Dating a turkish man from istanbul

When the food arrived, we stopped talking for a while, especially since he talked to some customers between bites of his large, juicy fish. I was turned off by how noisily he ate, and the grease around his mouth.

I looked away and out the glass door at the sights of the street.

The man who took my order had a worried look on his face, when he carried my food over to me. Later the waiter who tried to get me to go on the roof with him, gave me a cup of chy turkce (Turkish tea; it’s served all the time in Turkey) and he put his hands together with a smile on his face and put one hand over his heart.

I was glad when the manti came; I concentrated on it very hard, entertaining myself with my thoughts. I sighed but drank the tea because I loved chai turkce; I had several cups of it every day because random people kept serving it to me everywhere I went. At first, I stayed with a Turkish friend of mine, but, after one week of staying with her, we had a silent falling out (I will explain in another Istanbul Memories confession later) and I was out one night looking for a hostel to stay at for the rest of the duration of my stay in Istanbul.

I asked if I could use the restroom and a hotel employee told me that it was fine, and he asked a young man to escort me to the restroom.

I pushed him away, surprised that he had the nerve to do that, but, at that point, I knew Turkish men were very capable of doing something like that.

The young man didn’t know English very well, but he managed to say, ‘sorry’ over and over, looking at me with lust.

He made kissing gestures, putting his hand over his heart. I was hungry and my intention was to enjoy a delicious Turkish meal.

It was already late and I was quite away from the hostel where I stayed at, so I remained in my seat.

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