Sex For Tacos

I met Jose on the beach of Puerto Vallarta. He was playing in the waves and everytime it knocked him over he would pop up from the water laughing. He had a great smile. He was small, a few inches shorter than me and probably 20 lbs lighter. Except for the height he was my ideal weight. But hey, I'm trying.

He looked 15, but insisted that he was 19. The "legal" age in Mexico is 18 but it seemed every young looking kid there was 19, not 18, not 20 always 19.

As I got up to leave, he followed me up the beach. He ran and caught up with me and told me his name, his age and that he was hungry and would do anything for some food. I bought him 2 tacos on the beach and went back to my hotel.

That night I saw Jose again at Frida's my favorite bar. He came up to me and offered me a sex act for food. I told him I'd buy him some food. Right there in the bar, he got on his knees and started to pull my pants down. "No, Jose get up" I demanded. I bent down and picked him back up. "No sex" I tell him. He starts to cry. "No, it's OK, I will get you food". He then smiled. I went out in the street and bought him some food. He ate the tacos and I told him to go home. He told me his parents had died and he had no home. He lived on the beach!

Every day I was there I'd make sure he had something to eat. On my last day, I'm sitting on the beach and a guy I'd never seen before comes running up to me and says my friend Jose needs me and to bring my towel. It seems a big wave had knocked him down and his oversized basket ball shorts had fallen off and disappeared in the tide.

I went into the water and wrapped the towel around him. He was crying. I took him up to the bars bathroom where he showered. I went and got his only possessions. A little plastic bag that had a shirt and jeans. He had no shoes.

I had brought 2 swimming suits and a pair of flip flops. I went back to my hotel and brought the extra suit a tshirt and my flip flops. I gave them to Jose.

I can't judge what Jose does or has to do to survive. But I can be grateful that for 4 days he could take a break. He didn't have to worry about food. I learned a lot from this little boy. He had absolutely nothing, yet he was happy, he could laugh, and he had friends. I think about the many times, I'm feeling blue and crying . I always joke that my life is pathetic. Then I usually put a LOL (Laugh Out Loud for those unfamiliar with the new talk) afterwards. But after meeting Jose I realize my life isn't pathetic, I'm pathetic. How dare me feel sorry for myself. We take a lot for granted, but in reality there's a lot more people in the world like Jose than there are like you and me.

Until Next Time - Wise OUT

Is It Cheating?

Last week I asked for no comments and I ended up with 5 comments, 6 emails, 2 phone calls and a visit in person. Just like gay.com the best hook up line is "not looking for a hook up". It's as if it's a challenge. You are guaranteed a hook up every time. I save this line for when I'm really desperate.

Speaking of desperate, I just recently returned from a trip to Puerto Vallarta. This is the annual Boyz Fest. Last year it was held in Palm Springs. I know there's prostitutes everywhere but it's so obvious in Mexico.

It's amazing how many old, fat, ugly guys go down there alone and within hours have a cute Mexican guy escorting them around the city, sometimes for weeks at a time. Not sure how much it costs but I'm not that desperate yet. Now maybe when I go down next year I will be that desperate. Then I'll really have interesting stories to blog about.

I wish I could write that I found the "love of my life" down there, but I can't. I did meet Oswaldo at Frida's (an old gay cantina bar) the first night. I was sitting at one end of the bar and he was at the other. We did the international gay eye contact thing (I wonder if Senator Craig knows this secret too?). He came over and started talking to me. He was originally from Guadalajara, but had moved to Puerto Vallarta about 5 years before. He was 35 and spoke good English, which is good since my 3 years of high school and 4 years of college Spanish suck. I can say una mas cerveza por favor y donde esta el banos?

We stayed at the bar talking until 2:30am and then he walked me back to the hotel. What a gentleman! He kissed me goodnight, then left. I thought that would be the last I would see him, but he showed up at the Blue Chairs on the beach the next afternoon. We spent a few hours on the beach, in the ocean and drinking mas cervezas. He then asked if I wanted to go back to his house, (casa).

His place was amazing, very beautiful, he had a swimming pool in his living room! We didn't talk about what he did for a living but he was out the night before and at the beach during the day. He actually bought the drinks at the bar and all the food and drinks on the beach too.
Anyway we got in his pool and started making out. One thing led to another and he pulled me out and took me to his bedroom. But then I stopped it. For some reason I had a feeling that I was cheating, which is totally bizarre. I'm single, and not even a hope of a date let alone a boy friend.

I apologized to him and got dressed. He was such a gentleman, he again escorted me back to the hotel. I saw him again a few times at the bar and the beach. He would buy me a beer but didn't try anything or ask me out again.

I've done things in my life that I'm ashamed of, and I've done things that I should be ashamed of but with Oswaldo no matter what would have happened it would not have been a shameful thing.

It's been a couple weeks since I've been back and I'm still confused about the cheating feeling. Wish there was a witty ending to this story, but there's not, just confusion.

Next time I blog about poverty or sex for food.

Until Next Time - Wise OUT.

What Price Happiness

Have you ever killed anyone? Or destroyed someone so bad that they have no reason to live? Well I have.

Everyone has a "coming out" story, and like I said in previous blogs, I'm not going to bore you with mine. But it seems that most "coming outs" produce consequences. Lives change. Sometimes younger guys are thrown out of their house and have to live on the streets. Sometimes families are accepting, some not. But one thing is common and true: It's never the same.

After I came out (or pushed out), my life actually changed for the better. I was finally comfortable with myself. I got my own place, found out I had a flair for decorating (I am gay, you know), and discovered who my real friends were.

But in the process I totally destroyed my oldest and best friend and mother of my two beautiful daughters. She of course blames me for her drinking, which I know isn't true. She had been drinking excessively for years before. I should have dealt with this problem before I left. It is now the responsibility for her kids to get her help.

She is correct, however, when she blames me for destroying and changing her life. She has always needed someone to take care of her. That was my job and I abandonded her. She now has to work this out, but she's not strong enough to do this on her own. She has family and friends to help her, but she's pushing them away.

I'm now questioning myself. Was it really worth the destruction of one human being so I could be happy? I think the price was too high.

Until Next Time - Wise - OUT