I’m Swedish by Lex McMahon
During my first deployment to the Horn of Africa in 1992, I was stationed in the chaotic third world shit-hole that was Mogidishu, Somalia where living conditions were austere at best. I lived in a dirt fighting hole, didn’t bathe for the first month, ate rancid camel meat, battled a dizzying array of my arch nemesis – snakes, and got shot at regularly by skinny Somali’s wearing flip flops.
So you can imagine my surprise when during my second deployment to Africa in 1994 the MEU commander gave us orders to Mombassa, Kenya, a legendary liberty port full of opportunities for debauchery. Even better was the news that we would be billeted in a five star beach resort, which by the way was a hot bed of beautiful European women on holiday.
Having befriended Umbutu, a local merchant in the hotel, I was perfectly positioned to meet my destiny. Sitting in the lobby one afternoon an absolutely gorgeous Nordic blonde goddess walked out of the African savannah and into my life. As soon as I laid eyes on this lovely lady I knew she would be mine. Oh yes, she would be mine!
Me: Wow, who is that?
Umbutu: You’ve got good taste my friend, her name is Pernilla Larson, she is a tour guide for the Europeans. Would you like me to introduce you?
Pernilla Larson…sounds Swedish. I wonder if the stories about Swedish women being sexually free-spirited are true? I’m damn well going to find out.
Me: Umbutu, you’re kidding right? You know her?
Umbutu: Lex, don’t be silly my smitten friend. Of course I know her. And you may want to wipe that drool off your chin before she notices.
Me: Damn skippy. Hook me up, brother!
A few days later I stopped by Umbutu’s shop, a trendy boutique serving the fashion needs of Mombasa’s social divas and European tourists alike, where I was greeted with the glorious news that he had invited a group of friends out for a night of drinks and clubbing. Pernilla would be there and was looking forward to meeting me.
Holy shit! The hot Swedish girl wants to meet me.
On the appointed day I met up with Umbutu and his crew for a night on the town. Pernilla looked absolutely stunning with full luscious lips, long firm legs, and a perfect set of tits that would make even Jenna Jameson jealous. Additionally. she had a warm and engaging personality that made conversation easy. After several hours of dancing it was obvious that Pernilla was taken by my natural charm and Michael Jackson like dance moves (tough to beat the lawn mower and robot!) As Pernilla leaned in for a kiss, I had a flash back to the wisdom of Bob Hodges, Robert Duvall’s character in the movie Colors: “There’s two bulls standing on top of a mountain. The younger one says to the older one: “Hey pop, let’s say we run down there and fuck one of them cows”. The older one says: “No son. Lets walk down and fuck ’em all.”
Ok Lex, play it cool. Kiss her on the cheek and tell her you’re interested in more than just her body, you want to get to know her first.
Pernilla looked at me and smiled. I’m sure she was thinking wow what a gentlemen. Sure. And Michael Jackson was clearly hetero, he was just misunderstood.
A week later Pernilla and I went out for a romantic dinner. I spared no expense trying to impress her. First we went to a Belgian restaurant where we had champagne and wine. Next we went to the club for some dancing. And then to the beach for a walk under the full moon light as the warm water from the Indian Ocean washed over our feet. It was a perfect night.
Sensing that the mood was right, it was now time to move the party up to my room, I did one of the cheesiest and most cliché things I had ever done; I invited her up to room so I could read her poetry. Yep, that’s right, poetry. About five lines into my poem, Pernilla looked at me and said the best thing a women has ever said to me (of course excluding when my lovely wife accepted my proposal):
“Lex, I’m Swedish, we’re going to have sex.”
Oh thank God!
Shit, I just blew a load.
I wonder if she is typically European and has hairy armpits, legs, and bush? Fuck it, who am I kidding, she could have a Persian back rug and I’d still hump her.
At the time, the true meaning of what Pernilla was saying to me did not sink in. Yes, we had marathon sex sessions that were worthy of a gold medal in the Sexual Olympics! In fact we dated for nearly six months – it was incredible! However, with a bit of age and wisdom came the realization that what Pernilla was really saying was “Dude, you’re gonna get laid, quit trying so hard. You’re embarrassing yourself and I’m becoming less attracted to you with every verse of your pathetic dribble!” Damn you and your bulls Bob Hodges!
So the moral of the story kids is when a hot Swedish chick moves in to kiss you, don’t be a douche and pull the Don Juan crap. Ranger up and get the girl to bed as quickly as possible before she changes her mind. Good things come to those who wait, but only the things left behind by those who hustled.