Why do they call it mens?

And don’t you dare call a spade a spade, RACIST!

So, about that lunch “date” yesterday. I’m using the word date, although there were not any romantic implications to the meet-up. Maria, like many other folks, has been really struggling financially. Her salary and workhours were reduced so she’s only bringing home 600 pesos ($12.) a week. That’s enough to eat but there’s nothing left over to pay the rent. I told her I’d be willing to help her out with her needs if she would help with mine. She agreed, so I arranged for us to meet up at Sit-n-Bull for lunch prior to taking care of business.

It had been a while since I’ve had Mexican food, so I ordered up a chicken enchilada. Maria opted for a quesadilla, but I had to school her on the proper pronunciation–dee-ah not dill-ah. The enchilada was mediocre and served lukewarm. I was reminded of why I don’t eat much Mexican these days–lots of places offer it, few make it well. Anyway, I was looking forward to dessert at my house!

But here’s the thing. After thinking about the arrangement I wasn’t really comfortable with the implications. Maria is, I think, a good woman in desperate circumstances. I didn’t like the feeling that I was taking advantage of that fact. The other thing is, I really don’t like paying for sex; it is so much more pleasurable when both parties are enthusiastic participants. Or at least freely willing. So I decided to give Maria the money upfront rather than after the act. Her rent was taken care of so it would be a matter of if, and how, she might express her gratitude. I think that there is s subtle difference there, at least in my mind.

So, I slipped Maria the money and invited her to join me on the ten-minute walk to my house. She agreed. We sat at the kitchen table and chatted a bit then I said “let’s go upstairs to the bedroom.” She asked “why”, almost as if we hadn’t made a prior arrangement. I responded, “let’s see what happens”. She somewhat reluctantly followed me up the stairs. Honestly, I was okay either way–she had her rent money, and if that’s all she came for, fine. There wouldn’t be a next time. On the other hand, if she was willing to provide some satisfaction as a way of saying thanks, perhaps she wouldn’t have to worry about next month’s rent.

I laid down on the bed, she went into the bathroom. I heard her mutter something unintelligible, then she cracked the door and asked me to bring her her purse from downstairs. After I retrieved it, she told me she had started her mens and I could see the blood in the toilet if I didn’t believe her. Yuck! No, that won’t be necessary! She took a pad from her purse, went back inside the bathroom, and when she came out she laid down next to me on the bed. She apologized and I said she had nothing to be sorry about. We snuggled some and had a nice little chat. She told me she had never gone with a man for money before. I explained that this was more of a “friends with benefits” situation. We were simply taking care of each other’s needs. She seemed to like that concept and promised me we could get together again in a few days. We’ll see.

I walked her to the street, gave her trike fare, and said goodbye.

I don’t know, but I don’t care. I guess that makes me ignorant and apathetic.

Took a nap then hoofed it over to Mango’s.

Had a roast chicken salad for dinner…
…and a nice sunset for dessert.

Today is Hash Monday. Guenter is the Hare. He posted that the Hares will escort the Hashers to the trailhead at 2:30. He also said that he had added another kilometer and another climb to satisfy some folks making the trip from Angeles City. I responded that I am old and slow and wanted to start early, where does the trail begin? He responded that it begins at 2:30 at VFW with the Hare escort. It took all the restraint I had to not respond fuck you and fuck that on the group page. But I’ll say it here–fuck you and fuck that. I’ll do my own trail, asshole. Scott is going to scout around to see if we might be able to locate the trail on our own. Either way, I’m departing the VFW at 2:00 p.m. I’ll go when and where I want and I certainly don’t need anyone’s permission to do so. If I sound a bit angry about this chickenshit power trip the Hare seems to want to impose, it is only because I am.

Oh, well. It’s all good. Look for a full report tomorrow.

9 thoughts on “Why do they call it mens?

  1. So much trouble for a bit of fun. Too bad you can’t just find a nice young lady who understands give and take; both can get what is needed.

  2. Well, I could do P4P thing that some bars offer, but I just don’t find the professional girls to be very enjoyable. I like the concept of “charity in exchange for charity” much better. Now, if I could only make it work! 🙂

  3. Plenty of Filipinos spoke Spanish back in the day. If a Yank is now teaching a Filipina proper Spanish pronunciation, that’s an indicator of how much the times have changed.

  4. Honestly, I’ve been surprised at just how little Spanish culture remains here after centuries of colonization. Yes, the city names, a handful of old structures, and not much else. As for the language, well, Tagalog has its roots in Spanish, but I’ve yet to meet a local who speaks actual Spanish. In fact, some of the gals understand my Korean better than my Spanish. They watch a lot of K-dramas in these parts…

  5. Oh, yeah: as for “mens,” you probably know the answer: it’s from the Latin mensis (plural menses), meaning “month” or “monthly.”

  6. Yeah, but you need to wake up if you think using a gendered term like “mens” is appropriate in this day and age. Origins of the word and its meaning are irrelevant. Get woke or get canceled, your choice!

    (wow, I CAN do crazy!)

  7. What is your impression of the cleanliness of the professional girls, are they riskier than the average hookup?

  8. What about CRACKERS? Every time I go down the CRACKER aisle at the grocery store I am extremely offended. Thinking about protesting the local grocery store. Can we cancel CRACKERS? Peace Out!

  9. QP, I don’t think there is much difference in cleanliness and risks associated with working girls versus the non-pros. The bargirls do get a required weekly health check, so there is that I suppose. Still, I think it comes down to the luck of the draw. And I’ve been lucky so far!

    Soju: And what about that restaurant chain catering to white folks–Cracker Barrel. Will the insults ever end?

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