7pm.

Not one to feel ANY kind of way about eating in front of a man, I dug in to my late night (9pm) veggie burger and poked fun at him for only eating boiled chicken and eggs before sundown.

After my veggie burger, we took off running (again) to catch the ferry back to Besiktas where my Airbnb was.

He kindly offered to walk me home and I warned him it was a lot of steep hills. He reminded me of his peak physical fitness via laughing and pointing at his massive, flexed arm, and I took my turn to say “Lets go!” and headed for the hills.

It was then his turned to chase me as I went in to beast mode up those 90 degrees angles at full tilt and he huffed and puffed behind me.

We made it to my Airbnb and I invited him in for a drink (juice for him, whiskey for me).

After a few sips and a little more translated banter, we quickly aligned on the next “let’s go” and were making out like teenagers on the couch.

Literally, like teenagers… awkward, and rushed, and clumsy, and a bit overexcited.

Part of me was into it and part of me was a little turned off.

But then he took his shirt off.

Dear Lawd above thank you for boiled chicken and eggs.

I very quickly learned that calories and alcohol were not the only thing the Quick Kurd was deprived of and walking was not the only thing we’d be doing quickly that night.. very quickly.

After maybe the most awkward few moments in the history of awkward few moments, he found his phone and typed something in to translate then turned to toward me:

I am sorry, it has been a long time for me.

To this day, that remains that best thing I have ever had translated to me. I assured him it was fine and that it happens.

We talked about getting together again and maybe giving it another go (I mean, the man was gorgeous and we had had a great time). I told him to let me know when he made it home as he rushed out the door.

He did text me when he got home, to confirm he made it and offer further apology.

I told him I had had a great time and would happily see him again, but our schedules never seemed to align before I left.