The other night I was talking to a good girlfriend of mine who’s niche is to piss me off with her attitude and this time around she kept asking me about my, umm… “extra-curricular activity.” She’s the type who takes my cell phone away from me and checks both my dialed and missed calls, as well as my text message Inbox AND Outbox to see what I’ve been up to; before you take out the “PSYCHO” card, I don’t really mind it much anymore since I know it’s coming, so I might as well not try to stop it… before we’d get into fights just because I wanted my cell phone back and she wouldn’t give it back to me and I’d think: “what in the hell does she get out of reading my messages?”

I can be naive like that.

Now, before you “WTF” me, I have to tell you something very crucial to this story: I live in Panama. Panama, the country in Central America, not Panama City in Florida. The Panama Canal? Yeah… so, since I’m in Panama, which is in many ways it’s own Miami hybrid but without the open-mindedness (?) I’m stuck with crazy women. Well, they’re not crazy… they just don’t understand what I’m trying to do here in regards to women.

It might be conceivable to you, I bet: you like a girl, you go talk to the girl, you take her home or she takes you, yadda yadda yadda and either go your separate ways or exchange phone numbers to hook up later. Maybe you have a hot friend, a cute one even that you’ve always wanted to hook up with. What do you do? Yes, you talk to her, set the record straight and take it from there. That said, I was trying to explain this very simple concept to this girl, who I’ll call “Miss Tease,” (***SPOILER ALERT!*** Alright, bitches. To set the record straight and stop the rumor mill this post started in my little hicktown of a city, as well as take off some not-needed grief to other good friends of mine, I’ve talked to MissTease and she’s agreed to disclose her full name and the like. Her name is María Camargo, 22, studying Business Administration and Finance first at the Ulacex, now currently in Argentina for a vacation with her girlfriends. She’s a brunette, her hair’s a cute Anne Heche type of short, big expressive eyes and an SPECTACULAR ass. Her ex-boyfriend’s one Eric something or other. We don’t talk anymore because he’s a dick who likes to be the center of the universe and is childish, to boot. Current one? I don’t know, and I don’t care. Now that THAT is settled, compromising the identity of someone more dear to me than any of the people orchestrating this rumor mill OR the people indirectly involved in it, back the fuck off and leave my poor girlfriends alone. ***SPOILER ALERT***) for a good 45 minutes and she was starting to grasp it THEN. Needless to say, she started dropping names and asking me if I had slept witht hem or not with the same giddyness a childs looks at her daddy when asking him to tell that awesome bedtime story for the gazillionth time. I don’t kiss and tell… I let people assume whatever they want. If the girls I’ve been involved with them then that’s their prerrogative, but I don’t go about showing off my conquests. Sounds terribly un-macho of me, I guess, but I like it that way. So needless to say I kept dodging bullets while in the back of my head I kept telling myself “what in the holy HELL are you doing? You don’t have anything to hide…” and that’s when the second bylaw of my predicament came before me.

Panama is SMALL. And socially in the stone age, when it comes to these things… don’t get me wrong, I wouldn’t trade my country for anything else in the world, but if you ever have a chance to come here and go to a club, you’ll notice that instead of everyone minglig and dancing with each other, there are small groups of friends, all of them who know each other, having their own mini-parties. No one ever mingles with other groups. Let alone dance… it’s rare as hell, and personally I stopped trying to talk to girls I wanted to meet and dance with at clubs they give me a “what the hell are you doing?” face and brush me off most of the time. Yes… it DOES suck. Ass. Now, what does this have to do with me dodging bullets from Miss Tease? Since Panama is small, everyone talks. It’s like a really big high school. I don’t care if someone wants to know who I sleep with or not, but what I do care about is someone running their mouth and making shit up.

Yes, I live in a high school country.

This is terribly frustrating, and it’s why I stand out like a sore thumb most of the time. My lack or restraint, my umm forward thinking and open-mindedness (?) crashes with a lot of the social zeitgeist and well, as a result creates women who can’t fuck for the sake of fucking. Women who can’t take it easy and have to create drama for themselves, and dragging me along for the ride because here it doesn’t matter how up front and crystal clear you are about things they’ll almost always come up with a way to twist them. So, what do I do? Don’t take it seriously. That causes even more drama, which makes it funnier for me, and it creates a vicious cycle of laugh-indusing drama.

A couple of days passed and when I talked to Miss Tease, she turned up with a boyfriend. Yes, like that’ll last. Maybe that’s my wishful thinking, and rightfully so. But she’s the type that always has a very funny story to tell me so it’s all in good fun… maybe next time.

In all honesty, drama is something I don’t want, yet it entertains me. It’s fun, and I can see why some people would want to consumate themselves in it but I don’t play the game like that… most people here do, though. Talk to a Panamenian girl and they already think you wanna bed them (guys are maily guilty of this too, since a lot of them have pretty much that agenda). Kinda makes me wish I lived in Canada.

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