I have come to the realization that I do not speak English. At least I don’t speak English the way the British speak English.

I was in a store in Swansea’s city centre shopping for clothes to be more in line with European fashion.

Who knew you can’t wear tennis shoes into clubs? I was with a group of Americans in a men’s store waiting for another American, Benny, to try on a pair of pants.

When he finally decided on what to buy, the other American girls and I decided to tease him a bit about his fondness of shopping.

“Benny’s buying some hot pants,” we taunted.

“He is going to be pimpin’ in those pants later!” All of a sudden we felt quiet all around us.

Everyone in the store was staring at us.

I know we are loud Americans, but just then we realized British people call their underwear pants, and they call what we call pants, trousers.

A little embarrassed, we decided to wait outside for Benny to pay.

The difference in American English and British is minimal when you think of how many words the English language contains, but it’s so easy to notice the discrepancies rather than the big picture.

My friend Beth was in a campus computer lab desperately trying to get her email to work.

After about an hour of waiting, she finally asked a lab monitor to help her.

The monitor was busy and looked distressed.

“My computer is broken,” Beth told him.

“Are you taking the piss?” the monitor asked.

Beth was a bit appalled.

Of course he didn’t think she was urinating in the computer lab.

She just wanted the man to fix her computer.

We wondered about this saying for days before some American finally got enough courage to ask a flatmate what it meant.

We were quite relieved to find out if you ask someone if they are “taking the piss,” you are asking if they are kidding or being sarcastic.

You are not asking them if they are urinating in a public place.

It’s almost uncomfortable to hear slang words I would never say in America being used as slang in a different way here.

The first night I moved into my flat, my flatmate, Jess, was so happy to learn all seven of us who shared the apartment smoke.

She took out her cigarettes and offered me one.

“Would you like a fag, Tara?” Jess asked.

I had already heard this term, but it still choked me up.

I couldn’t get out a “yes” without coughing.

I am still not used to calling cigarettes “fags.”

It doesn’t settle right with me.

The next day, the same flatmate was writing a list of school supplies to buy before classes started.

Now, I generally don’t consider condoms a classroom necessity, but my roommate was ready to pick me up some rubbers for my first class.

It’s kind of a joke with us now when I tell them what something means in America.

My flatmates catch themselves in the middle of sentences correcting language to tell me rubbers are what we call erasers.

Now I am becoming better at the slang and try to incorporate the many meanings of words like “cheers.” Just the one word, “cheers” can mean hello, goodbye, please, thank you, and you’re welcome.

Now I can adjust to harder slang.

I know what my roommates are saying when they come home and say, “I got off with some bloke last night, but I was so pissed I don’t even remember snogging.”

“I made out with some guy last night, but I was so drunk I don’t even remember kissing.”