Hello everyone! Or as the say in Sweden "Hej!" Boy, is it good to be filling out this little WordPress window. In the last three weeks, I've traveled to the US and back, then set off for yet another long weekend in Dresden. A lot, I mean A LOT is going on in my wee Denglish life and I am eager to share the big news soon. For now though, I am getting my sh!t back together now that I'm finally able to snuggle up in my own biscuit again.

So today, I am just popping in to introduce a fellow, expat blogger and exceptional story-teller Claire from The Grass is Dancing. As you might have read from my little Hej! earlier, Claire lives in Sweden and is here today to tell the tales of life as an expat dating in Sweden. I've always been fascinated by Scandinavia and their many progressive ways of life, but did you know this translates into dating life, too? Claire selflessly shares a blush-worthy moment in order to open our eyes the ways of the Swedish dating world.

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Ahh Swedish men. From Vikings to  Vampires, it’s fair to say that they’ve kept us all enthralled for several centuries now. So when I moved to Stockholm a couple of years ago, the thought of a whole new dating pool full of statuesque Nordic Gods was… we’ll let’s just say it wasn’t a downside.

Until, that is, I discovered that dating the Swedish man is a little more complicated than you might expect. For a start, here in Sweden women make the moves.

Editor's Note: I wonder if Princess Madeleine of Sweden made the first move on hubby Christopher O'Neill.     source

Which is, in fact, fantastic with me: you know that bit in Grease, during the high school dance, when those dorky girls sit on the bleachers mournfully tapping their feet to the music until one of them is picked by a random dude? I hate that bit. In some ways, it feels like the last bastion of feminism: women have made so many amazing strides over the past few decades, yet we still wait for him to make the move, him to call, him to propose. So, I am well up for taking the lead in romantic matters. There's just one small problem.

I'm rubbish at it.

The first time I tried, it, I was at a bar with some friends about a year ago. I spotted the guy as soon as we arrived: tall, blond (I suppose you could have guessed that); definitely cute. I glanced over at him. He glanced at me. I smiled. He smiled back. I waited for him to make his move. He... didn't.

Ahh yes, I thought to myself, this will be that whole 'women make the move thing.' Here I go then...

Trouble was, my feet appeared to be glued to the floor. Twenty minutes later, I was still being a wuss of enormous proportions when my friends started making noises about moving on to another bar. That's when I had my blinding flash of inspiration: I would give him a note. On my way out of the bar, I would make a little detour past his table, slip him a note with my name and phone number on it with an alluring smile, then disappear into the night, leaving behind a sense of mystery and intrigue.

Things started to go wrong when I handed him the note and he... hugged me. No, I don't know why either. I left behind less a sense of mystery and more a dent in his sweater from where my nose awkwardly smooshed into it.

Somehow, having shared a hug, it felt wrong to simply disappear into the night, so I...

I nodded at him. I don't know why either. At that point I was just relieved not to give him a thumbs up or tap the side of my nose or mime being stuck in a box. Before things could get any worse, I turned tail and scuttled back to my friends, whereupon I discovered that... they had ordered another round of drinks.

I had to sit there for another half an hour, studiously avoiding acknowledging his existence, as he looked at the note, frowned at it in complete confusion and put it back in his jeans pocket.

Ahh well, practice makes perfect ;-) Because as terrifying as it is, I like feeling free to start a conversation with someone who has caught my eye rather than feeling trapped by ridiculous and archaic notions of men liking to make the moves. It's terrifying and horrible and you might accidentally make a dent in someone's sweater with your nose, but there's nothing like exhilaration when you get that phone number! I *might* have once been caught by the guy in question doing a dance of triumph (which consisted mostly of the running man) for my friends.. but that's another story.

And 'make the moves' doesn't stop with the first move, either: it's fun in general to sit the driver’s seat, deciding whether or not to call after a date rather than sitting by the phone wishing and hoping. Not least because, when your only option is to wait for the guy to call, if he doesn’t it’s difficult not to feel rejected even if you were hoping he wouldn’t. In Sweden, the ball is in both of our courts: if there is no second date, it is equally because he didn’t call and I didn’t either. Mutual rejection - the real gender equality!

Have you found the dating scene in your new country different to what you're used to? How have you dealt with the new challenges?!