I've just read over all of my posts from the beginning, and I suggest, if you're a newcomer or you've missed any, that you do the same. This is a narrative. For today to make complete sense, or have the most impact, you need to know about yesterday and the day before.
It turns out that the old gringo is married. Thirty years to the same woman. "Longer than I've been alive," I told him. His skin crinkles up around his eyes when he smiles. "I used to narrow my eyes on purpose," he said, "to try to look more like Roy Rogers." He showed no surprise when I knew who that was. Nor when I told him I liked Auster and Fuentes. I guess he figures a dumb gringa wouldn't be here in the first place. We talked for a while about putting yourself as a character in your own novel, or at least a character with your name. He said he normally hated postmodern techniques, but he didn't mind the way Auster used that one. I told him he sounded awfully old-fashioned, and he laughed.
He knows nothing about me, but I know he's curious. He's old-fashioned in that way too. It would be impolite, he thinks, to ask too many questions. I like that. We spent nearly a whole hour this morning not talking about ourselves. Horacio learned that he was married and for how long from the woman who runs the cafe. He wears a gold band. No other jewelry. Not even a watch. And I've never seen him wear anything but blue jeans and a black or blue polo shirt. We did talk about food. Enough so that when the time is right I can invite him to dinner. With Horacio and his family around that should be safe enough.
Having someone to talk to made me think of the Latte, my favorite coffee shop in Second Life. It was the first popular place I found in Second Life that wasn't either a sex site or a dance club, and I got attached to it quickly. I could sit outside for an hour or so and tidy up my inventory, and if someone came along who wanted to talk, that was fine. If not, that was fine too. I didn't really look for business, but some came along anyway. Guys would look at my profile and start asking questions, and before I knew it I'd sold a few pictures, and then, what's a girl to do, one thing might lead to another. I never pushed in those places. In fact, I sometimes acted like I was off duty, or busy, but that never deters a real prospect. More often than not it spurs them on. Playing hard to get, I found, works just as well for a whore as anyone else.
But on the whole the Latte was part of my effort to normalize my second life. I liked the old setting, which is no longer there. It was like a quaint New England village, complete with a book store, an art gallery, a comfortable little bar, and a quiet street with old houses. No one went to any of those places, of course, but me, and they changed it, I'm guessing, to put up townhouses for rent, which actually looked pretty nice, but it wasn't the same and I was disappointed. That's a sad fact of Second Life as I experienced it. If there's no sex or conversation, no matter how beautiful you make a place, with only rare exceptions, no one is going to show up. There may be a whole other side I didn't see. If so, I'd be interested in hearing about it. I know that you could find almost anything you searched for, but more often than not, no one else was there. Which wasn't all bad, of course.
I sort of took the day off today. Too much me and doom and gloom. I was ready for a break. I don't know what I'll be in the mood for tomorrow. Maybe I'll start my rags to riches story. How I went from clueless newbie to seasoned prostitute in just a few short months. We'll see.
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