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People look to me as some kind of authority when it comes to their Cuban lovers – although I’ve only written once on the Cuban fidelity question and never directly about love, lust or the like.
One picture in particular is kept hidden on the very last page: my mother wrapped in linens, dark hair tousled, shoulders tan and bare, smile almost forced, still thick with sleep.
Beside the bed is a chair on which a white sheet lays crumpled and marked by a shock of red at the very center—a bulls-eye.
Here in Havana, the latter is real, prevalent, and extraordinarily complicated – if you think otherwise, you’re not paying attention.
Still, Those Faithful Cubans is one of my all-time most popular posts and people search daily for information on the issue as the above – actual search terms from the last week – illustrate.
Honestly, I do try to extend the benefit of the doubt in this regard, but one thing I’ve learned in my job as a health journalist here is to be experiential- and evidenced-based (see note 1).
When you hear the word ‘macho,’ the image that pops to mind is likely a hirsute brute in a wife beater, feet up on the coffee table, shouting kitchen-ward for another Coors and a nacho refill.
kam, i dont know where you got your info from, and i dont know what kind of hispanic men youve spoken to.... if youre female and youve gone out with "smalled dcked" hispanics then you might have your reasons why you say what you say..