As I write this post, I am currently in Cuba. Back in paradise and back are those strange feelings I thought I got rid of. There must be some sort of code for when a member of the staff has staked a claim on a tourist. I feel like I get avoided like the plague and when I am approached there is a cautious undertone and sometimes reference to having a "boyfriend", which is news to me because I never agreed to be anyone's girlfriend (except for Sam - sorry Sam).
This time already I just feel plain stupid and embarrassed most of the time. Having to constantly be waiting even when it is way past my bedtime, I couldn't have picked a better staff to ensure minimum sleep. Every night I have to pretend to have enthusiasm for the 'disco' , and I have such a low tolerance for alcohol that I am often super tired by the time he gets off work. It's great that I have my friend with me this time, but there's only so many hours I can convince her to stay without making it an inconvenience for her. Don't even mention the 430am walk in the dark back into my own room, that walk often causes me to tsk and shake my head at myself.
Still, I haven't sunk so low as to sleep with Jorge, I still value the sacredness of "making love" as Jorge keeps trying to convince me to do LOL. I like spending time with him, but mostly just to talk and cuddle, which is totally not what any dude wants especially since he didn't get any action. I tell him he shouldn't waste time with me cause he's clearly getting rejected every night...but he slowly takes things further, testing the boundaries, typical man.
But let me share the most surprising and quite sad thing I have discovered on this visit to Cuba. I finally got to see his "room" back stage behind the curtains. Getting to see a place usually off limits to tourist is exciting and unique (be it the circumstances are less than glamorous). I am appalled that he and his colleagues all sleep in quite disgusting conditions seeing that they work and live on the resort 6 days a week. You would think the resort would put a little more effort in giving their staff a more humane way to rest. A tattered, torn couch serves as a bed for two grown men. There are broken drawers used to store their personal belongings. The stench of old clothes, sour shoes and body odour is very unappealing (which might be a plus as it really deters me from engaging in any love making session). There are lockers spewing with random belongings. Hooks on the wall where there is clothes hanging all over the place. A small sink and mirror in the corner of the room as their (hopefully not toilet AND shower) washing up area. It is incredibly sad to see and also incredibly hard to pretend like it doesn't faze me. The only good thing is that the room actually has aircon, which I am sure is a welcome luxury when the summer heat hits after long hours by the pool/ocean for their shift.
What. The. Actual. Fuck. I know that I am accustomed to having things and living in places meant for comfort, but if the hotel understands that their hotel rooms must be clean and have actual beds, isn't it common human rights to be provided with a proper room...or at the very least a BED?! How can two men sleep on a small little couch together, even if they were very much in love...I doubt they can hug each other tight enough to make it comfortable.
I tried to take a nap with Jorge after finally convincing him to remove his hand from my boob (also because it reminded me of how Sam likes to sleep - boob cupping) and couldn't help but cringe as I lay my head down on the offensive smelling couch. I swear he fell asleep within seconds. Aside from occasionally suffering from being too obnoxious and controlling - he must always be exhausted if he can fall asleep with a complete stranger. Hasn't anyone ever told you there are psychos in this world? Jorge is so lucky that I did not try to kill him in his sleep. It's kinda cute, feeling him fall asleep and be unguarded and vulnerable. He twitches like no tomorrow though so everytime I attempt to close my eyes, his arms shake my body and his feet nudges on mine. Still, I find it endearing but ended up getting up to leave as I started to become allergic to the dusty air and became congested. I regretted leaving the moment I looked down the hallway back at him and waved. He was such a cute little thing in his underwear and half asleep but peering out his room at me.
I wonder how many girls before me have laid down on that couch and how many after? But strangely enough - I really don't care because whether I do care or not, it doesn't change the reality of who he is and what he wants/needs to do to survive. Of course, I still ask him out of curiosity and he asks me if I'm jealous. Often times I wonder if I do get jealous but I have never felt jealous of Jorge and his no doubt unlimited amount of women available to him as I do about Sam.
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