I'm a Single Black American Woman Dating in Europe

Imports taste better

American Twanna A. Hines, a Portugal expat, on why she prefers dating men from other countries

When I moved to Portugal on my own, it wasn’t because it was trendy. In fact, at the time, I didn’t know anyone who had ever moved here. The year was 2021. That was just after the height of the COVID-19 pandemic and the resulting quarantines. In retrospect, I think slowing down gave me a lot of time to reflect on what’s important to me. While finding love wasn’t at the top of my list of priorities, other things were—and that ultimately led me to Iberia. At present, I’m dually based between the Lisbon and Washington, D.C. metro regions.

I should mention that I’m no stranger to moving. Growing up, my single mother was hospitalized for months due to illnesses. Born in Chicago, I’ve lived with different relatives and on my own in cities sprinkled across Illinois, Florida, Maryland, New Jersey, New York, California, Mississippi, and in Washington, D.C. Abroad, I’ve also lived and worked in the U.K. and the Netherlands, and I’ve traveled extensively across Western Europe. A native English speaker, I speak Dutch fluently, am learning advanced Portuguese, and I also studied French, Italian, and American Sign Language.

Why? Honestly, I don’t know. It could be healthy adaptation skills or, also, a trauma response. Things like traveling solo, going to college out of state, or starting a business in a new city might come easier for those of us who grew up raising ourselves. Many parents, like mine, have battled mental illness, substance abuse, violence, or combinations thereof. For better or worse, we—their children—are often used to providing and fending for ourselves, especially if we’re single. Whatever the reason, I’ve moved a lot and I moved to Lisbon solo.

Bumble, Tinder, Grindr, and Feeld are all active abroad like they are in the U.S. In fact, that’s how I found my first situationship. Six days after I initially landed in Lisbon, I noticed my Tinder started popping off with new matches. That was really odd.

I hadn’t logged on in so long that I had actually contemplated deleting all dating apps (again). In the last few years, I’d met most of the people I’d dated casually—and my most recent boyfriend—organically, through friends of friends. I was inactive on the app. So I wasn’t sure why my profile was attracting new attention. Maybe you know this, but I didn't back then: When you go to a new country, Tinder places you as a new profile in that region.

I had hundreds of new matches. Let’s call the first guy I met The German, because that’s what I called him to my friends. More importantly, he deserves the privacy of me writing about him without using his real name.

Before him, not only had I already dated interracially and internationally, but The German wasn’t even my first German boyfriend or situationship. Back in the U.S., I’d been accustomed to dating people who didn’t share my nationality or ethnicity. I’m naturally curious about other cultures, in life and love, so it never made sense to limit myself in that way.

Besides, I've always believed that anyone can date anyone, as long as they share the same worldview. When I write about dating, sex, and relationships, (something I’ve done for over twenty years), I talk about how important this is. You don’t need to agree on everything. One person can be Type A while the other is laid back; one can always show up early while the other is always late. But getting through a shared life together becomes much easier when you also share core beliefs.

My values are about things like fairness, equity, and the kind of world I want to live in with others. They include beliefs in universal basic income, free education, peacebuilding, liberation for Black people and women, the inherent dignity of all persons, and ensuring no one faces food or housing insecurity. With international men, I’ve often found these conversations flow differently. There’s this baseline understanding that bridges cultural differences. Americans consider me super open, and I’m fine with that. However, in most Western European countries, I’m just considered “normal”—even basic. In many European countries, very few things about my beliefs are extremely political. They’re just considered common sense.

At fifty years old, I can confidently say that most of the men I’ve dated have not been American. In mate selection, my guiding questions were more like: Is he nice to me? Does he treat me well? Am I attracted to him? If the answers were yes to all of those, I didn’t care where he was from.

This brings me back to The German.

We shared a worldview and could talk for hours. A local, he grew up in a small German town, arrived in Lisbon as a student in the 90s, and stayed.

Someone once told me, “Tell me your love language, and I’ll tell you what you didn’t get as a child.” My love language is acts of service—which means show up, do what you say you’ll do, make life easier for me, be reliable, and have my best interests at heart. Alone in this new country, where I didn’t initially know anyone nor speak the language, it was refreshing to meet someone like The German.

He viscerally knew what it felt like to be an outsider in a new land. Yet he already spoke the language fluently. He also knew Lisbon well, from the nuances between neighborhoods like Pena de França, Beato, and Marvila, to the deliciousness of aguardente and ginjinha. By dating him, it felt like I was getting closer to that feeling of being fully established in Lisbon by proxy. Plus, when we were together, he translated menus, showed me the lesser-known parts of the city, and explained local customs. I felt looked after, cared for, and supported. That can feel a lot like love—and sometimes it is.

It didn’t hurt that he was very attractive. I felt proud when I’d send his photo to friends, and they’d respond, “Wow, he’s really hot!” I chased him when I shouldn’t have, and I was probably clingier than I should’ve been. I need to have more grace for myself, especially for mistakes I make in love.

Of course, being a Black woman dating men from different cultures or ethnic groups isn’t without its challenges. Racism and antiblackness are real, so I find I add extra levels of screening if the potential partner isn’t Black. They need to have done the work to not only understand white privilege, but they also have to be actively interested in, and about the business of, dismantling it.

Of course, dating someone from a different nationality encompasses more than ethnicity. Take salary, for example. Portuguese salaries should be higher and are among the lowest within the E.U. Average take-home income can hover just south of about €1,500 per month.

If we understand that racism is real, we have to understand that sexism is, too. Often, men punish women for earning more money than they do. This can look like sabotaging our success, undermining us, projecting insecurity, and criticizing. For straight folks, studies consistently show, that when women outearn men, they often report greater relationship dissatisfaction. I’m not trying to be like LisaRaye, but I am trying to remain happy. The German owned two apartments in Lisbon, a house on the coast, and was buying two separate properties on an island. Life can be hard; love should make it easier.

Ethnicity and finances aside, for those of us dating internationally, language barriers can also be an issue. Even if you speak the same language that your partner does (The German sprach Englisch), emotional nuances can be hard to describe fully in a language that’s not your own.

I don’t speak German, but from my previous years living and dating in The Netherlands, I know hearing someone else say, “Ik hou van jou” in Dutch just doesn’t hit the same as hearing or saying, “I love you.” On top of that, I can play with words, joke, and use turns of phrase in English in ways that I can’t in other languages.

Add to that the emotional intensity that comes with stuff like arguing. There’s literally a scene from Emily in Paris when the French boyfriend character says as much. When two people argue in a language in which only one is a native speaker, that person is at an unfair advantage. Not to mention, communication is more than words; it’s also about how you say something. Americans, for example, are generally known for speaking much louder than people from other countries. So now imagine being an American in a heated conversation with a partner from a different, quieter culture—you might come across as yelling.

You might say: Well, Twanna, doesn’t this make this case for dating someone whose primary language is the same as your own? Not necessarily. I actually don’t mind learning how to navigate cultural differences, picking up nuances in new languages, or deepening my understanding of myself and others in unfamiliar contexts. There’s a lot of value in that. For all of their complexities, international partners offer plenty of opportunities for self-growth.

In the end, The German and I weren’t the best match for each other. He ghosted me about a week before my birthday, and we haven’t spoken or seen each other since. Everyone is on their own emotional healing journey, myself included. A serial monogamist, I know that I will continue to do well in love, including learning through bumps along the way. I’m grateful that I have a track record of wonderful experiences with Swedish, French, Dutch, French Canadian, Spanish, Mexican, and, yes, even American men.

If only it was possible to learn even more languages through osmosis, my vagina would’ve made me a very successful polyglot. Much like one can enjoy a fine international wine, beer, or cheese, it all comes down to personal tastes. Figuring out which tastes you like best is easier to do when you’re already well fed—and that’s about self-love.

After half a century on this beautiful planet, I don’t have everything figured out. The older I get, I realize there’s so much more to learn. For me, here’s what matters most: I simply want to soak up as many positive experiences as possible, continue to love hard and be loved in return, and spend my limited time with people who deserve it. For now, I’ll continue dating—and growing—internationally. If you know lovely, kind, generous, hot, single men living in the Lisbon metro region, feel free to hook me up. Or don’t. Either way, I’ll be okay, and that’s been one of the most important lessons for me to learn no matter where I live.

Twanna A. Hines, M.S. (she/her) is an award-winning sexual health educator, healthy relationships advocate, and entrepreneur. A Sundance Creative Change alum, she has written for many magazines and news outlets, including NBC News, The Guardian, Al Jazeera, Time Out, Mashable, Fast Company, The Huffington Post, and HEALTH magazine. She has been interviewed by outlets from coast to coast, from the San Francisco Chronicle to The New York Times. Founder and CEO of the social impact firm FUNKY BROWN CHICK, she has appeared on CNN, NPR, Sirius, CBC, Paris Première, and in documentary films. Committed to reducing violence and increasing security, she is a member of the Truman National Security Project.