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October 7, 2017
The hotel I’m staying in serves breakfast on the Main floor. I like it a lot because there are huge steel pots of rice porridge with corn as well as veggie fritters that melt in your mouth. Today, I sat down with a newspaper in my hand and began reading while sipping on freshly brewed coffee. About fifteen feet ahead of me, an older man was discussing business on his cellphone with someone, I imagine, was enjoying the man’s absence.
He was Caucasian, closing in on sixty-five or more and had rolls of fat and noticeable man breasts. From a distance I saw a nose that appeared as something that had evolved from an abusive relationship with alcohol. When he ended his call, he spoke some mindless banter with two staff members who remained polite and smiled.
I was half-way though my second bowl of rice porridge when a young, thin and pretty Filipina entered the restaurant and sat down next to the older man. She could not have been more than nineteen and was obviously his “date” from the previous evening.
Before we continue, I will admit that I am not even remotely close to an angel but I do have obvious moral standards based on respect and the old adage of treat others how you wish to be treated. Am I a self-righteous ass? Yah, maybe but nonetheless, while watching this unlikely duo I wanted to throw up in my mouth thinking of what this young girl had to go through and I wondered if she vomited the moment she got back home. She kept her head down while in the restaurant; trying as hard as she could not to engage in any eye contact with the staff who were doing the same. I have learned rather quickly that shame is an accepted partnership in the Philippines.
That being said, the old fat foreigner had to know that this sexual dalliance could not have been a pleasant experience for a young girl – and yes, she’s a girl, not a woman. He had to know that he wasn’t a stud no matter what the girl might have claimed and he wasn’t more handsome than the young male restaurant staff who were a much better coupling. He had to know that the girl would be traumatized or at the very least, forever carry a burning hatred for foreign men because of the sale of her body. He had to know…that he was a sad, sorry excuse for human flesh and should spend the rest of his life atoning for his penis brain and weak morals. He had to know this, but probably didn’t.
The normal argument for these types of purchases or agreements is two-sided. The girl needs money and the man just wants a few minutes of pleasure that doesn’t involve one of his hands. That is the easy argument but way too simple to pass off as a “one size fits all” type of response.
In order for any man not to feel crushing guilt over pay for play (also known as P4P), he has to have a very low opinion of women or the women’s culture or both. The contrary to this cold, self-involved male would be lonely men who travel thousands of miles hoping for a few moments of human contact that has been elusive in his homeland. Each of these men, while very different, cannot be excused or pardoned for their transgressions. They could easily buy love in their hometowns if so inclined, but come to the Philippines for the bargain. Cheap sex with young girls. Most of these men, whether somewhat kind-hearted or just scum, have no idea who they are sleeping with. They hear the stories of poverty and willingly take advantage of this poverty but don’t feel great empathy because they can’t “see” the true poverty from their hotel swimming pool.
Last night, I walked P Burgos street in Makati and observed the multiple transactions between foreign men and young girls/women as well as the surprising large population of transsexuals. The desperation from the Viagra vendors and the girls was nothing short of intense; it was overwhelming but after a few conversations over drinks, I gathered that the sadness doesn’t end when the sex deed is done; it really just begins for many of these girls. Across the street from P Burgos is an abandoned building that at four a.m. every night is the home for dozens of homeless hookers. If they don’t meet a “john” for the evening and go back to a hotel with him, they sleep on the street. I saw it for myself. The ladies and ladyboys sleep inside a barrier of trash and piss puddles. Bars on P Burgos give out pillows to the prostitutes when they get their dates to buy expensive “lady drinks”. The pillows are used for sleeping on the street and the bars are very aware of this. During working hours, the pillows are carefully hidden with bags of clothes and makeup kits until the night of solicitating is over.
I wonder if the men who rent these girls are cognizant that the piece of flesh they are “molesting for money” was sleeping on a concrete floor with fifty other hookers the night before. Are they aware that the shower before sex was the first that the girl will have had since her last customer, which may have been a week ago.
The sex for money trade in Makati is not restricted to P Burgos street. Twenty steps from my hotel’s front entrance, a group of girls no older than twenty (and I’m betting much younger), hand out business cards for massages; code word for sex. Prices vary depending on client requirement. The girls sit there from early evening to early morning waiting for a customer to text their phone. Foreign men of all races and religions, accept the cards and ask about pricing before walking away. In the morning when the girls have returned to wherever they came from, the same area has an overpowering smell of urine.
It is so easy to blame the government for the huge difference between the haves and the have-nots and the lack of fairly paid jobs that in essence is wholly responsible for a sex trade that is so blatantly open and accepted as normal. This is the piece of the puzzle that baffles me; why is this accepted or become almost blasé as a discussion subject? On the way to the airport two days later, I questioned my cab driver on how he felt about 3F’s (F-ing Fat Foreigners) paying for sex with extremely young Filipinas. He said there were only a few and it happens everywhere. How could a man who drives a cab, twelve hours a day be so oblivious? And no, it doesn’t happen everywhere! He threw in the poverty excuse and had nothing else to say other than it was the government’s problem.
How can anyone blame the Duterte government for prostitution due to poverty when it existed with the previous governments right back to American colonialism? How can a country that is so dedicated to Catholicism accept that their sisters are selling themselves to foreign mongers who obviously have no respect for them or the country they live in. How can a religion so ridiculously rich, not share their wealth to save a nation of followers?
The answers are simple. No one – except a few – gives a damn about Filipinos and the residents of the nation must start realizing this. First thing is to stop, or at least, put a large dent in the sex trade. There is a way to dissuade foreign men from visiting the Philippines as sex tourists; in fact, it is quite simple. If I went to YouTube today, I could find hours and hours of footage from assholes who videotape bargirls and hookers and post their videos to make some coin. Quite often, as a sign of respect, they will blur out the faces of their fellow sex tourists. They won’t do the same for the girls who don’t wish to be videotaped; girls who fear that family back in the province will learn how they are making a living but…for the losers who rent girls for cheap, they offer great respect. I say, turn the tables on them. Blur out the faces of the girls and focus on the sex mongers. Get their 3F faces front and centre and post videos on YouTube. If they can videotape…then why can’t you? Do the same for the losers who post on Pastor Hokage sites and purposely sully Filipina lives. Show mothers what their sons are doing! Embarrass them the same way they embarrass the girls they are scarring for life.
Collect the videos and we will post them.
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