I’m no stranger to hooking up. As a proud fraternity member at DeVry University, I hook up all the time. I hook up my gaming mouse to my computer when I play League of Legends, I hook up my bra that shapes and molds my saggy manboobs, and I hook up with babes on eHarmony (in that we get matched up–we don’t, like, kiss or any of that gross junk). While I admit that 95 percent of my eHarmony profile information is incorrect, I’m convinced that once my matches get to know me–the real me–they’ll get over the fact that I’m not actually a wealthy, racecar-driving doctor. I’m wrong, but I’m still convinced that’s how it is, so it’s chill.
All things considered, it surprisingly appears as if even I might be able to get laid in Brazil right now.
From NY Post:
The past three weeks’ flood of foreign soccer fans — the vast majority of them men — has been a boon for the single women of Brazil, where a demographic imbalance means they outnumber men by more than 4 million nationally. The imbalance, the result of higher mortality rates among young men, is particularly acute in Rio de Janeiro, where there are just over nine men for every 10 women, according to the 2010 census. That’s about the same as New York City, another metropolis known for its lack of eligible single men.
The Brazilian babes are taking advantage of the sudden influx of single men, and why wouldn’t they? I don’t think either side involved is complaining on this one. Sucks for single Brazilian men, though. Must be pretty emasculating to see your potential sweetie getting rubbed up on by some sweaty guy named Jacques. Man, I wish I was there. I’ve always wanted to use the pickup line “me big, American man” to see if it works somewhere besides that Thai, shemale bar I definitely didn’t go to.
In other news, New York City is in need of some single men? I’m down. I could only be in open relationships if I moved to New York, however, because in order to afford the rent, I’d probably have to make an “under the table” arrangement with my landlord, if you know what I mean… Me. I’m the one who’d be under the table. Because I’d be blowing him in exchange for discounted rent. It’s a TFM.
Have fun while it lasts, World Cup patrons.
[via NY Post]
Image via Twitter