El Guapo in DC

I am El Guapo. The most Guapo man in all of DC. Mucho Amor

Saturday, March 31, 2007

Morals

It was a long night. I was cansado. Muy, muy tired. The sort of tired that makes your knees numb after a night of dancing on cheaper than you should have purchased leather-soled shoes. But, there was someone. When there is a woman with such melodic hips on the dance floor, you forget about the knees. You forget about many things, because those hips, those hips.

The invitation back for a “night cap” comes as a welcome surprise. Other than dancing circles around my “competition” and easily having the best mustache in the club, I didn’t do much talking. There were smiles and wise cracks, but, like I explained, I was tired. I still do not understand from where the term “night cap” comes, but I have always been a fan. Of any cap really. Morning, afternoon, dusk, whenever.

The first thing I saw upon entering her apartment was a flag of Venezuela. I like Venezuela. I believe there is something special in their water because the women do not disappoint. I believe that the United States wouldn’t have political issues with Venezuela if Hugo Chavez were a beautiful Venezuelan woman.

The night cap started, as all night caps start, with a tour of the apartment. A tour. Why is it that women find the need to give me a tour when I am invited back to their place at three in the morning? Si, it is polite, but come on. Why the tour at three?

We then made it to the most important room in the house, the bedroom, when I was violently pushed onto the bed. Venezuelan women are not only beautiful, they are also strong. The night cap was becoming one of my favorites as my new amiga straddled me on the edge of her bed as her skirt eased up her sides. Did I mention that I like Venezuela?

I embraced her like this for a bit with my eyes closed until I made the error of opening my eyes. In the beginning, it was not an error. It was beautiful. To see an olive-colored sun kissed Venezuelan gyrating on you is a blessing, but my peripheral vision once again was there to haunt me.

I saw something horrid out of the corner of my eye. If I had kept my eyes closed, things would have been perfect. Even Hugo Chavez would have slapped me on my back and congratulate me on a job well done. But no. I, for some reason, had to open my eyes. Me, being curious by nature, wanted to see her room. Why? I don’t know. Because I really could care less about her room, but, at this moment, I wanted to see what adorned her walls. It ruined it.

I have to go.

“Que? Porque?”

I forgot that I have to do something early tomorrow.

“Are you serious?”

I was serious. Unfortunately, when I opened my eyes, I saw a man staring at me that took away all desire to be here with this woman. I hadn’t left, I wouldn’t be able to look at myself in the morning. I couldn’t do it.

I ran back to the bedroom to snap a picture for you:



You see, I cannot be in the bedroom of a woman with a picture of an Argentine on the wall. No matter how much of a cult hero he may have been, I could not bring myself to continue. Not now, not ever.

To be with El Guapo, one must be free of all things Argentinean. I do, however, think back and remember her flower-covered satin skirt and black high heels and wonder what could have been…

Sabes, sometimes, I am a true idiota.

Mucho Amor,

El Guapo

17 Comments:

At 5:49 PM, Anonymous class-factotum said...

Yep, the sight of the Butcher of Havana would be enough to make me vomit, too. I applaud your good sense.

 
At 7:34 PM, Anonymous mary.whitsell@virgin.net said...

If Cesar Chavez were a beautiful Venezuelan woman, the United States probably wouldn't have political issues with Cuba, either! Fidel would be too busy . . .

 
At 8:17 PM, Anonymous mary.whitsell@virgin.net said...

Oops. I did not mean Cesar Chavez, I meant Hugo Chavez.

I have forgotten what country and what decade I am in.

 
At 9:02 PM, Anonymous girl and dog said...

No te creo. What hispanic man would resist a woman straddling him?

 
At 11:27 PM, Anonymous Anonymous said...

mi amor... you write so beautifully!

 
At 11:32 PM, Anonymous Bob said...

Good job El Guapo, El Che was a bloodthirsty bastard. Did you not consider that perhaps it would have been worse to make him watch?

 
At 1:03 AM, Anonymous Anonymous said...

You're jealous of his moustache. Get over yourself, El G.

 
At 6:09 AM, Blogger Mujer Morena said...

El Che? No manches, papi. I'm all for taking a stand, but that's a bit much, no?

 
At 1:54 PM, Blogger emeralda said...

hey, a man of principles truly misses opportunities right and left, but then, he stays a man of principles!!!!
ps my boyfriend was such a guy but now he is an ex and going to marry a beautiful polandish re-bound

 
At 4:26 PM, Anonymous -123- said...

el guapo. ur so cute ;P

 
At 4:54 PM, Blogger Crankster said...

Bravo!!!!

I understand your regret, but you did the right thing. Not because he was an Argentinian, but because he was a mass murderer. Good for you!

 
At 5:12 PM, Anonymous Anonymous said...

de veras?
no te creo.

 
At 10:50 AM, Blogger La Cubana Gringa said...

If it's any consolation, I would have done the same thing. You know, IF I found myself with a Venezolana straddling me with a picture of Che right by my face....

 
At 6:51 PM, Blogger Lee said...

Are you sure you aren't gay? ;)

 
At 12:07 AM, Anonymous Anonymous said...

el guapo, what the hell is wrong with you!!?? do you know what some of us would do to even see a beautiful venezolana in our city!? shame, shame on you!
i can't believe i just read that, makes me sad, sad. damn.

 
At 4:14 AM, Blogger P1P said...

After. You leave after.

Muppet.

 
At 6:41 AM, Anonymous Anonymous said...

This particular story must be fiction. Besides, the thumbtacks on the picture are so large that it's got to be a tiny photo, and thus easily taken off the wall...?

 

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