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As an apple pie eating, football-watching, gun-owning American, I thank God that I was born in the U.S. of A. There exists nothing on this earth that I would trade being a son of this mighty country for, not even a whiskey-soaked two-year stint with the roster of the Victoria’s Secret fashion show in the Bahamas. However, there comes a point in everyone’s college career where you are offered the opportunity to broaden your horizons, to leave this nation and learn the culture of a new one. I advise you to seize that moment for one reason: the women.
Not to disparage the selection of tail we have in our own backyard, because there is nothing like a homegrown American woman, but something about foreign ladies is just flat out hot. Maybe it’s the blood of our ancestors coursing through our veins, demanding we claim the unknown in the name of our country and ourselves. Maybe it’s the prospect of something new, or the need to gift the red, white and blue brand of sexual disappointment to girls from every corner of the globe. Whatever our motivations, the desire to bed foreign hotties churns within all of us.
Equipped with the consensus second sexiest accent on the planet (according to Time magazine, I’m not even making this shit up) your landfall on foreign soil should be swift and powerful. Like the brave soldiers who landed on the beaches of France in 1944, this is your finest hour. Strive to alert everyone within a 15-mile radius that you are an American on a mission, and that mission is to breed with the native women. There isn’t a wall that’s too tall, a cultural barrier too steep, or a foreign law too stupid to prevent you from achieving this goal.
The best part is that you don’t even need an in. The fact that you’re there is your pickup line. Have you ever seen the foreign exchange student at a bar? He asks a stupid question about some simple American custom and girls fawn over him like he’s the human version of a teacup pig. In other countries, that stupid rat bastard is you. You’re the Forrest Gump sounding idiot-hero with all the panty-dropping power. You’re not a smart man, but you sure as hell know what intercourse is.
Now, fair warning, be prepared for some really messed up shit. Girls in foreign countries play by a different set of rules than the chicks back home. Be ready for leather, like “slaughtered a cow out back” amounts of leather. These women are nuts. They might tie you to double decker bus, they might ride you down the steps of the Coliseum or even try to shove a silver egg into your rectum. Remember, you’re an American. There are very few non-academic things that you’re unable to handle.
Have you ever been screamed at in a torrent of gibberish while having sex? It’s erotic. Oh, and guess what? The foreign broads you’ll be pounding in the name of the stars and stripes can’t do anything but. You don’t even need to know what they’re saying. It could be their grandmother’s chicken alfredo recipe or demands to switch positions; it’s all the same shit to you. What would America do? America would do whatever the hell it wants and assume the gibberish was an attempt to thank it for gracing them with its presence. Be the sexual equivalent of America.
As a modern fraternity gentleman, you are the product of hundreds of years of American evolution, making you the most effective seed spreader in the history of the United States. It is your destiny, and your patriotic duty to bang your way through the exotic countryside, to spread the word of freedom from the tip of your dick. So go forth my fellow degenerates and spread the message, for in the words of our resident titan of thrust, Benjamin Franklin, “I came, she came, I conquered.” .