It was a rather awkward situation. Mads, my Norwegian companion, and I were among about 10 of a group of friends of our buddy Tamsen's attending his welcome home party for his mail-order bride. I don't remember her name, but her features were striking. A real Latin American hotty, and I understood entirely why Tammy would have chosen her.
Things went sour, though, when I had a chance to talk to her alone. It was Tamsen's idea, actually. He thought it might be good to talk to someone who is also fluent in Spanish, since he isn't, and she can't speak English. It didn't take long for our friendly conversation to turn into a bitch session. He wanted a maid he could have sex with, not a wife. There had to be something wrong with a guy who needed to resort to a mail-order bride to get laid. Is citizenship worth this much?
She ran into the bedroom crying. I took Mads aside and let him know we needed to make a quick exit. Perhaps I shouldn't have said what I said to her, but I needed to get it off my chest.
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