Ahh classic soul music… If ever there was a man who could drop panties, it would unquestionably be a chocolate lover with the voice of silk. Classic soul is unequivocally some of the best and most timeless music to use while setting the mood and relieving “stress,” ergo this music has transcended time from generation to generation, or better yet, from bedroom to bedroom.You may have never heard of a one-hit wonder, Billy Paul, but I’m sure you can all relate to his story. Let me explain…
Among my ever-growing list of favorite songs is “Mrs. Jones.” A classic story about lust, infidelity, and lies, but in a way that even the nicest girl wants to become a sultry mistress, sneaking around with her naughty boy-toy. Mrs. Jones knows that what she’s doing is wrong, but isn’t that part of the attraction? The intricate web of tiptoeing between relationships becomes a drug that the couple needs daily, while always thinking in the back of their minds about the delicate balance between their carnal desires, and the caution they must acknowledge with every move.
“Ignorance is Bliss? Or Naïveté is Murder?”
Mrs. Jones was well aware of what she was intentionally doing, she knew it was wrong, but she proceeded anyway for the trill and excitement of the chase. Her and her lover would meet daily for their trysts, the same time, the same café, very oh-so-taboo.
But what if Mrs. Jones didn’t realize she was Mrs. Jones? What if she thought she was just plain-old-Mrs-Smith?
One rule of thumb that I have yet to master in Argentina is the direct question of, “So, do you have a girlfriend?” I guess it’s very Gringa of me to assume that when you’re spending time with a guy that obviously means that he is in the same boat at me, single and loving it.
Man was I wrong.
Unbeknownst me, I have become the insatiable Mrs. Jones… Twice… Now, you may be thinking to yourself, “ah well, she’s not completely innocent in all of this,” but you’re wrong. To say that I was duped doesn’t even do the situation justice.
Example A: after 2ish months of spending time with a wonderful guy, talking, grabbing drinks, etc, we got into a conversation about relationships, big mistake. He began talking about how he loves all types of women (typical argentine), and how it’s great that he can be in an open relationship, spending time with whomever he wants. HA HA… Wow, speechless (not an easy feat for me)... The fire lit under my ass that night could have sent a 500 lb smoker sprinting for the door and a stiff drink.
Almost 5 months later, my friend is back on the market, and calling me often. Despite his ahem… affinity for hmmm multiple girl{friends} he’s still a great guy. I mean, not marriage material or anything, but a great guy nonetheless. And as Nana says, it’s always good to have a fella to call to grab a drink. Advice taken!
Example B: Yes, I know that I’m going to get in trouble for this one, and part of me will regret it, but f*ck it, I’m young, impulsive, and telling the truth. I walked into my apartment about a 3 months(ish) ago to find a group of my roommates friends all sitting around playing playstation (yes, these are grown men), and was introduced to a friend of a friend of a friend of a cousin of a soccer teammate, etc (you get the gist).
He, like all argentine men, was extremely charming and a sight for sore eyes; despite his inability to speak English, we were able to talk, flirt, whatever you wanna call it. While we were able to communicate, there are certain fundamental cultural points that I’m still unable to wrap my head around. Like say for example, if you kiss a girl, and then taking her out on multiple dates, that is a signal of being single… Wait, “IN AMERICA, (typically) IF YOU TAKE A GIRL OUT ON A DATE, IT IS BECAUSE YOU ARE SINGLE.” Obviously there are always the exceptions, but for me, this has always been my experience.
A week after we meet, we ended up going out of town to get away from the hustle and bustle of Buenos Aires. About 100k’s outside the city, I had a bomb dropped on me. “Lau, I kind of still have a girlfriend, and we live together.”
“SON OF A BIIIIIIIIIIITCH!”
***The resolution of this story will eventually come out in my book. So until then, for those of you fortunate enough to have read it, you know how it turned out. For those who haven't... Well, just wait for the paperback!*****
When will argentines learn that they can’t have their cake and eat it too? And believe me, that saying really doesn’t culturally translate over. I think I’ve tried 101 ways to express it and I always turn up short.
So its back to the drawing board, and hopefully the closet, to hang up my boots as Mrs. Jones. I’m more of a Havaianas kinda gal anyways.
