I Want To Be A Gigolo

I recently spent a few weeks with my older sister – a software engineer living in Cabarete, Dominican Republic.

Since she’d just finished reading My Third-World Girlfriend, I was explaining to her the basis for the book, namely that many of the western men who travel to Thailand behave rather badly toward the young, poor women there.

She said it was the same in Cabarete, except she also saw a lot of wealthy western women flying there to take advantage of the young local men. I was a bit surprised by this. For some reason, I always assume women will behave better than men.

Then my sister described the situation more fully. She said the young men get to hang out at nice hotels, eat the best food, drink the best booze, and play on the beach all day. They even get extra spending money, like an allowance. And all they have to do for this is have sex, which is pretty much what they’d be spending most of their time trying to do anyway.

That’s when it dawned on me: I want to be a gigolo.

Actually, they’re not called gigolos in most parts of the world.  In the Dominican, they’re called “sanky pankys”.  In Jamaica, “rent-a-dreads” or “rent-a-rastas”.  In other parts of the Caribbean, they’re called, rather discretely, “The Foreign Service”.  In Greece, their nickname translates to “fishing harpoons”, and in places like Croatia and Bulgaria, they’re called “seagulls”, presumably because they hang around the beaches scrounging for a free meal.  Either that, or it has something to do with their beaks.

In my case, having reached my forties and incurred a lot of romantic damage along the way, I think I’ll call myself, “Rent-a-wreck”.  Not that appealing, I know, but, hey, there’s always someone looking to do things on the cheap.

Alternatively, I could fake a British accent and sell myself as “Poke-a-bloke”.  Or to ensure I’m called the same name both before and after, maybe I could go by the moniker, “Action Dissatisfaction”.

Actually, anytime you’re up against titles like “fishing harpoons” and “seagulls”, the name’s not the problem. The problem is, I love Jan, so if I’m going to be a gigolo, I’d really rather be her gigolo.

The challenge is getting her to pay for it.  I’ve tried, believe me. I’ve offered her deep discounts. I’ve given her the world’s longest free-trial period ever – well over a year and counting. I’ve even extended unlimited, no-interest, no-payments credit. Yet, all she ever does is smile sweetly, blow me a sexy kiss, and ask for another freebie.

What she doesn’t understand is that I can’t go on like this forever. No business can survive without some form of revenue. So wake up, Jan. Start patronizing me like I deserve. Otherwise, thirty or forty years from now, I might have to shutter my drawers.