It was the fifth grade and I was walking down the hallway, hair bleached like Aaron Carter aka Baby Backstreet, wearing a Ricky Williams Dolphins jersey and over-sized flip flops on my way to the bathroom, just being a hot lil’ guy. As I made a sharp right and passed the water fountains, the door of the girl’s bathroom swung open and the smell of lavender, orange and eucalyptus with a hint of arroz con pollo hit me as I laid my cute, adolescent blue eyes on the first real woman I had ever seen in my life.
She was on her Sidekick, so I was quickly able to cover my complicated boner with my hall pass (shout out to hall passes). I said “Hola” with a hard “h,” she laughed and called me a gringo under her breath while I watched her walk away in her beautiful black dress accompanied with a pair of brand new Air Jordans.
It looked a little stupid, but she was perfect.
Since that day I’ve yet to envision a future that doesn’t include a feisty, beautiful, feminine, strong Latina who is so loyal and protective of her man that she is homicidal.
I know you’re probably thinking, “Hey dude, what do you even mean by Latina? They’re not all the same, jerk.”
I know that and I don’t care. I’ll take the “Lemme hesplain suntin to ju” type or the “Omg, I’m so drunk, papi cut me off!” type, or the straight up no English at all type who I’d rescue and take to the big city for a better life. A Latina isn’t going to say, “I only like white boys from New Jersey.” She’s going to say, “I like white boys,” so leave me be. A Colombian girl once asked me where I thought she looked like she was from, so I said “hmm Peru?” She almost beat my ass. So stop asking me questions and let me just admire you.
I’m trying to find her, I am. I’ll be at the bar and I’ll see her, gliding her hips effortlessly to the music with her long ass legs looking all delicious, and I’ll go up to her and say something like “Mmm girl, ima getchu some aguardiente” and she’ll be all like “Oh shit, yeah?” And I’ll signal to the bartender who obviously tells me she has no idea what I’m talking about and my Latina will say something like “You’re stupid,” and I’ll say “Lol, I know,” and that’ll kind of be it.
Maybe I’m scared. I shouldn’t be though. I practice a lot. I can play the intro to “Dile Al Amor” by Aventura on guitar, I can do the dance to “The Ketchup Song” by Las Ketchup, I can Suavemente tu sonrisa all up in your fruta fresca (no idea if that makes any sense).
I just want to let my Latina know that I’m not scared of her attitude, it’s hot. I don’t mind that you take forever to get ready. I’m just going to sit right here on this nice chair and pregame so you take as long as you want. I understand that if I treat you like a woman, you’ll treat me like a man. If you’re not into the whole “I call you mami and you call me papi” thing, that’s fine. I’ll be a little sad, but it’s fine. I’m well aware that your pros far outweigh your cons.
Dating a latina is like having two girlfriends. I need one of those bipolar girlfriends to keep me well behaved.
The type of girl who will make me put my cell phone down.
The type of girl that will whisper shit in my ear for no reason. Lol stop, that tickles.
The type of girl who will call me handsome and treat me how Sofia Vergara treats Joe Mangiello on Instagram.
The type of girl who somehow never works out but is always in great shape.
I’m ready. I’m inspired. I saw Breaking Bad, I saw what the white girl did to Jesse Pinkman and how devastated he was when it didn’t work out with his Latina. I won’t let that happen to me. I just want to have dinner with you and your huge family and when your gorgeous mother asks me if I want more lechon, I’ll look you right in your perfect face and say “Si, si, si, este amore es tan profundo.”
We’ll be so happy together.
Please find me before a “white males seeking Latinas” dating app does. I can see the disaster now. It will be called “Mira!” or “Mondongo!” which I think is just some type of soup. And if you like someone you click “beso” and if not you click “pudrete en el inferno,” which means “rot in hell” or “no.”
Don’t let this happen to me.