It started out clean – my experience with a website dedicated to Bulgaria’s expatriate community.

I answered the pertinent questions: I’m Canadian. I’m living in Sofia. I enjoy lattes and easy conversations. My eyes are brown.

What’s my love style? Passionate, I suppose…but I’m not looking for love, just someone to wander with.

I posted a few questions on expatinbulgaria.com’s discussion board: Anyone know where to go skydiving? Horseback riding? Where can I find a spa in Sofia?

The first person to express an interest in “hanging out” was a 31-year-old from Ireland. He said he had just moved to the country, one hour north of Sofia. He wanted to get out and explore the old world. I’ll call him D. His messages seemed friendly, and I liked the way he wrote, how his accent came through his words on my screen.

We made plans for the weekend, maybe a bike ride and a beer.

Prior to this meeting, however, I received several messages from a couple of other expats. There was S, a 37-year-old Australian living in Varna, and E, a 39-year-old Belgian who wanted to rendez-vous sooner than later.

After two weeks of talking to myself, I was feeling desperate to get out and do anything with anybody. I refer to this as blind dating in Bulgaria, simply because none of these guys had posted photos of themselves. No biggie, though. It’s not like I was looking for, you know, a boyfriend.

I showed up at Candle, the meeting spot with E, just after 9pm on a Thursday. It was ultra-hip and packed. I made every effort to look cool, even though I felt every table in room knew I was there to meet a man I met online. Thankfully, in my periphery, I noticed a hand wave and a tall blonde rise from his chair. It was E. Oh my, you certainly look older than 39, was my first thought. But he could speak my language, and that’s all I cared about because at that point, I’d basically forgotten how to talk.

Though E admitted he was in fact 44, I still had a great night discussing poverty, communism and what the term “below sea level” actually means. I figured I’d ask, considering he was from the Netherlands and NOT Belgium. We moved from Candle to a rustic little pub tucked into the bottom of the same street, where I may have had one glass of wine too many.

I was ready to call it a good night…until he made the move. Blind dating in Bulgaria? What have you done this time, Karen?

My first thought, when I woke up (in my own bed) the next morning, was that I needed to remove myself from this website immediately, go solo, hang out at Murphy’s or something, meet people like a normal human being.

Instead, I decided I would just make it very clear to the next person that I was looking for companionship, but not between the sheets. I did exactly that when S expressed a keen desire to meet somewhere halfway between his place and mine. I considered it, but after the last experience, there was no way I was hopping on a bus to meet a stranger four hours away, even if he did send me his passport photo. I told him flat out, I wasn’t THAT kind of girl. No response.

When it came time to meet D, I paid little attention to my appearance. With E, I wore my favourite white dress and some perfume. I even considered ditching my trademark hat.

This time I threw on my jean skirt, a t-shirt and hit the road. When I arrived at Murphy’s, I sat for what seemed like forever at the bar thinking, someone’s looking at me right now, he knows exactly who I am and I’m sure he’s deciding whether to flee or introduce himself. The guy I had hoped was D came over with a smile on his face, and the most charming Irish accent. I told him about my previous expat meeting, and he assured me he was just looking for an adventure, as was I.

In an attempt later that night to find Motto, a trendy bar I lunched in a week earlier, we left Murphy’s to flag a vacant taxi, and then a driver who knew the spot. We thought we found one, but it soon became clear he hadn’t a clue. He drove around in circles and spoke furiously into his cell phone to people we assumed were friends. We heard Motto on several occasions. Finally, figuring we’d just have to settle for something else, we let him drop us off in the middle of nowhere.

Before calling it a night at the outdoor bar we found, D and I made plans to go for a bike ride the next day. But following through with plans doesn’t come by easy for two strangers in a foreign country: I waited at the Alexander Nevski Cathedral for 45 minutes, while he waited elsewhere. I sent him a message to apologise, he called that evening and we made plans to hookup a few hours later – no getting lost this time.

When I saw him sitting alone at a table on a quiet outdoor patio, barefoot and relaxed, I was glad I didn’t give up on the expat website, or blind dating in Bulgaria.

And hey, I can just ignore C, the 51-year-old man who recently commented on my profile picture: “LOVE those curves.”