Women...I figured them out

So, I have been asked by many people why I don't have a Panamanian girlfriend. My guy friends say that they can't beleive it becuase these girls are latinas, and all that piel canela and that long hair and big hips would be something they swear they would have already fallen victim to. My girl friends can't understand it because not any other place in the world, they claim, are you going to find women who, they beleive, are prepared to submit themselves to a life a housewifery, and no other place will I find someone who will eagerly put my food on the table when I walk in the door from a hard days work providing the bacon. And my panamanian friends are just so accustomed to marrying, or matching up, thier own women that it would just seem normal that after two years, some Panamanian mama would have swept me off my feet.

You can imagine my frustration when I came down with some of the same conceptions, and the befuttlement of all the people who ask me when I am going to get married to a Panamanian (which usually comes up in conversations about visas and work permits), and I simply reply "Don't know yet." And maybe their bewildered look is actually a little bit of offense ("what, so this gringo thinks hes too good for our women") or just plain caught-off-guard-ness ("wow, he really doenst know.") I would say that even I felt the stupor of "what happened" that my interrigators often convey.

Until this last weekend. I figured it out. I don't think there has been any Panamanian wowzers that have taken my breath away becuase they are all TOO delicate.

A little confused? Being an american, this is the woman that I have grown up to know as the embodiment of the feminine spirit:

With Willa Cather writing about Antonia and Alexandra in her books, Rosie the Riveter and many other not so June Cleaver-ish example of the American woman, I think I understand why I haven't fallen into the throngs of Panamanian woman.

Don't get me wrong: I like chivalry. I like the idea of protecting a woman and her looking out for me. (Not machismo, just chivalry.) But to a point. And the point that gets me is when Panamanian women are just too delicate. When they wont open doors for themselves. When they wont lift suitcases or anything more than 3 pounds. When they talk so quiantly that I have to ask "WHAT?" like I am going deaf every time I am speaking.

I thought I liked delicacy, but now I think it is just abuse. I want to open the door for my wife, I want to carry her heavy things for her. But I don't want her to wait by the door if I can't open it for her. I don't want her to not do things in her job or at the house or wherever she is becuase it might break her nails. I don't want her to not do fun things like go to the beach because she might get sun-burnt, or go to the park becuase she might sweat. (All real life events that have happened to me in Panama.)

Maybe thats the epitome of women: strength. The American woman shows her strength outwardly, fighting for the rights she deserves, and making sure that she can do whatever is required of her to show her family, her friends and anyone who might need it that they are cared for. The Panamanina woman shows her strength in being patient with the overly childish men in her life, bearing the well being of everyone knows upon herself. But that inward strength, and outward delicacy, is the reason that I feel I haven't been swept off my feet. I feel my way of showing her I love her would turn to a feeling that I feel taken advantage of, because the reason that I want to do those things for her became simply the expectation of a good suitor.

Some jumbled thoughts, but I think it figured it out. DAMN DELICACY!!!