It’s Friday night and you’re hitting the town with your friends. You’ve had one too many vodka-crans and you’re ready to get the show on the road. And that’s when you see him: tall, dark, and European. It’s every girl’s dream to meet a suave foreign exchange student at a hole-in-the-wall college bar. Secretly wishing you find out later that he’s the prince of some country you’ve never heard of, you waltz over and strike up your best “I’m really not that drunk” small talk. You find out he’s on scholarship to play tennis or rugby or whatever (Does it really matter?) but he plans to go back to his homeland after he graduates next semester. Of course, nothing but his accent matters to your inebriated brain at this point. It’s almost last call and you have one of two options: go home and hold your roommates hair, or mosey on home with the foreign fox and let him show you a jolly good time. You should always go with the latter–think of the bucket list accomplishments, ladies–but first you need to know the right way to go about it.
Do: act genuinely interested in his culture. Even though you’re probably more interested in the D, ask questions. “What’s your favorite thing about home?” “Is the food very different?” “Have you ever met a terrorist?” You know, the usual.
Don’t: ask him to say certain things on account of his accent. I promise he probably gets asked 1,000 times a day to repeat, “I’m in me mum’s car! Vroom vroom,” so please, do him a favor and don’t be that girl.
Do: understand that he’s probably a man whore and you’re not going to be his American sweetheart. He’s going back to wherever he came from soon enough, and he’s probably never going to see you or the 17 other bitches he’s slept with this month ever again. Do yourself a favor and don’t expect any long-term commitment.
Don’t: pretend to be Kate Middleton or Grace Kelly or Jackie O. As much as we would all love a good Cinderella story with a duke or the owner of a small country, chances are, he’s a peasant. Nobody wants a peasant. Save yourself the disappointment and just assume he’s a commoner.
Don’t: catch feelings. He’s going to leave, and you’re going to turn into Bella Swan waiting for Edward to come back in “New Moon”–and who wants to be compared to Kristen Stewart? In a perfect world, he would fall in love with you after your one-night sexcapade and decide to stay in the States to continue said sexcapade. But take a hint from T.Swift: you’re not a princess, and this isn’t a fairytale. If you didn’t take away anything from this, just remember that FEELINGS ARE BAD.
So there you have it–your foolproof guide to the foreign hookup. Do it for the stories, do it for the bucket list, or just do it because you can. Do it for the callouts at your senior send-off. Do it for the tea and crumpets he’ll get you for breakfast the next morning. And who knows? Maybe you’ll be that one in a million girl who finds Prince Harry at the bar and we’ll all watch your wedding on TV. But if you don’t take my advice and you do get your heart broken by the foreign fox, just remember: he’s probably a communist. ‘Merica..
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