Sunday, April 2, 2017

Stories of Puerto Rico.

The other week at a new bar up in the yuppie/bro neighborhood, I was chit-chatting with the bartender, this (slim) (young) (recent Puerto Rican) immigrant (guy) who was into poly and bought me my 2nd and 3rd beer on the house.

He used to run a computer store in a village, and he said one of his biggest sellers was surge protectors, since the way the electricity would come on and off, people's computers would get fried if they didn't have them.

"Ah, just like I thought Puerto Rico would be," I thought to myself, though of course I didn't say that.

He also said that he misses the village sometimes, because the big city is so cold and impersonal.

"It's like if you're at the gas station and someone pulls in in front of you, you think twice about giving them the finger, because you might see them there the same time the next week," he was like.

When we talked more about poly, he said it was pretty new for him, but his girlfriend has a small brain tumor, so who is he to restrict her life when she might not have much time left.

"The first time when she was out with another guy, it was hard," he was like.  "But I had to learn it was about me.  It's a process"

I also found out he knew this poly/BDSM guy from that one documentary series I used to go to, interestingly enough, though I guess it's not so surprising.

Those kind of people always all know each other, since there's not that many of them.

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