How Adult Chatlines Taught Me to Count in Dutch

Back in 2001, during the first few weeks of my new life in the Netherlands I would occasionally suffer from insomnia. I’d moved into a slightly strange temporary apartment in Amsterdam (which had been setup by my work). This at least meant that I no longer had to worry about finding hotels to live in during tourist season. However, there were still a lot of other worries and challenges that kept me awake at night.

I would spend most late nights flicking from channel to channel on the TV in search of entertainment that would hopefully help my brain switch off. I had quite a lot of channels to choose from while wearing out the batteries of the remote control. Luckily for non-Dutch speaking me from back then the Dutch showed a lot of English and American television shows (which they only subtitled instead of re-dubbing them).

During the first real late night of my insomnia I had the television on as a distraction again. It was about to turn midnight and I was still wide awake. On the screen the A-Team were taking on a group of corrupt police in a final showdown but I was only half paying attention. My thoughts had wandered off again and were contemplating the many challenges of living in a country where I did not understand the language.

I was only half aware of the television show’s credits rolling when something completely unexpected happened. Suddenly a semi-nacked, highly aroused young woman appeared on the screen and started telling me how much she wanted me to call her. I hardly had a moment to work out what was going on before another young lady (this one was unable to stop licking suggestive objects) started enthusiastically telling me that I should call her too. It didn’t stop there either. Several more commercials with young ladies in different states of undress and arousal started telling me why I should call all of them as well (the general consensus seemingly being, “for a good time”).

I was not used to anything like this from mainstream British television. This was the kind of thing you had to pay extra for on unlisted satellite channels. I was more than a little surprised by the explicitness of some of the commercials. Most of these young ladies could barely sit still or stop moving in suggestive ways, they were too excited and energized. I, on the other hand, was watching late night television to wind-down in the hopes I would fall asleep. I was trying to switch my brain off, not turn something else on.

Suddenly an old episode of AirWolf started. The extreme juxtaposition made me wonder if my lack of sleep had just made me hallucinate the whole televisual parade of overexcited women. However, I soon found out that I had not. During a commercial break between AirWolf and Knight Rider it happened again. More women in desperate need of clothes started giving me their phone numbers too.

Over the nights that followed I soon discovered that Dutch television would undergo this sudden and unexpected change every night. It was as if someone, somewhere in the Netherlands, suddenly flipped a switch and every Dutch television channel became a soft porn broadcasters. They are everywhere. Even mainstream channels that broadcast family friendly shows during the day were suddenly filled with images of highly aroused women advertising their late night chat lines.

During my teenage years I would not have believed my luck upon such a discovery. However, during my early days in the Netherlands they were just a sign that I’d stayed up too late again. I wanted some normal entertainment. Something boring even.

After a while of seeing these commercials it just became normal. I don’t think it happens any more. Most Dutch television channels probably re-thought the whole thing a long time ago. I don’t know for sure though. I’ve not checked.

Either way, I do owe something to those excited women in those late night commercials. There was one way in which they were able to help me when I was alone and lonely in this country with no company. They taught me how to count in Dutch.

Those semi-naked women were reading the numbers on the screen aloud. I could mimic what they were saying while following the visual aid on screen. This was how in just three nights I learned to count to nine in a very sexy Dutch voice. I quickly decided that moaning between each number was probably not necessary though.

Nul… Een… Twee… Drie…

Sadly these highly stimulated women couldn’t teach me much more Dutch beyond counting (not anything that was workplace appropriate at least). I soon decided that it was time to take up Dutch lessons. At the time I had no idea that that would get just as weird too.