Dating in Tunisia as a woman – The lamppost and my 24-hour head affair
In this personal account, I recount an encounter in Chatt Meriem that unexpectedly confronted me with issues such as dating in Tunisia, cultural differences, intimacy, reserve and my own projections. This article is aimed at women who are interested in honest experiences of meeting men in Tunisia – beyond clichés and dating advice guides.
When you put up small flyers in Chatt Meriem asking for help learning Tunisian Arabic, you don’t expect it to turn into a social experiment about attraction, culture and restraint.
But that’s exactly what happened.
Dating in Tunisia – Day One: Café La Costa & the unexpected twist
It all started with my innocent little flyer:
„Je cherche quelqu’un pour m’aider à apprendre à parler le tunisien du quotidien.“
No hidden meaning, no secret intentions – just a Swiss woman in a beach town trying to learn how to order coffee without accidentally proposing marriage.
Then Amine came along.
We met at Café La Costa, and the plan was: a polite meeting, maybe a bit of small talk, then ‘goodbye’.
Except that’s not how it turned out.
He was wow.
Warm eyes, sharp humour, the relaxed self-confidence of someone who has lived abroad long enough to understand irony.
He told me about his time in Ireland, his past, his therapy, his period of sobriety – and instead of memorising verbs, I memorised the echo of his laughter.
Afterwards, he invited me to take a quick look at his ‘classroom’. I said yes, knowing full well that this is how every cliché begins.
We didn’t do anything – we just talked. But when I left, my head just wouldn’t stop working. I couldn’t sleep that night.
I didn’t think about him – I experienced him, over and over again, in full colour, with surround sound, in imaginary 4D. Let’s just call it what it was: 24 hours of inner porn cinema.
And I loved every minute of it.
Dating in Tunisia – Day Two: Coffee, Confusion and Cultural Discoveries
Today was the actual learning session.
He greeted me again with that relaxed smile that makes you forget whether you are a student or a character in his story. On the table lay a notebook, a pen and his handwriting – messy, fast, slightly artistic.
He began to write down words for me: flous (money), taula (table), mouch mouchkla (no problem). Each new word was accompanied by a smile and a gesture – and soon I was watching him more than the paper.
He cooked eggs. Scrambled eggs. Simple, modest and unexpectedly sweet.
We talked, laughed, and at some point the conversation drifted – as it so often does – from grammar to relationships. I asked him about his ‘no-gos’.
He said:
‘Hair. And dishonesty.’
That’s all.
Hair.
For a moment, I thought I had misheard him.
But no – he meant hair. Pubic hair, to be precise. And the important thing in his world is apparently its absence.
He added, somewhat sheepishly, that it was ‘only in his head’.
Ironically, that’s also where my entire fantasy world currently resides.
Anyway – new rule for self-protection: keep your pubic hair. Stay safe.
- Encounters often arise spontaneously and outside of traditional dating apps.
- Cultural notions of closeness, intimacy and attractiveness vary significantly.
- Our own projections play a greater role than we think when getting to know someone.
- Restraint and uncertainty are also part of the process.
- Self-protection begins with taking your own boundaries seriously.
