All-in-all, I spent my second time in Cuba soaking in the sun and reading novels as I waited for darkness to fall so that I could spend a couple hours conversing and dancing with Jorge. There is a little more to those interactions, stolen kisses on the cheek, hugs that lasted a bit too long - but I swear on my cigarettes *you all know how much I need those* that there was no making out or hooking up that ever occurred during this week. Why would I lie to you? I basically wrote this blog so I could probably reread what an idiot I was a couple years later - so I don't believe in fabricating things here. Promise.
Here's the thing about his hugs - I felt like I was in a deep pressure hugging machine. Has anyone ever tried to deflate a floatation device or an air mattress? I felt like he was doing that. I wish I could laugh out loud about this with someone in real life because what a bizarre way of hugging he had. But of course, I have not shared any details with anyone in my life, except for you. It wasn't like he was trying to cop a feel, it was more like he was trying to tell me how much he wanted to hug me? Through a hug? I still have not decided whether I like those hugs or whether I am wholly embarrassed that I seem to get myself into such awkward situations.
We also spent a lot of time hiding from other tourists and the management staff when we were talking or hugging, it could also be that he's hiding from his wife that also works on this resort. See, I am not so naive as to think he doesn't have one and that it is a very real possibility that she works on this resort. He denies having a wife or even children - although did divulge that a lot of Cuban men have kids but are not married. I mean, how can you work six days a week for 16 hours a day and not fall in love with a Cuban colleague? They live and breathe this resort as it is pretty much their home. If I were a Cuban resort worker I would so find a hot coworker and be with them.
Anyways, on my last evening there (I was leaving on the earliest flight the next morning) we talked a lot, played a game of rock paper scissors *I am a girl that talks about random things and suggest random things to do to fill the silence during a conversation* and hugged. I had an envelope with some money in it (50 CUC) and a pair of sunglasses that he always tried to "make a deal" with me for but I never committed to trading him for it cause I like those sunglasses too.
AHA! I feel you judging me again. Why did I get money and materialistic things involved? I think about that often, I have no idea why. He never asked me for money nor was it ever implied that it would end in a "tip" because ew I am not hiring him for his conversation and dancing lessons. But maybe it's the inferiority complex that I tried so hard to avoid but in the end caved because "he has less than we do back at home" and I felt like doing some charity. Even now as I type this, I feel ashamed but then a little happy? because however he sees it, 50 CUC means way more to him than it will ever mean to me. Yes I am an asshole tourist who now set the precedent and encouraged this vicious cycle of "tipping" and maybe even screwed a future tourist that he may eventually get to marry him because now he thinks all tourists are definitely ballers. I AM SORRY but what's done is done - would I do it again? Most likely. It's kind of like the bystander effect, but the opposite. Or maybe the better analogy would be something like littering - what's one little gum wrapper going to do in the grand scheme of saving the earth? But little by little, things like this snow ball. Hey. I never claimed to be making the right choices - clearly - but I know I will receive heat for this blog eventually so I am going to be a little apologetic but also a repeat offender to the same mistakes. Anyways, he asked me what it was in the envelope and was super pleased about the sunglasses (they were in reality just from a shoe store for $10 - I would never let go of my fancy schmancy sunglasses). I replied that it was tip from my family and I, and walked away after saying good night.
I never saw him again after that. Got on a plane and caught up on precious sleep. Woke up and I was back at home - THE DEPRESSION IS REAL part two...
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