Anna Rova’s personal archive

My Polyamorous Relationship With The Six Languages I Speak

Portuguese is my Lover, Spanish is my Fiancee, English is my Godfather, Romanian is my Ex-boyfriend, Russian is my Grandfather and Bulgarian is my Brother From Another Mother. With each of them, I have a special, unique relationship.

My languages are like past lovers, current brothers and future husbands. Once you get to know them you can’t “un-know” them. They leave a trace in your memory and always hold that special place in your heart. You can hate them but you will never forget them. They connect you to past experiences and emotions. They are to be cherished and not taken for granted. No matter what, they are a part of me and I will always love them.

I’ve seen him around but I never paid much attention to him. I’ve heard people speak him but didn’t think I’ll ever fall for him. But now that I have landed in Rio de Janeiro and Brazilians speak him with such passion and sensuality, everything changed. It’s like one of those unexpected attractions you have for someone you didn’t think was worth it in the beginning. What a pleasant surprise!

We went on our first date yesterday that lasted for 4 hours. He made me feel excited and we had a great time discovering each other. Portuguese is very similar to my fiancee (Spanish) in how he is structured. But they are so different in personality and how they are pronounced. So similar and yet, so different. I am glad to be speaking both. It’s like an imaginary threesome.

We are currently dating. I feel excited and sexy when I see him, hear him or speak him… I’m still a bit shy to even pronounce the words aloud. I blush when I have to pronounce the nasal “au”s and the “shhh”s and “thchhh”s… Portuguese is flirting with me on all possible levels and is not even ashamed of it. In fact, he’s hitting on me with full force.

I feel him slowly brushing his hand over my hair, my legs, and my shoulders. He is teasing me even more now that he has a sexy Carioca (native of Rio de Janeiro) accent. it would be quite an insult to pronounce a hard “R” in the beginning of his words… I have to say it like I’m receiving some sort of magical pleasure: “Hhhhhhiiiiiiiiooooooo..” and not “Rrrrrioooooo…” and wink at him while I do it. The thought of me and Portuguese getting into a relationship and becoming exclusive gives me a tingling sensation down there… I don’t think he will ever ask, though. He’s quite a flirt and makes me jealous very often. I understand it’s ridiculous to be jealous because so many women speak him and he is the language of Bossa Nova so I am trying to let it go. Everyone wants a piece of him and I will need to deal with it. I would just like to speak him fluently and that would be enough for me. “Just the tip” of him would be enough for me.

Oh, Español! He is comfortable, reliable and trustworthy. He is sweet and pronounceable. We met in Colombia last year and our relationship developed slowly but steadily. He was not pushing it and took it really slow. Spanish really knows how to sweep a woman off her feet with calculated and strategic action. But he is making you feel like it was your choice, not his. What a player!

Sex with him is amazing and I feel myself with him. I feel like a woman when I’m around him. He loves to give me gifts. Expensive gifts like jewelry, perfumes, and exotic vacations. When I’m around Spanish I don’t have to think of anything. I put on my dress, clasp his hand and let him take me wherever he feels necessary.

Spanish brings my feminine powers to its full effect. Spanish turns me on. I don’t understand it fully and there is still so much to learn… but that’s why I love him. Spanish has a strange combination of making me happy and scared at the same time. I feel his masculine force and I know it is stable and firm.

He awaits me in Spain, Mexico and Colombia. He also awaits me in countries I’ve never been to yet. I know that he will show me a new shade of himself anywhere I go next: Argentina or Chile. Spanish will always be there. Fire and fun, red and purple, love and trust. ❤

We’ve been together for a long time. But something happened and I needed to move on. I know he understands and has forgiven me.

Romanian is the language of my mother and my sister. Romanian is the language of my country. He is never forgotten but he is rarely spoken in. And when we meet, our meetings are always so sweet and short, but oh, so meaningful. In those rare times we meet again I still feel some sort of love but I am not sure what kind of love it is… It is not a friendship because it can’t be. It is not a romance because that’s long time over. It is not an attraction but something similar. I don’t have a word for it…

Romanian feels so close but very distant at the same time. He is who I grew up with but we lost touch over the years. But I know he will always be there. We have this mutual respect and trust that no one can take away from me. No matter what, he still is in my heart. I speak him fluently, I read him well and I feel for him. His words and sounds are so familiar but feel so far away most of the time. He lives in his own world and his thoughts most of the time. He is an artist. He wants to change the world. He sounds a little bit like my lover, Portuguese, and is definitely very close to my fiancee, Spanish. I guess I’m really into Latin languages. We really understand each other and our relationships are so easy and free.

No wander Romanian was my first one. I learned to read him quickly without thinking about it. I speak it with a Moldovan accent but that adds a little charm into our long-distance relationship. I wish I could spend more time with him but I believe my fiancee would not like that very much. As to my lover? He doesn’t need to know.

We got to know each other when I was seven. He was much older, seemed very wise and was the most international language at the time. My parents asked him to be my Godfather because he would open so many doors for me, they said. Now I understand what they meant. Everyone wanted him as their Godfather but he chose me.

By the age of 11, I was speaking him fluently. His grammar seemed easy to me (pretty much like everything else at school, besides physics.) At 17 it helped me win a competition and travel to Virginia, USA as a high school exchange student and live there for one whole year. It was his plan all along: to bring me to America, he later told me. Of course, he knew that this experience would truly change my life, shift my paradigms, expose me to a different world view and set me up for success. He takes his God-fatherly duties seriously.

English always made me stand out from the rest. He gave me the advantage of being a true citizen of the world and opened so many doors for me. He has exempt me from various state exams, introduced me to various books and movies and even helped me earn some money when I was in high-school. He opened international borders for me. He opened bridges and dams. He connected me to so many people, concepts and world views.

English was there when I wanted to jump, fall and never come back. He never gave up and always pushed me forward. He gave me strength, he gave me knowledge. He gave me possibility and opportunity.

English gave me the ability to hear and understand the actors speak on big screens in Hollywood movies without any dubbing or translations. I speak the language of Elvis Presley, Abraham Lincoln, Madonna and Martin Luther King. He brought me closer to Facebook, Google, New York Times & New York City itself!

I share this language with my beloved Estring. My children will probably speak English before they speak any other language. English is my hero, the language I think in and I dream in. He is my trusted advisor and my Godfather.

He is the language of my father and the language of Pushkin, Tolstoy, Dostoyevski, Stalin, and Gagarin.

He is my native language and I studied him relentlessly in school. The special relationship with Russian is so ingrained in my soul that no matter which language I speak, I will always primarily identify with him. I am not sure who was my first one: Russian or Romanian, because I have spoken both at the same time. And because of this duality in my life, I always got along with everyone. There was no division for me between the Russians or the Romanians who lived in Moldova. My friendships did not need to depend on language spoken between us but on the quality of these relationships.

I am not Russian but I was brought up Russian. This language is wise and he has seen it all. Like a true Russian grandfather he loved me to pieces but always knew when to put me into my place. He taught me harsh lessons about life and showed me love and generosity. He had spent countless hours helping me with my homework, taking me skiing and to the beach. He has a way with me that no one else has. He has found the true path to my heart and my mind.

His songs contain so much pain and so much pleasure at the same time. His literature encompasses so much suffering and happiness. You can sing him all day and night and never get tired.

He comes from one of the greatest countries in the world and has helped me connect and speak to many people from so many different nations. I am proud to speak Russian and of him being my grandfather.

At times he can be brutal and arrogant and almost heartless. But he can also be incredibly compassionate and understanding. He can kill you with a word and awaken you with a soft touch. He can strike you with intonation and confuse you with constant rules and reforms. He is a conservative creature but also open-minded about possibilities. He is difficult and easy, dark and light, exquisite and peasant, fearless and weak. He is everything at once.

My Bulgarian brother, the language of my grandparents and my college years. We actually met in college just like best friends do. We worked hard and played hard, and spent countless nights drinking rakia and dancing our asses off in Bulgarian chalga clubs.

He is easy to get along with and always ready to get into trouble. He shares the same Cyrillic roots with my grandfather, Russian, so becoming best friends was quick.

He loves to drink rakia, eat banichka and dance horo. He is abrupt, fun and easy-going. Sometimes he doesn’t think much before saying something so he often gets into trouble. He makes people do silly things like shaking their head “yes” when they mean “no” and vice versa. He’s such a comedian!

I would always go back to him when given a chance. He will listen while I cry and support me with his never-ending positive attitude. He is kind at heart and will greet you with open arms. He will sell his last piece of furniture to support you in your kick-starter campaign. He is my brother from another mother and I love him too.

Disclosure: The characters depicted in this piece are fictitious. Any similarity to any person living or dead is merely coincidental (or served as inspiration.)

xoxo,

The “Cheeky” Wanderova

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