THE MIND GETS YOU EVERY TIME
Joe is having a great time with Rocia and the senoritas in Ecuador - when...
Then, all of a sudden, the fun just stops as quickly as it started! It has nothing to do with Rocia or Ivan, or anyone else, for that matter.
It’s me. It’s my head.
The strangulating thoughts - they eventually always ruin my good time, man. For some reason that I’m not even sure about, I leave Banos and get back on the bus to Quito!
I know.
Riding the bus on the way, the side of my face pressed against the window, the gloomy, rainy weather outside - it all mirrors my own mood.
I gotta do things, man.
Yeah, I was having fun. Yeah, all the drinking, dancing and carousing helped invigorate me again.
But I’m 43.
I came down here to accomplish something, y’know? Maybe to help the indigenous down in the Amazon… but I didn’t even go down there - and I was in Banos! Like, what is holding me back!? Of course, I haven’t slept in a couple of nights now, my mind is in utter turmoil. I mean, at least, I should be exploring teaching English, I promised my parents that.
Then there’s the Rocia situation, I could tell she was falling for me, and to be honest, I was having feelings for her, too. But she’s 19. I’m 43. Y’know what I mean? Plus there were all these other young, cute seńoritas flirting with me, giving me their numbers… I don’t know. I mean, I do have my reservations. I don’t mean to sound like a jerkoff or anything - but getting involved with girls that young can be extremely dangerous.
First of all - they think all Americans are rich - no matter what. Like we all live on yachts and wear apricot scarves, and have diamonds on the soles of our shoes. Like we’re all Richard Gere in ‘Pretty Woman,’ or something, I mean, It’s just not reality, man. But you cannot convince them of that - no matter what you say.
Second, Ecuador is a majorly Catholic country, as is most of South America. They don’t really believe in condoms, definitely want marriage - and babies - lot’s of babies. They’re like baby machines! A traditional huge Catholic family. Then you gotta support all their relatives, too, including the aunt with ‘cancer’, the uncle with no legs…
Everybody.
So, for maybe, like, one year of sexual bliss with a beautiful caliente seńorita - you pay for it - with years and years of hard labor to support the ever growing cast of the lame, the halt, and the needy. Again, I don’t want to sound like a jerkoff - but what if they’re just playing you for a green card? Then they take off as soon as they get it? Unfortunately, it’s something to think about.
I must admit that all the attention is quite flattering, though, and it does get me pretty worked up, but…
In the States - this kind of stuff would be a major scandal, man! Except if the guy had a fortune - then, of course, it would be perfectly acceptable.
Still… this could be like my last chance, y’know?
Believe me, I’m pondering this incessantly over many sleepless nights - in rainy, foggy Quito. Maybe I’ll never get this kind of opportunity again!
It’s not like I was exactly American Gigolo in New York, either. Hey, I know I’m no catch of the year, or anything like that, but… c’mon.
The only chance I had to meet women in New York was either Omega Institute (this holistic center in upstate New York that I freeloaded at for many years) where the young girls all dressed like Fleetwood Mac legend Stevie Nicks.
Minus the talent.
And charisma.
However, they did attempt to practice witchcraft, at least.
Or… even more unpalatable, the catering /acting scene. Which is basically one and the same - because everybody in catering - is also an extremely frustrated/suicidal performer. These are the types of women who would pack up and leave you the day after you were diagnosed with pancreatic cancer, or something. Citing that they had to concentrate on their ‘careers’ - even though most would eventually become bitter alcoholic spinsters living in government assisted women’s housing.
