Marrying the Danes

Life rarely ever works out like we plan, and my life in Denmark has been no different. I came here, rather naively I must admit, with a man I thought I was madly in love with. However, soon after arriving, I was forced back to reality when he declared his undying love for me had in fact died.

Whilst I won’t bore you with the ups and downs that followed, I will say that alone and new to this country, I set out to do the only thing I could: move on. In the process, I started this column, and seeing as this is my last one, I think it only fair to finish the story. 

As many of you may know, in the process of moving on, I began dating Danish men, and throughout my time here, I’ve really had some shockers of a date. From wannabe bicycle-oiling Romeos, to line-crossing smooth talkers and straight-laced bores, I travelled the country, well at least Copenhagen, in pursuit of my own Danish prince. 

Overall, I’ve had some great experiences, as well as some lousy moments. I bought bikes, only to have them stolen, met men I thought were nice but weren’t, and I even had a visit from he-who-should-not-be-named: The Ex. Having drifted through Europe, including a visit to his ex-girlfriend’s pants, he returned to Copenhagen, supposedly a changed man, and even asked for my hand in marriage.

Here comes the bride ... and there goes our columnist!

I’ve also had my hopes set high, only to have them dashed again, but in spite of all of this, I have learnt that many things, including people, are not always as they first appear.

And with that I have a confession to make: I am in love with a Dane. Despite having written extensively about their failings, unbelievably feminine dress sense, Q & A style of dating and general cold demeanour, I must admit that they aren’t as bad as they first seemed.

You see, most of these columns have actually been backdated, so over my time here, I have learnt to actually appreciate Danish men. Now don’t get me wrong. I’m not saying they aren’t without their faults. But I guess, regardless of origin, no men are.     

What I do know now, after writing them off months ago, is that I’ve had to eat my words. The more men I’ve got to know here, including my own Mr Normal (yes, he’s the one), the more I’ve realised they are kind, sensitive, sexy and actually a lot of fun.

Now whilst I never would have thought that ‘fun’ and ‘Danish’ are two words I’d put together. I think I now know the secret to Danish men, and that is that you’ve got to approach them like a really good candy bar. Good as it may look, eat it all quickly and you’ll never be satisfied, but consume it bit by bit and you’ll learn to truly savour it.   

With that, I leave you to continue exploring this country, with my new Danish husband by my side …