Written by Ellie James
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Tags: british, Love

Sunday, 1 May 2011

image for One Woman's Search for the Stereotypical British Guy Photo of a poster Felicia has in her very "British" ranch house in Montana.

For some, the quest for love has them make up false claims about themselves on internet match making sites. For others, they rely simply on hanging out at Starbucks with their laptops hoping the attractive doctor they've been eying for a month will finally say hello. Yet, there is a woman in Montana, who has decided to go for guys named David. Not just any David will do either. She's looking for a stereotypical British guy by the name of David.

Her plan? It's simple and brilliant. She has sent friend requests to all guys named David who live in the UK. Of all the David's who accept her friend request, she then begins to weed them out. What does he do with David's under the age of 35? She blocks them. What about David's over the age of 48? They are blocked as well. Unless they look like George Clooney or Orlando Bloom then they stay in her friend list. Even if they look like Brad Pitt, she blocks them because she's really not into blondes.

So, how does this American woman from Bozeman, Montana plan on meeting one of these British guys when there's not even an airport close to her? She's unsure. "I haven't put that much thought into it," says Felicia (last name with held), age 42. "I just really want the accent and all the stereotypical British things, and the dry sarcastic wit."

When I show her that there are British import stores with all things British, she shrugs. "It's not the same. Yeah, I know I can get some tea and biscuits from British Imports are Us, but it's not the same as having a REAL British guy make the tea for you!"

The accent is another real attraction for Felicia. She can no longer be amused by watching movies featuring Hugh Grant without actually wanting a British guy of her own. "American accents are so unrefined," she states. When I remind her that she herself has an American accent, she tells me in a very polite British way to fuck off.

As I talk with Felicia, it is clear that her real fascination with British things began with the Twilight movies. "Edward is so amazing and hot," she says wiping sweat off her brow. I tell her, "You realize that in the movie, Edward isn't British, right? He's just a British actor playing an American vampire. And he's blonde. His accent in the movie is American Vampire." Again, she's not impressed by my logic and then begins to show me all the British things she has collected in her house.

She had am impressive array of British chocolates. She has Cadbury Flakes. Cadbury Chocolate Buttons, and the Cadbury Time Out. When I told her I had actually seen the Time Out bar in a candy shop on South Congress in Austin, Texas she was confused and told me I must have been mistaken because American candy shops don't carry such elegant chocolate. "You can only get those in England," she tells me. By this time, I've stopped trying to reason with her because I figure she lives on a small ranch in Bozeman, Montana. What does she know of World Market where you can actually buy this stuff? Or, that candy shop in Austin?

I continued on the tour of her very British ranch house, looking at her very British things. There were all sorts of McVities items such as Ginger Nuts, Jammie Dodgers and Penguin Biscuits. She also had a wide assortment of curry powder, sauces and condiments. "Are you aware that curry comes from India?" I ask her? She assures me that the Native Americans didn't use curry, and that curry was definitely British. Then she showed me her freezer full of meat pies.

I don't know if Felicia will ever land a British guy like this. If she does, maybe he'll feel at home on her British ranch house in the middle of nowhere. Most likely not though. One thing is for certain I did score a few Cadbury Crème Egg Twisted Bars. I hit the mother lode with that piece of chocolate orgasm. That, I was certain, could not be bought in the States, because if it could I would have found them by now.

The story above is a satire or parody. It is entirely fictitious.

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