What it means to date an Espanola
By Richard Brown
Slanderous was the article my dear Spanish partner wrote in the last issue of XelaWho about what it is like to date this gringo. Here is my rebuttal, informed by the teaching of our epitomal General Patton that a good offense is the best defense. Patton also said that the will to win could determine the fate of a culture. Indeed, in my partner this will is weak, like her physical constitution. Just as in soccer it is socially acceptable to tie a game, it is socially acceptable in Spain to sleep during the day, every day. It appears that the American will to excel and to innovate is matched in Spain only by the will to nap. The bed calls to the Spaniard like free enterprise calls to the American.
Lazy red Spaniards. During the workweek, my partner spends as much time as possible lying down, like a soccer player. Specifically, like Marcelo of Real Madrid; her, no, our soccer team. I accept that the name of my, no, our football team, the Washington Redskins, comes from the slur settlers would use to refer to their victims as they burned villages and killed people. But at least my team picks what they put on their uniforms, even if it’s the disembodied head of an Indian. We don’t have ‘Fly Emirates’ stamped over our hearts like Christianaldo. How shameless.
Spanish culture apparently eschews American-style capitalism. But don’t be fooled! Our dear Real Madrid can spend virtually what it wants to buy top players to steamroll poorer teams. Even the Reds***s can’t do that!
In fact, Spain’s unregulated capitalism, my partner explains, caused the country’s economic meltdown; unregulated speculation in the housing market inflated values astronomically and left millions underwater when values crashed. But it’s like I always tell her when she talks politics: Dude, you still have a king. What are you doing with a king still??? Come back and talk to me when you don’t have a king anymore.
This is about as outdated as her music understanding. When Hotel California comes on, she goes, ‘I LOVE this song!’ like that’s news. If you know her, try writing ‘Kanye’ and asking her to pronounce it. And when she complains about English, I ask her what kind of nonsense language makes the most popular words for ‘dick’ feminine? La verga, la polla… and then el cono for p***y ??? It’s a mood killer when she refers to my member as ‘she’.
Anyway, my partner is chronically injured, often by me and most recently from pretty serious whiplash I gave her at the bumper cars at the fair this year. Sorry honey, I’m used to crashing into bumper cars piloted by hearty American women with Calvinistic work ethics. The fact is that she is uncoordinated, but I have been training her. It is entirely cultural; she is simply betrayed by a society that permits physical horizontality at any hour which causes poor hand-eye coordination. When we met and I tossed her things her whole body would spasm in surprise and anger as her limbs flailed like those of a crab being held in the air. Now she’ll catch keys from 15 yards, and when I took her shooting she was, believe it or not, a better shot than I. There is hope for Spain.