Dating the Danes: The moment every girl knows she has to date a Dane

It was summer 2016 when I moved to Copenhagen. And as soon as the plane landed at the airport, I rushed my way through to join my beloved non-Danish boyfriend. 

But in the few moments I stood waiting for my luggage, my vision got utterly compromised. It was as if I’d been struck by the lightning of some beautiful creatures. Not really, it was just the Danes. I was enchanted, but not prepared for what was coming.

Dreamboat on the Metro
We made it to the Metro, holding hands, all lovey-dovey and excited about our new chapter. However, the universe had other plans. 

All the stars aligned for me that day, and within two stops in our journey, the seat in front of us was taken by who else but my biggest male fantasy of all time.

A blond version of the iconic model from D&G light blue ad, David Gandy. I know, I know, I am not supposed to stare at people – my mother taught me some manners – but my God, I had no say over my blushing face. Sorry Mom, and sorry Boyfriend – we have our moments.

The rest of the journey was me trying to mediate between my faithful heart (“Girl, breathe, you came here for your lover and friend …”), my commanding heart (“Don’t look, don’t look … stop looking”), and my hormones, which were having a party on their own, dancing to the beats of Dora the explorer (“WE DID IT, WE DID IT, YEAH, WE DID IT”). 

Stripped, smiling, sozzled
I mean, it would have been really nice to get a little warning sign before leaving the airport, like “Attention, hormonal reaction ahead”, “Coming up: brutal relationship check-up” or “No biking for sensitive souls”. And yes, things did not get easier once on a bike. It was hard enough to learn how to cycle again, let alone to be expected not to look around at the attractive crowds.

Mind you, I arrived on one of the hottest days of summer and, as you might have noticed already, Danish people have very little tolerance for heat. Result, too much skin, a great deal of booze and loads of free ‘summer’ smiles for all. 

At that point, it just got confusing for me and I even had to put a pin on my sexual orientation and fight the forces within to not end up in a bike crash. 

Nirvana … sorry Nyhavn
As a fellow expat I must warn you though from the most dangerous zone. It’s by the inner harbour bridge in Nyhavn. Things are taken up a notch at that level: sexy mature men on boats, sunbathing all around the harbour and booming happiness. Yes, it’s a high hormone radiation zone. I usually joke to my girlfriends on our way to Reffen: “Girls, we need to make it there in one piece.”

Oh yeah, my boyfriend. I guess there’s no need to say, given this introduction, that we gave our relationship a fair try for two additional years, but it didn’t work. Coming out of that, I was clueless about dating, but very curious about being single in this land of attractive people. I have heard some good stories, with a happy ever after, but mostly real horror. 

But the naive me at that time was still thinking: how bad can it be; these Danish men are so beautiful. So I jumped straight into the Danish dating pond and joined Tinder.