Sweet charity

[October 20th, 2004, Buenos Aires]

- I am late to see La Traviatta - Tiago was getting impatient on the phone. Open my email and see if there is anything urgent. And if there are questions about my services just send that small paragraph that explains everything.
- Yes sir. If the lady calls, what should I say to her?
- Tell her her husband went to the Opera with one of his clients. She better have my food ready when I get home.
- Yes sir.
- Stop saying sir to me, you fag. That "secretary in a miniskirt taking notes on my lap" fantasy of yours is annoying me.
- Then hire a real secretary in a miniskirt to answer your email. Also: buy your own computer.
- Be a good boy. I have to go now, we'll chat later.

The same emails as always: how much is a massage, please explain what it means to get a massage with "relax", the price is in pesos or dollars? Among the stack of male nicknames - the hunks, the studs and the machos - there is one that stands out: "Silvia, questions about your service".

Hello,
My name is Silvia. I saw your webpage on the internet and I would like to ask you for an appointment to get a massage and something more. But first I wanted to know how much it costs and if you would see someone that weighs 290 lbs, a lot of people don't want to be in bed with someone that is this obese. Depending on your answer, I will ask for an appointment or not. Thanks for your consideration and I'll be waiting for an answer. I would like to add that I am not a monster and I am doing this because I do not want to have any commitments, but I need someone to be sweet with me.
Kisses,
Silvia

I spent the whole day trying to digest that email. Im not 290 lbs but I am fat. I posted pictures of me on the internet that are 3 years old, my brief hollywood period, when I was 30 lbs lighter. When I describe myself in the chatrooms I use the word "rugbier", and if they want details, "stocky" and if they point a gun at me I admit that "I have a bit of a belly, but I am not fat AT ALL".

I still remember that night when I fell from the sky, like Icarus. I was dancing at a club and some kind of muscled Adonis, drunk and clumsy, approached me and started to kiss me. We went to a cheap motel around the corner, we fucked and we talked, in that order. He wanted to know why I was avoiding his stares all night. I said I didn't know, but I knew: I thought the guy - with his muscles, his blue eyes and his cute shaved head, and wrapped in the centripetal looks of half of the crowd - was staring at someone else. He put his hands behind his head, flexed his biceps and launched the missile, unaware of the casualties: "Since I saw you I was after you... it was so obvious, I stared at you for 2 hours. I love little bears".

Yogui bear. Panda bear. Bear. Little bear.

I wanted to correct the misunderstanding, the big mistake in his taxonomy: I'm not all that hairy. I am not part of any association, I rarely eat honey. This butterfly was being pinned in the wrong page of the album. Of course I understand the confusion, but it has to be a mistake... bear? Myself? What about some other animal? I'm a dog in the chinese horoscope, I'm faithful and woof woof, and beware of me, and I shake my tail and I will pee on your plants if you don't pay attention.

But I didn't say anything and it got worse, because he understood my silence as an invitation to autobiographical and zoological remarks. My previous boyfriend was just like you, a little bear, he added. He said little bear every 8 seconds or at least that's how it felt. When he tried to lean his head on my shoulder I jumped out of bed and said I wanted to take a shower. I then spent 10 minutes soaping myself and looking at myself in the smokey mirror, feeling as one of those animals in an egyptian vase, half bear, half human.

- So, any urgent email? - the next day Tiago is on the phone again.
- No, not really. Well, a woman sent an email asking about your services.
- Did you answer with that paragraph I gave you?
- Yes, but I felt so bad for her... I was thinking all day about her, I can't get her out of my mind...
- You felt bad about what?
- She's a little overweight, she's 290. Very sweet.
- What? I can't hear well, give me a minute, I'll come out of the store. How much does she weigh?
- 290.
- Forget about it. Tell her I'll give her a massage, that she got it wrong, that I only give massages.
- Don't be so mean, poor woman, I feel so bad...
- Then you fuck her. That's even better, I have too much work, I'm overbooked already.
- You behave like that, you'll go to hell...
- I am not the Red Cross.
- I noticed, believe me. What's the big deal?
- Don't you get it, are you that stupid? I can't get it hard, it's happened to me with guys that show up by surprise and they are in very bad condition... I have to say I only give massages. There are some that I can't fuck even using Viagra and even though I'm a professional.
- A professional would see this woman... Tiago, seriously, can you imagine feeling that noone in the entire world wants to fuck you? Nobody... not one in the zillions of stupid perverts in the galaxy.
- I told you: you fuck her.
- She saw your page, not mine. She got all excited about it, she wants to be fucked by the same male prostitute that fucks everyone else... don't you get it? She doesn't want me, some random guy...
- I understand perfectly, you don't. I'm a prostitute, not a wind-up toy. And this conversation is over, you are pissing me off.
- Don't be so fucking stubborn. You've fucked ugly guys that you didn't like at all before...
- Stop trying to mind fuck me. You are also a bottom in that regard...
- I am not trying to manipulate you... I just feel bad, I was all day thinking about her...
- That just means you have a lot of free time... Ugly or fat women get married so someone is forced to fuck them. That's how it works. I am not married to anyone, I don't have to fuck anyone I don't want to fuck... so we are done with this topic. Send an email telling her how much is a massage session.
- I won't send any email, you do it yourself.
- You are so stubborn and childish, Jesus.
- Let's talk later, I have to go get my laundry.
- You just don't get that what I do is just a job? You just refuse to...
- I gotta go. Bye.
- Whatever. Bye.

We never talked about Silvia again, even though I couldn't forget that email for a week. Each time Tiago tried to bring up the topic or explain anything to me, I told him I didn't want to talk about it.

A week later he was again on the phone asking me to look for something in his email.

- I need the address of that furniture store, it's somewhere in the sent folder... just do a search on "sofa".
- Here it is, write it down.

I gave him the address and he hung up. At the bottom of the page, 50 emails before, an email topic got my attention: "Re: Silvia, questions about your service".

HELLO SILVIA

I AM SORRY THAT I DIDNT RESPOND TO YOUR EMAIL EARLIER. IT WAS AT THE BOTTOM OF THE LIST AND I JUST SAW IT. I APOLLOGIZE FOR THAT.

I DONT HAVE ANY PROBLEMS SEEING YOU AND I DONT HAVE ANY PROBLEMS WITH PEOPLE THAT ARE NOT THIN. EVERYTHING IS OKAY, I AM VERY GENTLE IN BED, WE ARE GOING TO HAVE A GREAT TIME. I WAS MARRIED FOR FIVE YEARS AND I KNOW HOW TO PLEASE A WOMAN.

THE SERVICE INCLUDES A FULL BODY MASSAGE, KISSES, HUGS, TOUCHING, CARESSING, FOREPLAY AND PENETRATION.

HUGS AND KISSES,
TIAGO