Are Mexican men romantic

"Write something about sex," I recently read in my emails at this point. I was sitting there in Mexico and at that moment I might even have thought about sex. Sex. Of all things! Dear reader, I really enjoy talking and writing about sex. Of course only because I never have it. Hardly ever. Except at Christmas. Even Santa Claus doesn't know why this is so. That's why I can't explain to you here how to transform yourself into a Latin lover. But rest assured, that is also not necessary.

Mexican women, for example, are really into German men. The more shy, the better. Because if you can't open your mouth, you are usually condemned to be loyal. Swabia and Westphalia top the list. But Franconian boys are also very popular. The Latino girls believe that you leave your socks on during sex, but with your reputation as loyal souls, you could even go to bed with them in a raincoat. Faithful stands out. Incidentally, we Franconians think similarly. However - and there, too, Franconians and Latinas are the same - we much prefer to go out with a South American in the evening than with you. There are practical reasons for this:

First, he picks us up at home. In the BMW, the latest model, while Franconian fathers hardly ever get their cars out.

Second: He understands when we're still in the bathroom and applying eyeshadow. After all, he walked around town all day wearing a hairnet to keep his carefully combed gel mat from slipping. You, on the other hand, think that stuff like that is silly. That's why we always have to be ready to groom and pretend we're getting out of bed early. How exhausting.

Third: His VISA Gold plays an important role this evening. You insist on emancipation.

Fourth, he feeds us any lie we want to listen to. We have the most beautiful eyes, the most charming smile and how intelligent we are! You, on the other hand, tug at your beer felt or talk about bike brakes.

Yes, you still have to fine-tune the courtship ritual a little. You can score points for this towards the end of the evening.

The Mexican cavalier will be on our doorstep at some point and look like a dog in the Chappi factory. He wags his tail and wants to know if we're tired yet. Of course, that happens too quickly for us. “Isn't your girlfriend waiting for you?” We chirp underhandedly. Always works. The gel in his hair freezes with shock, and we slam the door - filled with female solidarity. Faithless macho pig!

You are very different there. With an arm's length safety margin, you accompany us to the Nightliner to give us the last section of your strip ticket. That is true Franconian romance. If you're drunk, you even give us another quick press and say things like: "Fähschlohf fei dei Haldeschdälln näd!" Oh, shy knights in golden armor, you are so cute! We would love to eat you right away. If only the bus hadn't already left.

At some point you somehow belong together. But we still have to ask ourselves when you will finally show us the ??? - cassette collection. That makes us feel very fuzzy. After all, you're a little more talkative now. For example, you say that the club is no longer what it used to be and you suspect that Sabine Christiansen is going to the tanning salon. But we don't even listen to you, we are already so fuzzy. We suddenly wonder whether it was right to spurn Mexicans, whether we will ever find out what your bed linen looks like and whether it actually makes sense to be faithful.

And then you ask me to write something about sex? Maybe on the weekend, then it's finally Christmas ...