The rain is coming down outside this window, me sitting in another internet cafe in Oaxaca, probably for one of the last times, me leaving this town sometime tomorrow evening after Bonnie´s final dentist visit and heading off toward Puerto Escondido on a late night bus.
It is a common sight here to see women carrying stuff on their head, a big bag of groceries or a big plate of food for sale.
I went to the other all-male bathhouse in this town yesterday, Banos La Fuente, and it was a lot nicer than Banos del Jardin, two clean steamrooms that both got really hot, one infused with the scent of eucalyptus. There were lots of sexy naked guys at this one also. The problem however was that this place was sex-free. A couple of people would sometimes not so discreetly check out my junk, but aside from that nothing occured and everyone just bathed and sat in the steamrooms. It was a very sexually frustrating experience, as I had gone there for the express purpose of getting off, having been interrupted earlier in the day by Bonnie and Caroline returning to the hotel while I was jerking off. Sitting next to this painfully attractive young male, thick arms, hairy legs, dark, dark hair, and wanting for all the world to touch him - the steam and its heat at least exhausted me, preventing me from perhaps getting too excited, too full of desire. It felt a lot like high school in some ways, to be surrounded by so much flesh, to want to touch it so badly, and to be unable to do so.
I got really drunk on mezcal with Bonnie and Caroline later in the evening at a couple of bars, one a karoake one where I sang backup on an Avril Lavigne song. I seperated from the two of them and went to the other gay bar in town again, El Numero, hoping it would be more crowded this time. It certainly was. It was totally packed with lots of attractive young things. It was a really surprising scene, given the otherwise quietness of this town, to be in such a packed bar full of dancing fags. I made some friends pretty quickly, this cute boy asking me to dance with him and his friends, and I did and talked to them in the small spurts of Spanish that I was able to muster. I talked to, or tried to talk to, a bunch of other people throughout the night, getting lots of attention in this bar, the attention feeling both good in some ways and also weird, that it was because I was other, a tourist, not Mexican, that seemed to be part of my appeal.
I left the bar to go to bed, not thinking I would be able to talk enough Spanish to get someone to take me home with them, also thinking that lots of these people wouldn´t be able to take me home, that they either lived far away or with their families. And so walking away from the bar, this boy called after me. I walked back and chatted with him and he told me to come inside again and dance with him. I did. That turned into making out and dry humping as we danced, him putting my hands down the back of his pants. He told me he was ready to leave whenever. I explained that I was staying in a small hotel room with my two friends and couldn´t bring him back with me. He suggested we get another room. I kissed him goodbye.
On my way out the door again, the second exit, I chatted with some more people, and then left. Halfway down the block, a different cute boy came out of the bar and ran to catch up with me. He walked with me through town and again I realized how little Spanish I know, having such trouble communicating with this sexy guy. He also wanted to come back with me, and I again had to explain that that wouldn´t work out. He lived in Mitla, which is totally crazy because it is at least an hour away and is a tiny, rural town. I wondered what this boy´s life was like that he came so far on Saturday night to be gay and dance with other boys. We parted ways when he turned to head toward the bus station. I went home, sexually frustrated again.
The rain is slowing. I still feel a bit hungover/tired from perhaps an excesssive consumption of mezcal last evening. Soon I will be sitting on the beach and about that I am so excited.