He Spoke Four Languages — I Only Spoke Sarcasm

He Spoke Four Languages — I Only Spoke Sarcasm

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His profile was intimidating. He listed his languages as Russian, German, English, and French. He had photos from his travels across the globe and a bio that mentioned his passion for world literature. I, on the other hand, was fluent in exactly one language: English. And my second, unofficial language was sarcasm, a dialect that often gets lost in translation.

I almost didn't message him. What would a sophisticated polyglot like him see in me? But he messaged me first on https://www.sofiadate.com/. He said he found my profile "amusingly direct." I decided to just be myself. Early in our conversation, he wrote something incredibly poetic about the beauty of the changing seasons. I replied, "Wow. And here I was just thinking it's getting too cold to find my car in the morning." I held my breath, sure I had just ruined it by being a cynical American. He replied with a series of laughing emojis. "The directness is refreshing," he wrote. "It is a good balance to my tendency to be overly romantic."

Our dynamic was set. He was the poet; I was the pragmatist. He would quote Goethe; I would quote a line from a sitcom. But instead of clashing, our styles complemented each other. My sarcasm made him laugh and kept him grounded. His romanticism softened my cynical edges and made me see the world in a more beautiful way. He taught me that you don't need to speak the same number of languages to communicate perfectly. He could understand the affection behind my sarcastic teasing, and I could understand the genuine heart behind his poetic declarations. Our conversations became a delightful mix of high-brow and low-brow, of European romanticism and American wit. He may have spoken four languages, but it was in my native tongue of sarcasm that he learned to understand my heart.