Te Amo al Infinito

Clayton comes bearing lovely gifts and a serious bouquet to make a Kodak memory. It’s a fairly subdued reunion and he cries with the relief of finally having a girlfriend. It’s all good even if Anali pretend-threatens to eat the guinea pigs if he upsets her; of course, she first has to learn how to cook," he banters. The big test though is how the claustrophobic apartment will affect Anali. Violet is as stiff as a Buckingham Palace guard but she tries to welcoming best trembling out a few Spanish words. Her smile reveals teeth veering in all 4 directions, the third pointing to Clayton’s low drop fade. You could do the tour standing still in the middle of the living room. "There are things everywhere and it’s overwhelming. They prefer that dogs sleep well and that the guinea pigs have space to play. They’re doing things backwards and there’s no table either so where do they eat? I didn’t know Clayton’s mom lived in the closet. I pictured a small space, but not exactly the closet. In a closet, you can store clothes, shoes, suitcases, etc. Discreetly she says nothing for she knows it’s only temporary and that they’ll have something bigger down the road. But tonight, after a 30-hour flight and only a wall as thin as David Toborowsky’s hair between them and Violet, Teddy Bear will be the Berlin Wall. Clayton, like all the guys on this franchise, wanting to knock boots the first night out doesn’t seem to understand that sex doesn’t usually feel super tempting in a tired moment. Why I’d be delighted to put my needs last again.

Get On a Plane and Come to me. Period.

Claire, Sophie’s mom, is as far from aristo as Planet Nine is from Earth, but her advice is as sound as Yoda’s. She exhales counsel through her constantly moving fish lips. “He’s an actual knobhead. Forget the crocodile tears. He’s jobless; he’s boring; he has no sympathy and now he’s talking to dirty nasty skanks just so that he can get his 🌭to explode. He’s disgusting. You can’t be with this guy. You cannot marry him, Soph. Clearly, you want to be with him because this conversation would be, ‘Mom, I’ve left Rob’; but, we’re not having that conversation. Deep down you want to give him a chance, and deep down, you really love him.” Sophie acknowledges, "You can’t unlove someone that quickly. I will hear his side, but at the same time, I’ve seen the videos; I’ve seen the messages and I can’t unsee that. Sigh. Consider if the reward is worth the risk. Sorry, I’m late in contacting you Rob; I got here as soon as I wanted to.

Don’t Rain On My Parade

They’re headed to Palazzo di Bocce. One reluctant Latina against an Italian family. Jazmine is to optimism as Nick Cannon is to family planning. “You know me; I don’t take shit from anyone. I feel like a cow going to the butchery.” “It’s gloomy and dark and the weather is like the scenario for a horror movie.” And now the last sage but backfiring words of advice both Jasmine and I have ever received is: Just Be Yourself. The family looks as if they would be more comfortable at a livestock show at the local county fairgrounds. Jasmine robotically flashes her Risus sardonicus smile. “I’m not sure they’re being nice with me. It is like when an animal is trying to attract their prey. They are trying to look friendly, but they’re just waiting for the moment to attack.” Suspicious much? They make the Fredo Corleone “Cent’ anni” toast while the family wonders, thankfully out of Gino’s earshot, what the attraction is. “In ways, they seem a little mismatched. Gino’s not the best-looking guy; he doesn’t have the most money. She posts slightly provocative images on social media. Why is she doing that? Is she trying to get other sugar daddies? What’s her real intent”? Inquiring minds want to know. What will she bring to the table? Well, her BBL, for one - a big red flag that screams get your woman in line which, we all know, Gino will do when he’s mastered the art of steer wrestling and bareback bronc riding at a professional rodeo, and she’s sacrificed! You know - that whole-my-life-back-home thing for a man who should be so grateful for her irresistibility that he would immolate himself to demonstrate nothing less acceptable than extreme devotion.

She’s ever-so-gently disinvited them from their wedding to avoid another skirmish and uses her wistfully lonely dog as an excuse for a hasty exit. Uh oh. She’s the one who’s just raised her leg and pissed on the Palazzolo family - an infamnia. But, in the car, before Gino can decompress his lips, Jasmine finds that lip gloss. “What is this”? “I don’t know. Could be one of my CO-WORKERS or some other MOTHER FUCKER in my car and maybe they dropped it.” “Wait a minute. You go out with your co-workers”? “Yes. Is that a problem? You’re not listening. I wasn’t dating anyone. You’re always looking for something.” The rigid thousand-yard stare is unrelenting until a paroxysm of rage leans her against the car door where she weeps uncontrollably. “I can read him. I can tell he’s guilty as fuck. I wanna’ go home,” she keeps repeating. “You’re a fucking cheater!” “No, I’m not. I’m dropping you off.” “I’m going back home to Panama. I never want to see you again,” she shrieks. “Okay. Go. You’re crazy.” He has made a decision! He will order her an Uber to take her to a hotel after she collects her stuff and Bon Voyage! A disconsolate, inconsolable, and wretched Jasmine is standing alone in the back of somewhere wearing impossibly white gloves. Of course, I talk like an idiot. How else would you understand me?

Don’t Forget to Smile

Nick’s parents are surprisingly supportive. Dad has learned a few halting words of English for the occasion and Mom is developing a new interest in America. They only hope she knows how to respect her elders. (Why not ask TJ’s Kimberly?) The immediate family settles down to dinner in what looks like a Korean deli with tables that have an ingenious side drawer for napkins and silverware. Nick wipes lipstick off Devin’s teeth and she declines his offer of trying to speak a little Korean. Mom leads the conversation - a series of questions about their future plans. Initially, they will stay with Devin’s parents for a year. It will be hard, maybe impossible to visit, but he’ll try. Devin now telescopes her entire body. Her eyeliner is downcast and the pockets under her eyes are a new-found shade of pink. She turns sideways so imperceptibly that it’s startling to discover she’s crying with the overwhelmingness of being responsible for expropriating Deok’s and Gunja’s son. “Not how I wanted to meet my future in-laws.” “Parents will always worry. Son has always done well so I trust his decision. Call me for support.” But neither can speak the other’s language! “Let me tell you what,” Nick whispers in their ear as they enter the subway station, “Your tears helped; now it’s my turn.” A man’s mother may be his misfortune, but his wife is his fault.

Mr. I Don’t Have Anything to Work On

"We have sex at least once a day; it’s helping with the bickering. Manuel with his typical butter-wouldn’t-melt-in-his-mouth look trills, “She comes purring like a cat.” “There’s lots of power and magic in sex, especially when you reach orgasm. Think about what it is you desire most.” (Like finally receiving your pilot’s license or being bumped up to PM at Apple Inc.?) “Keep that in your head and when you’re literally at the point of orgasm, concentrate on that and watch it like vibrate inside of your head. That’s the easiest way.” Rilly? At the witchy-vibed Spirit Room Bar where Manuel expects to be ambushed when he’s not being ignored and feeling like an outsider because he doesn’t speak the language, Ashley’s friends are peppering him with questions. “He thinks it’s comical I call myself a witch and I don’t know how we’ll move past that.” He doesn’t endear himself to the crowd when he says, “She talks too much and I just listen while she yells at me. Am I right or what”? Oh, if looks could kill. Manuel is 80% ready to marry while I personally feel the other 20% is reserved for his baby mama back home, but it’s needed for a getting-to-know-you time although Manuel admits, “You can never get to know the other person completely. We all have secrets,” meaning to Ashley that her man doesn’t like to be questioned, and to me if it won’t hurt you and you don’t have a pressing need to know (like a communicable disease or upcoming incarceration), then my secrets don’t become your ammunition.

It is at the bilingual therapist’s, while Ashley complains about trust issues that Manuel muestra sus verdaderos colores when he purrs, “Nobody’s going to change me. I’m happy like this. I have nothing important to talk to her. It’s like she’s accusing me of something. Who called you? What is this? Why don’t you do this? If I say something, she doesn’t understand me well.” “He laser visions on the TV like I’m not there.” “She reacts more when you’re quiet,” translates the therapist. Ahí es cuando el bastardo sonríe, “That’s . . . that’s when I sit back and enjoy.” 🔥 “Why would you say something like that? It’s sooooo rude. LIVID is an understatement. PISSED!” Roses are red, violets are blue, I have five fingers, the third’s one for you.

More Riding Horse

Before she comes, he goes. “There are still some elements that are missing. Listen, I am a leopard in heat and I took hormones before I came (here that is) and I am very very horny and you’re depriving me,” Nikki whines. “Let me ask you. If, for you, the best most important thing for your life is the sex, why don’t you search the professional in this sex”? (I’m thinking Mustang Ranch.) Nikki needs a life partner who can drill her like a jackhammer. Justin is still on a steep learning curve.

She finally gets to meet his remaining friends. All guys and one girl, Roksy. They’ve never seen him with a girlfriend; he’s so private. Nikki has a cocktail and becomes voluble. This time is different because Justin knows the truth. She was dishonest before and he couldn’t handle it. “I didn’t know she was not the real woman.” Now Nikki is being all-the-way, Nikki. “My family didn’t accept me; they cut me off for 2 years. I got to a place where I had to really struggle to survive. I was in the street; I was homeless. Sometimes I had no place to go to at night and I had to eat. So I had to be with someone sexually to get that food or even get a place to sleep.” Deep concern from Roksy, “You what? I can’t imagine,” she murmurs. “I had to do a lot of things I wasn’t happy with.” Igor isn’t disturbed. " I’m not feel bad because I respect her past life because she needs to survive."

That’s all well and good but Nikki needs advice about Moldovan men so she spirits Roksy away for a womanly tete-a-tete. "It’s a little personal. He would pleasure me ⬇️ there before he knew I was trans. He would pleasure every single part of my body. Now he will not xx on me xxxx. I spoke to him about it and he said, 'Give me time. Roksy interjects, “It’s not an answer.” “It’s been a year and a half. It hurts and it’s just not happening.” Meanwhile, on the patio, the guys are getting into it. “How is she in bed”? “Guys, it’s like a sex machine.” 😄😄😄😄 “Well, for us it is common for the women to be submissive, yes? Do you feel like she is acting like a man or no”? “She has times where she does that. There is a dominating streak.” Not to offend but, "Does she have a penis or not? So she a full woman then? “You understand, I cannot tell her apart from another woman. Everything there is done very well.” Yet, all is not wine and roses. “If I start thinking about it, who it is and what it is, then yes . . .then I . . . It cools you off. Sometimes I cannot perform because I cannot still fully accept all of it. When I think of intimacy with Nikki, for me it’s, now it’s to forget she’s trans because sometimes she’s acting like man part; I don’t know, controlling. It’s not working in our relationship.” Am I My Brothel’s Keeper?