Put Your Hand In My Piscado And Pull Out Some Money

That was the running joke of the trip that I just went on. The title was going to be, ‘Take me to Mexico? Bitch, I’ll take you to Mexico!’ I have a pretty strong independent streak. In Spanish piscado means fish, and I have a little fish purse that I took on my trip with me. Early April I had my best weekend yet and the money was burning a whole in my pocket. Even before this, I had discovered that Jake and I have the same dream vacation (of course) which would be to go way up north and watch the aurora borealis. He added the nice twist of watching them whilst on ‘srooms. When I said “Lets do it then, I can make this happen” He was not down for that. Jake likes to be a gentleman, and having a sugga momma would not fly with him. Alex on the other hand, he’s a lady! I was telling him about what Jake (mutual friend) said and I asked him, “Would you go on a trip with me?” and he said “Mmmm… Yes” So we looked at all the flights going everywhere in the world and booked Puerta Vallarta! It was surreal. Is this actually happening? Before the flight I gave him cash so that he didn’t have to ever ask for money, but in the end we just had a communal wallet, or piscado in our case, in which we just pulled money from when ever we needed. It may have been the best trip of my life, but that’s hard to say because every trip I go on is so different. This was non-stop party, and Alex is the best travel companion I could imagine. 

Puerta Vallarta is very gay friendly and they have a whole gay neighbourhood in Old Puerta Vallarta, where we spent most of our time. We did gay pub crawls, gay booze cruises, and took in drag shows. Gay is sex, and sex was everywhere. There were go-go dancers at every venue, and I was constantly giving them money to entertain Alex. It was such a strange dichotomy. I will admit I found them teasing Alex highly amusing, as did he, but for 50 pesos, Alex could give them a hand job. That’s roughly $5 CAD/USD. I’m having a hard time resolving that with myself. It’s just so fucked up. I would never be able to do what they do either. Gender aside. They are entertaining all the boys. I’m not saying they’re fucking all of them, but on the booze cruise, there was a 1:10 ratio dancers to boys, and they were making all the guys feel like they had a chance with them.

Well… except for one. Mario, Mario, where for art thy Mario… My Gawd, he was so hot! Listen, I know the sex trade industry, and it baffles me when my clients think that I actually like them. (and I’m not saying I dislike my clients, but I don’t dis/like them any more than any of the clients I had at a hotel… it’s the service industry, team) But Mario knew he wasn’t getting any money from me, and he made it clear that he just wanted me*. I kinda blew his gay cover and probably his tips for the day. Oh man! Anyway got of topic there, he’s rather distracting. What I’m trying to get at is I couldn’t do his job. I couldn’t share my energy like that with so many people at once. And it’s not an emotional ‘couldn’t’, it’s a technical, tangible ‘couldn’t’, I just wouldn’t know how to do it. And I think if I did, it would be then I would feel whorish. As I write this, I think about the technical, tangible aspects of it, and maybe I would like it… but not with men. They are so vulgar, so grabby, but with women… lol… mmm, maybe. They’re more sensual and rubby, lol. I still don’t know though. There was a guy on the boat and he was joking about how he would tip his prostitutes 20 pesos. At this point I was assuming (and I’m still hoping) prostitutes cost more than 50 pesos. Alex put his hand on my arm, as if to say, “Take it easy… don’t kill the little fag” Oh man, I hated that guy, and he loved Alex. Every time I turned around he was there. The whole trip. I wanted to hold his head under the water. Not for too long, just for a bit of fun though. If a guy thinks he can treat me like that on the job, I warn him once, then I walk away. With his money.

So, all that being said, lets bring gender back into the picture. It seemed that all of these gay male go-go dancers were actually straight. And I think that sucks even more. I talked to Mario about it a bit. I asked him if he was bi. He’s like, “mmm, I don’t know.” Simple way to the bottom of that. “Do you get turned on by men?” I ask. He has this pensive look in his eyes and it makes me a little sad. Like he’s trying to justify it, “Well, when guys rub me I’ll get hard, any kinda friction can get a guy hard. I can do my job, but no, I’m not turned on.” This is why I hate the sex trade industry. People who don’t want to do it shouldn’t have to do it. There’s so much bad in it. But then again, I compare this to other jobs in the service industry. Like I said before, there were times I felt so dirty being nice to the complete pricks who thought they could abuse me because I worked behind a counter. So many times I’ve had to swallow my tongue. I had to pay my bills. And the same with Mario. When he left my hotel room (yeah, I went there) I saw what he was wearing. From his clothes it looked like he was able to pay his bills just fine. He also worked as a dancer at one of the gay night clubs too. I told Mario that we have similar jobs, but I never actually told him what I do. I really wanted to talk to him though. I think it would have been a really interesting discussion. I rarely work with my co-workers, and when I do, it’s (obviously) on a really shallow superficial level. I don’t really have a peer that I can discuss these things with. I really find it so fascinating other peoples perspectives.

I don’t know. It’s all so weird. So many layers. So many different aspects to it all. So many opportunities for abuse and exploitation. It’s hard to wrap your head around it. 

Please comment and let me know what you think. So far there haven’t been any comments, and a friend told me she was unable to comment. If you try and can’t, email me at alisonsblog2032@gmail.com and I will post it for you. And don’t forget to tell me which blog it’s in reference to.

*I re-read that sentence and laugh at my own hypocrisy. Right, realhim wanted realme. Sure. It wasn’t that it was just his job to make me feel like that, or he was just desperate for some sort of release after hours of having a half chub. There were other guys on the boat that showed their attraction to me (me being the only female on the boat), and I just dismiss it. Like it doesn’t count, or they don’t know that I’m actually not that attractive, or they’re just being nice. Do girls who are actually beautiful get told they’re beautiful all the time? In my mind they don’t, people would be too shy. That’s how I’m able to dismiss my compliments. Maybe I have ugly duckling syndrome. Even into my early 20’s I had no sense of style, had no idea what to do with my ridiculous frizzy hair (hello, I’d like to introduce you to a hair straightener!) never wore make up, and I never fit in at school. Even in college I was a bit of a leper. So I still kinda see myself as that girl. I want to say, if they could only see me now! Well they would see a prostitute, but that’s not my point! Do I make any sense at all?

Joke of the Post: We made several good friends in Mexico, and I didn't voluntarily tell people what I did for a living, but if it came up in convo, or if someone asked I would tell them. Who cares, we're in Mexico. But the funny thing is I was less afraid of people judging me for the job and more afraid of people judging me for the package. I think I wore make up once, and Alex was constantly joking that a squirrel lived in my hair, it was such a curly mess. I certainly wasn't looking my best down there, but I clean up good, ok?! And in all honesty, everyone I told thought it was really cool. I know that not everyone has these views, which is why I'm guarded about it. However, I do think the people I gravitate to, and who gravitate to me are awesome.