... The sad part of it all was, my parents are Polish immigrants
The hot Polish tails which somehow avoided you needed time to find snorkels that fit. A cottage industry developed in the meantime (both in the city and in the suburbs) which altered over-the-counter snorkels to accommodate the substantial Polish nose.
So while you were frittering your affections away dabbling in the mud races, the Polish tails were being serviced with regularity. And now, with your atrophied spelling skills as your calling card, you lament the wasted years of your youth.
OK. The anorexia finally caught up with you and brought you to your senses. Now try northern Romania. The diet there is clean and the women hairy. This will help you rehabilitate. Then proceed north. Learn the Ukrainian language. Go in the summer. And bring your own snorkel and toothbrush.