A year ago I was on exchange in the U.S.. A clear intention inhabited my mind: getting rich and powerful gringo to marry him. Studied in a large university, with thousands of wealthy Americans and wealthy to choose from. But nevertheless chose the third way. Of all the gringos rich and powerful, for my crushes the half proved to be a Colombian, Indian and Ethiopian. Oséase work you taste for the third world. Luckily I am Mexican.
In analyzing this question I ask myself, what I saw in those eyes of developing country? Why I left my aspirations of wealth and power to pursue these souls Latino, Asian and African? It happens that, as I said a friend, my pickup policies are based on positive discrimination. Which becomes equivalent to saying that in questions of flirting, I like brown skin-social uninsured. Regardless of my weaknesses
personal, there are certain things that you feel like a Mexican and find her lover in turn. More than anything is being what is the quality, warmth and fever, the male working your country. Perhaps it is mere habit, which became an addiction, but while I was out my response to "what strange of Mexico?" Always been "chubby men and pork crackling." For the gringos
Diplomacy and a you need a bit of political incorrectness. Sparks of indecency that lead to the looks ganosas or "vengachepacamireina." Hard to take after so many complaints that I made about it, but what they feel empty without the bleak streets of the master builder. Because then leave us nothing to offend. Very fine and very own, I urge tantito contempt.
Do not take me wrong, I do not want male abusers. It's just a matter of spice. The other day I read in a text of comedian Marco A. Almazán dating to the Mexican 95% based on questions motivated by jealousy, like "Why do you say Pepe if you know my name Dagobert?" Something has to true, the drama in our relationships becomes essential. I do not know if it's me but I like conflict, and some first world feel them wrapped in an aura of passivity.
Before leaving the wrong impression it is clear that I generalizand. Of course there are citizens of developed countries that if I flirt with their tabs blondes, easily abandon native cravings. My addiction to the Men of the South also has its limits. This became clear when the Ethiopian, who was a doctor, suggested that if we got married I would land and I train to be a nurse. Or when an Arab suggested to my friend, in the most seductive tones, "LLU merry me, I Give rain camels." Now you, as they say, comments turnoff.
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