Since my colleague is boasting in class about knowing Arturo Pérez-Reverte I will dramatize here my encounter with Camilo José Cela. This happened a long time ago and that Emeritus Professor did not realize it was happening as he did not know I could understand as much Spanish as I could … or that, given that my bedroom shared a wall with the living room, I could hear a great deal of what happened in the living room after my bedtime.
Cela visited us and everyone knew it was a very big deal. Late at night, after the talk, after the dinner, after the children had gone to bed, after the cognac, I could hear, in Spanish, through the wall:
Camilo José Cela: [Emeritus, but then Assistant] Professor, ay David, it has been such a wonderful visit, everything has been so perfect, could you not, rather than drop me at my hotel, drop me in the barrio so that I can find a Spanish speaking whore?
Emeritus, but then Assistant Professor, ay David: Camilo José Cela, I cannot do that. You are not in Spain, you are in California; this is Mexican territory and you are bound to misinterpret it. You will approach a Mexican señorita, and her brother will appear and stab you to save her and the family honor. You will be stabbed, I tell you, stabbed, and I will be responsible. I have a family to support and I cannot afford the scandal you are preparing now. I am taking you to your hotel, I am sorry.
Camilo José Cela: Eres puritano, ay David.
This is why, when my colleague, friend of Arturo Pérez-Reverte, calls me a Puritan North American, I take it in good humor. Old Emeritus Professor, old artificer, stand me now in good stead.
Axé.
coldhearted scientist وداد 
Ah, yes, I have also been called puritana when I did not want to have sex with the speaker.
There was also that time El Goose’s American girlfriend wanted him to stop playing around and he complained that she was irritatingly conservative “como cualquier latina.”