Posted by Matiz on October 31, 2000 at 11:35:11:
In Reply to: "Bienvenidos al Lado Oscuro..." (Welcome to the Dark Side) posted by RickFeliz on October 31, 2000 at 05:08:29:
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RF: We see (or remember) these chicas frozen in time--a moment of debauchery or good cheer that we will always remember fondly. We hope that the ladies will always stay young, beautiful, unspoiled, so that our memories won't be shattered, but deep down, we know that isn't possible. But as you've pointed out, reality is a much more brutally honest mirror than our memories. These chicas age, they make bad life choices, they get cought up with drugs, they have children, they gain wait, develop wrinkles, get beaten by abusive novios. It's a tough occupation for the youngest and brightest ones, but it's positively brutal when the chicas begin to age. I also have a tale about a Patricia, this one from DF. She was my first chica in TJ, in 1989. Young, slim, friendly, fresh-faced, and with a very sweet, accommodating disposition for a street girl. Worked on Articulo 123 near Revolucion. Every time I came to TJ I always had to have a session with Patricia. Then she just disappeared in 1991 without a trace. I never saw her again. Then, last year I was walking down First street and I saw a woman that looked like I imagined Patricia would look many years later: twenty pounds or more heavier, puffy face, tired-looking eyes, long hair cut short. When I asked her name, she said Patricia, just arrived from DF. I was almost sure it was her, so, out of curiosity and "for old time's sake", I took her to the room, where a strange thing happened. Suddenly, long-forgotten images of her skin, the almost pelt-like hair on her panocha, her body, her sexual technique re-surfaced. It was her. Afterward, I told her I used to know a Patricia that worked on Art. 123 but who left in 1991. I explained how much I used to enjoy sessions with her. As I talked, she slowly began to smile, and finally said, demurely, "Es yo." (It's me.) She had tried to shake the profession, had a couple of kids, tried to raise them, and was back now, older, sadder, tireder, to make some money to support them. There were no jobs for her in DF. It's not the way I would write anyone's life story. I would have written that she met a rich, retired matador, who swept her away to his mountain villa and there they lived happily ever after in splendor. I certainly wouldn't have put her back on the streets of TJ in her thirties, fucking guys for $15. So I preserve my wonderful memories of her youthful body and vigor by having a session with her every time I go to TJ. Her slim waist has given way to a somewhat large gut now, her cheeks have jowls, and her eyes have shadows underneath them. But she is still kind, sensitive, and expressive. And sometimes now, for a few fleeting moments during sex, time seems to peel away the dusty layers from both of us. It is 1989 again, and she is young and vibrant, with her whole future ahead of her. I am not yet to middle age, still athletic, not yet so cynical. In that timeless moment, we forget who we are and who we've become, and just let the passion carry us like a wave. Call it my penance. Or call it crazy. Sometimes, that's just what you have to do to save the memories. Matiz
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