“No te gustan los güeros, pero pa’ la proxima?” (You don’t like white guys, but maybe next time?)– My Dad’s dating advice to me about six months ago.
My dad is a full-blooded, tortilla-eating, I’ve-been-here-forty-years-but-speak-English-like-I-crossed-the-border-yesterday type of Mexican. He does own a tejana (cowboy hat) and botas, but he doesn’t wear those in public. He’s kind of metro, but I digress.
During our old blogging days, we dissected “Brown Man disease”–the “disease” men in our community suffer from and the side effects (patriarchy, machismo, hypermasculinity, all that fun stuff) Although we took a humorous tone discussing these things, it came from a place of experience. My dad is Brown Man disease positive. For my dad to insist I try and date a white man is his way of saying, “Mija, as a self-identified brown man, they are no good for you. Run. Save yourself. Those brown men will give you headaches. I know this because I am one. Own a house. Climb that socioeconomic ladder, girl. Get it.”
In the past, I have been rather close-minded. I was 16 years old when I “dated” the last white boy. Naturally, like attracts like. My preference has been to date brown dudes because they “get it.” They get what it mean to have split identities. I don’t have to explain why it smells like Mexican food at my parents house, or why they watch Sabado Gigante sometimes. Trying to explain these things is exhausting. Also, I don’t want to be judged. People judge what they don’t know, and if you judge my identity or my family’s customs, you might as well stick a knife in my heart and twist.
In the past, I have talked about “swirls”– white guys with some sort of debonair/urban twist. Robin Thicke and Justin Timberlake are the complete definition of a swirl. These men can do no wrong and have charm for days. They most definitely can get it.
I’ve tried to give white guys a chance. I really have. But once they start with the, “I love soccer, oh, I’m sorry, futbol.” I gag. Here is a list of white guy behavior that automatically turns me off:
- Telling me about their study abroad trip to Mexico and how they can order “cerveza” like a pro. Afterward, I usually say something along the lines of, “Isn’t it interesting how you can just go into another country with a passport like it’s not a big deal? But my family has had paperwork submitted for their visas since 1995. The borders are closed for them to enter your country, but they can be open for you so you can learn how to binge drink and act like an asshole in a foreign country–my parent’s birth country.” My mind automatically goes to immigration. I’m built that way because I grew up with it in my home. I can’t just turn it off. So yes, I’m going to share my perspective on the matter because I feel it is important.
- Practicing Spanish. This is the most annoying to me. My ability to roll my “R’s” or say things like they are supposed to be said in another language is not a party trick. I’m not your puppet.
- Telling me they only “prefer” Latinas. How disgusting. A person who has the most socioeconomic power telling me that he “prefers” Latinas, as if I were some sort of ice cream flavor. Like he could have the pick of the litter, but he chooses Latinas, as if it’s supposed to be some sort of honor.
I’ve had small crushes on white guys in the past. Stefanie can attest to this since she witnessed me trying to lay the mack down on one guy in particular back in college. Its true, back in 2008/2009, I had a crush on a guy we dubbed, “swirl #1.” He was a sharp dresser, listened to hip-hop, and had a flirty personality. We had several communication studies classes together because we had the same major, but I was always too chicken to try anything. When I talked to him, I tried to channel this:
But Stefanie said I squirmed and acted so awkward that it was more like this:
At this time in my life, I am currently open to whatever situation comes my way. This includes major life-decisions and small choices. I’m not looking for a full-blown relationship with anyone, but if a fly white boy wants to say what’s up, I’ll say hi back. I was recently in Seattle and I initiated a conversation with the cute white boy bartender. We hit it off and he asked for my number. I never heard from him again. I was pretty bummed because he was cute and mostly because I went out on a limb. My friends didn’t hear the end of it for a couple of days, and I openly apologize to them for that, but it was new experience for me! Anyway, I just have to keep it moving. His loss!