Wednesday, May 28, 2008

Dating White People (And Why You Shouldn't)

Yes, those of us at the Angry Desi Blog (true, we are only two twenty-something angry desi American males, but our awesomeness is equivalent to about thirteen dozen white people, give or take a Scandinavian family) are aware that we've been on a hiatus of more than a year.

You see, this is normal for Desis. We don't go anywhere or do anything on time. Or at least White People's Time (decided by things like clocks, schedules, agendas, and alarms on your BlackBerry) -- we more or less do stuff when we feel like it (this will be all explained in a future post).

CURRY -- Creating Understable Reverse-Racism Year-round -- is certainly not defunct. We Desis of the world are still very much planning the destruction of every member of your Caucasian race.

Especially after dating one.

I know exactly the thoughts that are running through all of your heads right now.

Jesus Christ! They're sleeping with our women! Guess I better start usin' protection, and tell the Missus that if she wanted someone who was small down there [sic: author's note, the myth of asian smallness will be covered in future posts], she should'a gotten a Chink.

Well, rest-assured, my lighter-skinned friends, that arc of my life is over. It's true, any Desi can just about pick up any white chick he wants, because they're easy as hell to pick up. All you have to do is throw some money in their face, tell them you're studying for some kind of liberal arts, law, or business degree, and treat 'em to some kind of Asian Fusion place downtown a couple of times and they'll trip over themselves in a mad attempt to make love to your cultured, sophisticated self -- complete with lines like "Stop being so interesting! (in reference to a throwaway line to traveling to Pakistan once) or "I wish I wasn't white" (now who could blame you for that?).

And therein lies the rub. To be with a white girl, you have to continually prove to her that you're some kind of sensitive, worthy, appreciative male who reads Sartre and wants to "connect with her" on some kind of New Agey, pseudospiritual level. If you fail to do that, your gal will run off away from with you some kind of idea that she just can't have a deep and committed relationship with you, because she's just an explorer in the Big Game of Life and she feels suffocated by the fact that you don't live up to her obscene post-Enlightenment ideas about love and life.

Not that that's what happened to me. Of course not.

It's true, there are hot white women on the planet, who no self-respecting man -- whether it be a morally corrupt and fiscally incompetent Caucasian or superior-in-every-way Desi -- would be able to look at without involuntarily uttering the words, "I'd tap that, go watch Bend It Like Beckham, and then tap it again while chomping on some Chana-Puri." Like Scarlett Johanson. If that doesn't get you up, then you need to be castrated.

"I'm only this color on the outside."

Still, these exceptions (Meg Ryan, Keira Knightley if the damn girl learned to eat, and Rachel Weisz are included here) to the White-Girls-Are-Too-Sensitive-And-Don't-Put-Out Rule do not really justify risking the white girl pool. The chance that the Caucasian woman you pick up at a party is one of the four aforementioned women is very slim -- something in the range of one in oh-God-these-white-women-never-shut-up-just-make-out -- thus it is a rational and mathematically justified choice to avoid them altogether. See, logic solves everything.

Again, this has nothing to do with my recent disastrous relationship with a white girl that I am using to judge all white girls on the planet. That's impossible. It can't be that I'm just bitter and we don't talk anymore and JESUS CHRIST WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU'RE AFRAID OF HURTING ME YOU'RE DOING THAT RIGHT NOW YOU B-


The moral of the story is, don't go white with your booty. It just isn't worth it. You want a woman who heeds your beck and call, and doesn't read Betty Friedan or support the nineteenth amendment and puts out as a matter of womanly responsibility.

You want a brownie.

"I don't read obscure philosophy books or take out stupid subprime mortgage loans. And I like to do it with samosas involved.

The best places to find one are any place where they sell things cheap, have food that's not bland (avoid anything European, which you should do as a general rule anyway), and have spontaneous dancing.

Good luck and good hunting, gentlemen.

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

Brownies taste good.