At a certain point in life, you realize life is about manners.  There’s a decorum.  Manners are important because they make others feel at ease.  If you’ve accomplished things in life (if you know what it’s like to really be a winner) you realize that the impetus is upon you to make others feel comfortable.  I learned this from Sandwich Guy.

Sandwich Guy doesn’t want sex from me all the time.  Sometimes he just drops by to pick up weed.  He’s a good ole party boy frat jock to the end.  Too bad he’s married to a prissy wife who doesn’t even know he smokes. 

But fucking I dig the dude.  So I dress up — I get real glammed and dolled up just for the weed transaction.  Because Sandwich Guy makes me want to pick up my game.  And you know what?  Sandwich Guy tips me almost 100 percent the cost of the weed.  For the fifteen minutes of my time it takes to hand the weed over.  That’s class.  That’s what makes me want to go the extra mile for him.  That says, I appreciate what you’re doing for me.

Now, contrast Sandwich Guy with Guido the Dweedo.  Guido first texted me a long time back, back when CraigsList still allowed for me to write creatively on their Erotic Services section.  I turned him on with my ad.  I tell a good story.  Pretty soon we were negotiating price, trading dirty text messages, and he’s sending me nonstop nude pics of his pectoral body.

And THEN. GUIDO. SAYS.

Oh Cassandra I don’t know how to tell you this.  It sounds so cold but you just ALRIGHT.  I get free tail everytime I go to Divas [a local T-Bar] and I’ve decided I’m not going to pay for you.  At the end of the day I’m hotter than you.

Ouch.  Wow.  I got sucker punched.  But I played it cool.  I tell him no sweat.  I tell him if he ever saw me at Divas we’ll have a drink.

Now the motherfucker won’t stop texting me.  I can’t believe Guido the Dweedo still expects that I’ll have sex with him.  I placed a sex-for-sale ad.  You know exactly what I’m selling.  And then you say you don’t think I’m worth paying for.  Now you’re telling me you don’t want to pay for sex, but I should give it to you for free.  

And you’re such a fucking dweeb you feel obliged, obligated, entitled to cut me down to get what you want.

My Mexican workers taught me a very valuable word when I owned a taqueria: basura.  Guido is basura.  Mucho. 

That was when I had my OMG moment: Guido thinks I’m a woman!  This is what these guys think of Crossdressers and TV’s and TG’s.  This is what they think of the female gender: we’re all dumb bitches. Fuck with their self-esteem, then toss them a few bones, and then they’re yours for the taking. 

What does this say about Women’s Lib?  Do women/TG’s really just want to be taken care of?  That we need a man to put us in our place?

I can see how full time TV’s & TG’s get fucked up mentally by these guys.  And women, especially.  These pricks really prey on insecurities.  I’ve thought about this a bit.  Guys who do this… who respond to prostitute ads and then play mindgames on the ho so she gives it up for free… 

These guys never made it.  They’re in their what?  Mid-to-late-thirties-forties?  And they still haven’t realized it. 

Guido still acts the asshole hood from his youth.  He thinks he’s a stud.  He never grew up.  He’s a screaming advertisement for guys who haven’t accomplished much in life. 

It’s sad but true.  Like men who wear suits on the weekends.  They work retail.

Oh my god I am so shallow.

I learn a lot from my customers.  I read you guys.  I see who’s got potential.  Who’s in on the secret.  Who’s smart. 

Who’s actually made it.

Tags: culture