The Sex Lives of Misfits in the Caribbean

For some reason, many of the expats that migrate down to the Caribbean seem to be a crazy, mad, disenfranchised, hell raising, lunatic fringe who not only embrace lunacy, they wear it like a coat of arms for protection. The ones who aren’t yet certifiably crazy are usually on their way to acquiring the necessary documents so that they can become certifiable in the eyes of their governments… in order to qualify for disability and early retirement.

Also, nearly all the foreigners who move down here are desperately searching for a girlfriend, boyfriend, donkey or any available livestock that, for a myriad of reasons, they cannot seem to find back in their own country. 

Unique problems arise from this desperation. The first problem is that many of the foreigners come down expecting to meet Julia Roberts or Richard Gere from the movie Pretty Woman. It doesn’t always work out like this. Values are different, morals are different, and customs and traditions are different. For one thing, the really beautiful island girls and guys already have plenty of foreigners chasing them; and many receive Western Union money from abroad. The second problem is that many expats and foreigners are looking for a younger, beautiful, drop dead gorgeous islander — the equivalent of which they could never, ever obtain in their own country because, well, some of them weigh 300 pounds or more, are twice their age, lack teeth and resemble Big Foot — with hair covering their entire bodies like a wooly mammoth. Many of the older expats are quite heavy and have not seen their own genitals since Nixon was in the White House. The islander, on the other hand, usually survives on a simple diet of rice, beans, yucca, plantains and fresh fruit — and as a result possesses less than 5% body fat and weighs no more than a feather. 

This common, everyday pairing of Beauty and the Beast can lead to some funny, disastrous, scary, intriguing but bizarre pairings — one of which include being cheated on with farm animals. Others include being scammed by the supposedly sick relatives of your girlfriend or boyfriend (who do not exist), being scammed by neighbours (who think all foreigners are Beverly Hillbilly millionaires who live in Hollywood mansions), or my personal favourite: being scammed by charlatan real–estate agents and snake oil salesmen who come out of the woodwork once they sniff out anyone who has recently arrived here with money and a desire to possess girls, cars, property or drugs. 

Another problem is that whenever you have an older foreign man or woman flying down here in the effort to secure a drop-dead gorgeous twenty year old girlfriend or boyfriend — who, by their sheer age and reckless leaking and reeking of intoxicating hormones have the unfortunate consequence of permeating the air around them for ten square kilometres (intoxicating and attracting everything to them including, but not limited to, Viagra popping mid-life crisis divorcees, cougars, and donkeys) you end up with trouble. The fact that these twenty-something young adults are still in possession of something on top of their heads commonly referred to as hair, along with healthy glowing skin, white teeth and muscle tone, means that the game of attraction is already rigged in their favour from the get-go. This can have the unfortunate consequence of opening a Pandora box of things which go wrong.

One of the first things to go awry is their communication — a lack of understanding each other’s language. Few islanders speak languages other than their own native tongue, and few foreigners can understand or speak a distorted form of Spanish that only infants, autistic children and donkeys can comprehend.

Another thing to go wrong is a lack of understanding of each other’s culture. A fifty year old coming down here from a western industrialized country — which possesses both electricity and flushing toilets — is never going to identify with someone who has grown up without electricity and is accustomed to squatting over a mosquito infested 6 foot hole in the ground — commonly referred to as an outhouse — to relieve themselves. 

Another problem is how much in common does a well-traveled, educated, fifty year old Westerner really have with a twenty year old islander who has never traveled outside of a twenty square kilometre perimeter within which they’ve grown up?

To be continued…after more wine!

From the book The Sex Lives of Misfits by Frank Genao

Buy the book at Amazon

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