Answer: They're both disastrous for my 'love life'.
80% of the foreigners leave town. And that 80%, unfortunately, seems to encompass 100% of the women that I fancy.
In 2003, I had spent 2 or 3 months vainly pursuing a strikingly pretty young Englishwoman who showed no sign of reciprocating my interest whatsoever (sound familiar?). I only finally admitted defeat when she fled the city in the early summer. Soon after, I found unexpected consolation in a very nice drunken smooch with a charming American I'd just met; it was a major bummer to discover that she was booked on a plane out a week later.
I quipped at the time that of all the strange catastrophes that have thwarted my romantic designs over the years, this was the first time that all the women I liked had simultaneously left town because of an impending epidemic. (Ah, but then I started getting 'previous life' flashbacks about that time in Minsk in the 1850s when I was just about to get it on with Shirley MacLaine - and the cholera struck!)
This Olympic summer has taken on a similarly deserted feel. Of my present 'Targets', A and B left some time ago, and C is leaving soon. I had recently added a Target D - but she got airborne about an hour ago.
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