Posted by Whistler on January 16, 2001 at 19:11:33:
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`“Cuales son sus intensiones con me hija?” This is not the type of question that you would expect from the mother of a working TJ chica. I had spoken to her mother on the phone twice before. Both conversations were short and seemingly cold. I had already formed an image in my mind of the mother being very much like the mother in “Like Water for Chocolate”, tough, cold hearted, suspicious. I had called my amiga the night before. “Puedo hablar a Paula, por favor?”(Not her real name) “No! Esta infirma. Llamada mañana.” Click. The next night, I had to summon up a little courage to call my amiga. And, catering to my fears, the mother answered, not only with her cold manner, but with the mother of all questions, “ Su nombre es___?” “Si”. “What are your intentions with my daughter?” To say that I was taken aback is a huge understatement. I stuttered and stammered in my barely intermediate Spanish, first explaining that “Mi español no es muy bueno.” And then trying to tell her that I really had no intentions, other than being a true and honest friend to her daughter. She put the phone down, without comment. A minute later, Paula was there. How did it get to this point, where I am talking to chica’s mother, a thousand miles away? The short answer is that on her last two visits home, we have talked by phone, about twice a week. But, there is a longer answer. There is a story here. It is one that I want to write down for myself. Because in that phone call, my amiga told me the news that I had started to dread, and that I thought was not coming for a few months. She told me that she was able to close escrow on her new house (a thousand miles away). The last time she and I discussed it, she was hoping to close in the spring, work a couple of more months, and then retire. With this happy news, I knew that the timetable had been moved up several months. Now, she might be moving back home by the end of March. I tried to sound happy for her. But, my biggest fear was coming true. A few months ago, I had tried to break off the relationship because I feared the emotions that were developing. It was especially fearsome for me with a working chica, although I had learned to trust her. But, there was also the differences is culture, and the difference in age. But, we worked through it, mostly through her problem solving skills. At that time, I decided to take off the brakes and go for it, knowing that chances were, someday, I would pay the price. Now, I can almost feel the loneliness. Here is more of the story. As a happy monger, I had enjoyed the pleasures of TJ for about 1-½ years. AB was my regular hangout, but, for a change, I occasionally went to CC, Tropical, Miami, but always made it back to AB. It was comfortable. I was a regular, and treated everyone right. I was told by a couple of chicas, that all the chicas knew me and that I was considered a preferred client. Last year, I had read with some interest the Redsnake thread “To Favorita or not to Favorita” I remember not even seeing two sides to the question. With so many choices, why limit yourself? However, some of the posts were intriguing, and I found myself wondering what it would be like to really get to know one of these chicas. Now, I am almost full circle is the process of having a full on relationship with a TJ chica. But, the end is in sight. And even though I am at this moment feeling sad, I would not have missed this experience for anything. Considered in total, the experience has been one of the best adventures in my life, it has paid emotional dividends I never imagined, not to mention the education. 18 months of mongering is like kindergarten compared to the education of 9 months of involvement with a working chica. I have been to birthday parties, bachelor parties, weddings, funerals, baptisms, witnessed abortions, slept at my amigas apartment, seen her shave an amiga’s pussy, to name a few memories that stand out. But none of these experiences compare to the 6 month long experience of pealing away, one by one, the defensive layers around my amigas heart. It is like pealing the layers of an onion. Except, in the middle, it is pure gold. The Beginning Well, friends, let me tell you that without ever making a conscious decision to have a favorita, it can sneak up on you, and hook you, before you know it. I can only see things in retrospect. I did not see the telltale signs along the way, but see them clearly now. Here are some of the memorable key events. 1. My amiga greeted me by name for two months before we ever shared a beer, a dance, or, of course, arriba. She later told me that she had over heard other chicas talking about me (it was all-good) and she was trying to be friendly. After a few times of her using my name, I had to find out her name, and was proud to respond “Hola Paula” the next time I saw her. She slept for about an hour. My right arm also slept for about an hour. It was numb and just hung from my shoulder until the circulation returned. The Now She has been back from vacation for a week. I met her flight. I did not want to wait another day. We have spent two nights together this week. Both nights were physical, emotion filled experiences. Yes, she plans to work another 2-3 months to build a nest egg. She does not want our relationship to end. I can stay at her house as long as I want. However, the 1,000 miles will make quite a difference from the 90 miles that is now the distance between our casas. On our first night together this week, I could tell that she was excited to tell me something else. She would not say, but I would not give up. It was fun for both of us. I threatened a complete body search. She readily agreed. I thought I had found it when I found the 3-week-old bush in her jeans. She knew that I preferred a natural bush but she preferred a vertical mustache as a working chica. I never made a big deal about it. When I asked her “por que?” she said “Pensé que lo quisiera.” I did like it. This is one example of a string of thoughtful little things that have made this a great experience. But there were more little surprises that night. Responding to my question “Anything else new?” she reached in her purse and withdrew something that looked like a passport, but she clutched it to her breast. “Me excitan sobre esto.” Then she showed it to me. I reached for it. It was a passport, a new one, issued to her. She had applied for the passport when she was home in the summer and picked it up on her Xmas visit. She told me tourista priorities as Disneyland, Hollywood, Las Vegas, and San Francisco. “Will you take me?” She surprised me with her clearly stated question in English. “Como no. Con gusto” I said without giving it much thought. But the questions quickly started to form in my mind. How long would we be gone? Would she actually sleep at my house for a night or two? Would I then have pictures of her in my house, to go along with my TJ pictures? The questions are endless. This was the night of surprises. As we were preparing to go to sleep, she said “I want to read for a few minutes” “OK” I said, not knowing what was coming. She reached into her bag and withdrew a book. I could tell by the bookmark that she was almost half way through. As she lay back, opened the book, and started reading, I could see the title, “Conversacionales Ingleses.” The Future Quien sabe? She is moving home. I can’t give up my job and move 1,000 miles into Mexico. But, I’m not going to worry about it today, tomorrow, or next week. One of the great lessons I’ve learned from Mexicanas/Mexicanos is that life is too short to worry about things more than a day or two out in the future.
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