Passport Wins

I'm the last person you should ever listen to about relationships and picking up girls but since you're reading this you're not really listening, yeah? So read this:

The first trip I took to BsAs I didn't party all that much the first couple of weeks, I was too culture shocked to really get into it. The first time I really went out big was after I gave a speech at the game industry conference they have down here, EVA. I gave my speech in english to a standing ovation and then rocked out to dinner and drinks in Recoleta with the VIPs from Sony and the top 4 people in the local industry. Everything was paid for, it was baller as hell. After that the Sony people wanted to know where the party was at so my local amigos took them to Crobar. The Sony expense account was charged a couple hundred dollars to reserve a VIP table with a few hundred pesos worth of drink credit. I stood looking over the dance floor and told my friend "I feel like a demon god."

I went around trying to dance with some girls, they were kinda doing their own thing and that got me nowhere. So I was sitting back drinking and my man Chilkowski who runs NGD Studios told me "we have a saying here, let me see if I can translate it. The wallet kills the stud, but the passport kills the wallet."

"No entiendo," I said.

"Speak english."

It was just that simple.

So I went around speaking english to different girls. And I started getting e-mails, if I had a cell phone at the time they would have been phone numbers. I would go up, project a good onda and say "how y'all doin?"

"Oh, where are you from?"

"Why, the good 'ol U, S and A."

"Oh what part of the USA?"

"Like, California." (Seemed like the best State to rep, I'm not really from California.)

"Oh I love California! My dream is to go work in fashion in Los Angeles."

"Yeah I've been to LA a bunch of times, hell of a city."

It was easy. The english, to a large subset of argentinas, is like a hot knife melting through any of the typical reservations from talking with a stranger. There was a time when being American was like a shining badge of hope; and I've heard stories of what Russia was like for expats earlier this decade, or east Asia. These days America has pretty well done shot its global image and the attitude is interested for sure, but more from a point of novelty rather than admiration. None of that history really matters though, its still the ultimate opener.

Lots of guys figure this out early in their time here and they fall on it like a crutch. The truth is you have to speak some spanish, the more the better. English is a great opener but its only sustainable with only one of fifty girls who really know the language. And being foreign definitely doesn't give you full license to be a total dick, you just have to be less of a dick than the typical argentino.

I say, lets cross-pollinate cultures to the max.

My Ayahuasca Ceremony Experience

My friends have told me that I'm a very stable tripper. My friend Duncan once had a bad time on shrooms, thinking that all the blades of grass were judging him after I told him to shut up, and he sped off down the road repeating loudly "I do it because I like it." I was able to shift between a seeing god mentality to being practical about saving my friend's life, and after that was resolved I enjoyed the rest of my trip. I once walked into a Bank of America after being up all night on acid, wearing a blue-stained Army of One t-shirt, a black neon hawaiian shirt and a faded blue stripe on my face, and I had a completely straight faced conversation about BoA's international wiring terms to Argentina, which caused this cute Ethiopian girl to start cracking up at the end of the conversation when I said in monotone: "thank you, this is something I'll be considering."

Robert Anton Wilson has told me that there are 8 circuits of consciousness - I had previously lived on the seventh at the max. He also suggest that DMT, the active ingredient of Ayahuasca, is the nuerochemical key to the ultimate level of consciousness.

The thing had been built up in my head for years. In college I could score almost anything but DMT was far too exotic for Virginia Tech. I had to move to South America before it would become available to me. Going into it I wasn't sure whether it would be a tumultuous vision quest or a detached, out-of-body experience like my grandpa experienced on ketamine and scotch before deciding he'd rather blow his brains out than live with my grandmother. I was most afraid that I wasn't sufficiently detoxified and that my 300 pesos investment would be for naught. These were rather like the fears one has before losing one's virginity, until you find that you're (hopefully) with someone you love and everything is just awesome, fears were not needed. In this case, I was about to have sex with god.

On the subway three juggler kids were performing, a little girl and two boys. I had a glass bottle of coca-cola full of water that I was going to drink during the ceremony, I let the kids drink it instead and gave them ten centavos, even though I could have given them twenty pesos. The one kid wanted to keep the bottle, just to have something, but I told him I needed it and he gave it back.

I arrived at the house, a couple blocks off the Malabia subway exit. The house has a buena onda, skylight, couches, bean bag chairs, wind chimes, scented candles, stuff like that. There was a loft room where we all stashed our shoes, an entry hall with the atrium skylight and a main room where the ceremony took place. They had taken out all the furniture that was there from my contraindications interview a few weeks prior, there were little mats lined about, a pillow for each, and red and orange vomitus buckets tucked to the sides along with a liter bottles of water. People were advised to bring their own sleeping bags. I was immediately struck by the demographics of the people there, I at my age of 24 I was probably the youngest person in the room. These were not teenage psychonauts, these were mature human beings bearing the weight of decades of life experience and seeking to have a resolution forward. Clearly we were in for something of a different tenor than a party drug.

Geronimo is a young shaman with much lighter skin than I expected and short dread-locked hair, he politely greeted everyone. When I met him I asked "sos Geronimo?" and he said "lo mismo" with the kind of basic grace you'd expect from a wizened diplomat. We all sat down and he laid out the rules, during the ceremony nobody is to talk to each other or interact, the bathroom is around the corner, breakfast will be at 8 and we can all talk then. Simple and respectful, and in retrospect the whole thing had this vibe that you are an adult taking care of your own detox, respecting the rules and taking responsibility for your own experience, but they will be there to help you in any moment. I saw a used 2 liter Pepsi bottle filled with a thick, purple concoction, like the syrup for Grape Soda with the consistency of cough formula. I asked the lovely young woman sitting next to me if that was the Ayahuasca, she informed that it was. When I was asked her about the experience she said "es tu proprio" and "no esta en el mente, es en el corazon." All I could do was try to get a good stretch in so as not to waste precious brain cycles thinking about unnecessary aches and tensions in my body during the experience.

Two little girls helped in the ceremony, they were probably about 8 and 6; both wearing pink outfits with pastel-green socks. The 8-year old wreathed our heads in a fragrant tobacco while the 6-year old playfully bent her toes against the ground in rhythm to Geronimo's blowing over the Ayahuasca bottle. It was like The Holy Mountain meets Disney, but overall wholesome and family friendly. He then poured the mixture into a little China cup and the 8-year-old came over to offer it to me first, I look at her, shrugged, took it by one hand and threw it back. The taste was bitter, like everyone says, but I didn't think it was so bad. I'm the tipo to chase whiskey with beer and put tobasco sauce on everything, so maybe I'm outside the mean. The cup was returned, re-filled, and passed out to everyone in turn. When everyone had been served, the lights were cut and Geronimo began his chants.

After taking the elixer I immediately felt a sense of alteration, but I couldn't tell if it was just anticipatory jitters or a real chemical interaction. Then I started to wonder if I was going to get the experience, a concern I remember having shortly after taking mushrooms and LSD in the past, how little I learn. I just figured "no expectations, keep doing the prana yama." Geronimo's chants became more fierce, more passionate. I kept filling my lungs and slowly releasing them. I started to see faint black-and-white closed eye visuals of aymptotic cusps and centipedes, of dawns and horizons and big bangs. And before I knew it I got everything I ever wanted and more, and I was getting higher than Holy Fuck - as advertised.

It was not a hallucination. It was not a vision. It was like being held by god. It was like having sex with the universe. It was an honest, sincere consummation of everything; supreme ecstasy, an ascent into heaven. Geronimo's throat wobbling was the music of the spheres. Since DMT is produced by our pineal glands and released three times during our existence - birth, puberty and death, I was basically experiencing the awe of death preemptively. And the evangelion is that death is beautiful, death is the path to awe, death is eternal life. I saw my entire life ahead of me, the growth of my son, the love I will share with some woman out there and the other kids we'll have, working the earth, the bi-cameral local government and me and my friends having cervezas while the other political party, our wives, conspire in the other room. I felt overwhelming compassion for all humanity and a profound desire to make love every single day until I blissfully die.

Then I heard everyone start puking. The girl told me that the first time she took the sacrament only two out of twenty vomited. Well, this must have been a particularly strong batch, because everyone was puking up roses. The delicious nuances of their upchuck reflexes was the most hilarious thing I'd ever heard and I let out this satyr-ish belly laugh. Geronimo belched loudly. I laughed at that too. Then I farted a little bit.

I then decided to focus and ask the plant for some answers that I had wanted. Ever since I was 18 and I learned about both DMT and the form of programming known as the memetic algorithm, I've had the dream of building a software engine that can produce interactive content dynamically, it goes by the name of Directions-Thoughts-Materials or DMT, and I've sought out the chemical as a means of understanding directly what would be involved. I realized I already had the architecture pretty well defined, so I asked what kind of authoring language would the engine require. Geronimo's chanting gave me that answer. I received the keystone that will begin a year's worth of work. The authorship language will be a form of chant. People can just chant into the mic and lay down lines of script that will define how a bunch of data spins into a battlefield or a cathedral or a valley which is then populated with warriors or lovers or farmers, or really whatever the hell you want to come up with. Then on your second pass you can go over the text with the keyboard and the dev environment would offer a sumptuous feast of inverse parsed accents that you can add to the "nam"s and "ni"s and "chihueps" and so forth and these accents will code the permutations on the resulting creation. Finally the wave form that your ending throat wobble takes (the "hei, wueya, wueya wueeeaya wueeeeeyaaaaaaaa") will spin the matrix of variables that balance the gameplay to whatever style you desire to imbue. Obviously making that work with real software, data structures and everything, is a tall order, but I have the user experience encapsulated, and it is wonderful. We could all be shamans with this engine, spinning universes and dramas and meaningful decisions out of our tender voices. This was less than fourty minutes into the experience, and already the pearl of my quest was obtained. Ayahuasca was a gracious host.

I leaned forward, prostrate, and I realized why Moslems pray the way they do. I also realized why Arabic men sometimes beat their wives and sodomize them, they're pissed off about living in the middle of the desert, very simple. I also realized that when you pray like that it doesn't matter where you live, you are surrendering to the great lord. I resumed my upright position and sat in a hindu meditative stance and appreciated why they do that. Geronimo came by and poured florida water over my hands causing them to clasp together and I appreciated once again from my childhood why Christians pray the way they do. I hit my head against the wall and touched the top of my scalp and realized why Jews wear Yamachas on that position. Later, Geronimo came and doused my head with water, touching that top-point with the print of his thumb, and I saw a great pyramid rising into an erupting pulsar of light. There is no religion, there is only god and a multiplicity of techniques that work.

Feeling bold, I then asked the plant what was in store for humanity in 2012. The plant answered me honestly, "isn't it obvious? Humanity is on the verge of receiving Holy Death." I think what that means is that regardless of whether we all die in some massive extinction event, or there are a bunch of wars and disasters and lots of folks die and the survivors have a better attitude about living, or we have this Singularity where everything is coming up bubblegum and we all get to live forever, we will embrace the paradox of death and wake up. From this point on, death became the overriding theme of the night.

I accepted my own death, but then I started to think about some blog posts on this guy's survivalist site and I ended up getting the notion of someone pointing a gun at my head... in my head, and I couldn't get it out. I started thinking about what that would be like, then I started thinking about what I would feel if my yet unborn son had a gun pointed at his head, and I started to think, if it my was me on the other side of the trigger and pulling it meant eliminating that risk to my family, would I do it? Could I end another human life? I decided that I could, but if I had to give away ten million dollars to prevent myself from ever being in that kind of position, I would.

The weight of the hammer of a gun hung in mind my as infinite, as a halving of a halving of a halving. It was the same sensation I had when I was a child and I would have nightmares of an infinite tower that could not be climbed or two strangers on an infinite desert plane barely missing each other and by chance, dooming themselves to an eternity of solitude. I thought about Mel Gibson's Apocalypto and how these cultures bathed themselves in death rites as a way of anesthetizing the paradox, cutting off heads and throwing them down steps, while the priests know astronomy and math to pull the strings and the stern Catholics look charming in comparison. Geronimo went into an impassioned chant and I pictured starving mothers in Somalia with breasts deflated over a caved-in rib cage and eyes filled with "why?" I thought about what it would mean to be truly "safe" from those who might want me to share what I have, to pull the trigger consistently and with precision, how I would hate to be good at that, how I felt sorry for the soliders and the mercenaries who resigned themselves to professional butchery. I experienced the last minute of the life of Cho Seung-hui. I rolled the word "death" and "muerte" over my frontal lobe, tasting their textures, comparing the connotations of those sounds to the Japanese idea of death which is more of a rebirth, which seems only practical in a culture where at one point (two, now that I think about it) a hundred thousand people just evaporated in a flash of white light and a million anime plotlines would be born from the ashes. I weighed whether it is better to have the Christian mentality and guard your life and that of your family and produce as many new lives as possible and be like that, or whether its better to acknowledge that all that life-loving behavior is just what your brain wants you to do and we're all just floating around a big electron and it doesn't really matter whether someone shoots you and your kid in the head or not, which I imagined is the attitude of a lot of the people getting the poorest lot in this world.

I found myself at the brink of enlightenment, filled with love, bounding out of the socio-sexual moral circuit into the higher circuits, to the very higest, and being dragged back down to the reptilian paranoia of kill or be killed in the name of an unborn child. But then I realized, I can do better.

I realized that there's two ways this global deleveraging, this global transformation, can play out: either the gulf between rich and poor goes exponential and lots of people get shot in the head, or smart traders and people who have lots of money can act as conduits, taking it out of the markets where government bailouts have nowhere else to go and bringing it into the real world, investing it in sustainable human happiness. That's the easiest way that this process can go on peacefully. Imagine if a mere 10% of hedge fund managers decided to donate just half of their monstrous winnings to things like the proliferation of grass-based agriculture, renewable energy, water and transportation infrastructure, sponsoring children to become happy adults instead of desperate potential killers. We're already talking about a couple hundred billion dollars. That alone could make a tremendous difference, if applied intelligently. We can make this happen. We are the ones we've been waiting for.

I changed from being a person hanging on to fear and selfishness to being a person fully embodied with intent to make my life the best it can be and then leverage that to helping everyone I can. If I make 20k shorting Eurodollar Interest Rate Futures, I'll spend half of that sponsoring street kids in Buenos Aires. If I make 200k following silver or natural gas or palladium I'll spend half of that building infrastructure in rural Argentine towns. If I keep winning I'll keep giving more and more until the money itself is worthless.

I couldn't sleep. I just hung out, thinking about what I wanted to do, about the women in my life, about my son, about gentler things than Holy Death. The sun slowly arose. I got about forty minutes of sleep. Then the little girls and their mother returned to administer breakfast. We all sat around and feasted on fresh fruits, on bread with that chocolate-like substance that has no refined sugar in it, on mate and tea. We talked. It was human and divine. With much adieu I left and took the subway back home to write all the things that I had in me to write, to tell my dad that he was a great father, to get back in touch with old friends, to scream to the trading blogs I frequent that the secret is not caring about the numbers and then giving it all away. I saw a poor kid juggling on the subway and I slipped him that 20 peso bill with no fanfare.

Ayahuasca

I could go on an on about my own experience, but I'll save that for another post. The short of it is, I went into the experience with a lot of ideas and came out with precisely zero; and I've never felt cleaner. I am God's anointed one, an ascendant starchild, and you can be too. This isn't about me at all, this is about you, you are a genius and with the right spark you might just realize it. If you want to, here's how you can properly cash in on premature enlightenment for about 80 USD.

1) Detox for one week. All that stuff you put into your body every day to stay sane in an insane city, you gotta get that shit out. Just take it easy, deleverage, no caffeine, no cigarettes, no marijuana, no alcohol, no spicy foods, red meat, fried foods, and take it easy on the refined sugar. Get a little exercise, do thorough stretching, sweat a little. Abstain from sexual activity for the 24 hours before just to have fresh libido. You will need to at least sweep up the temple that is your body.

2) Attend an Ayahuasca ceremony, in Buenos Aires there is a service that produces these ceremonies called Urkumanta. Take of the Ayahuasca.

3) This one is very important, after you imbibe the bitter fluid you need to drink a bit of water and start breathing prana yama. Real slow in through the mouth using the tongue as a suction pump to effortlessly take in air, real slow out through the nose. Just keep at it, don't worry if you're doing it right, you're going to do great. Nice and slow, nice and deep, fill your lungs, focus on the breath. This dispels all nausea and magnifies the beneficial impact.

Do these three things and you will get everything you ever wanted out the treasure vault that is your soul, you will gain a profound appreciation of what you are, what you aren't, why you're here and why you must live for the day for now and forever; you will experience joy more profound than a multi-stacked orgasm with someone you love or the birth of your own child or being born or becoming famous or creating an immortal work of art, and most importantly you will get higher than Holy Fuck.

Its A Re Heavy Life Boludo

What do these three pictures have in common?








They all explain, in a very loose metaphorical kind of way, why we haven't updated in a month and a few monedas. We were living the palatable life here, we got caught up in some Argentina drama, and we got spat out as indigents.

Andy lived in more places in a few weeks than there were Presidents in that couple of weeks in 2001. I found myself carrying everything I owned in a relay for a few blocks to the nearest hostel, making eye contact with a leather faced guy driving a beaten 20-year-old car with a half-shattered windshield and no window pane.

"Es complicado," he said as I tried to stack a fan on top of a wheeled suitcase.

"La vida es," I replied.

At the end of the day you dust off your shoulders, look at your losses and scratches, and say "fuck it, this is Argentina."

Argenhot of the Week !

Oh how I want to be your Romeo, Julieta. That's right, this week's Argenhot of the Week is none other than 28-year-old Porteña sensation Julieta Prandi. She was first discovered at some low-end casting in Martinez in 1998, her senior year of high school (how hot is THAT?), and her career took off from there. She's been on a bunch of garbage TV shows down here making guest appearances, but her true successes came as a bikini and high fashion model. One lil' fun fact you probably didn't know; she has written over 150 poems, due for publication in her own compiled works poetry book later this year. She's also now the co-host of an Argentine TV show called "Zapping". Applaudi per Prandi !!!

La Plata

I´m going to describe my investment strategy that I think could work for other expats, and try keep it simple. Basically, I´m betting on the price of silver going up while also expecting the price real estate to go down. I want to sell silver after some paradigmn changing events come to pass and buy some land from Argentines who are willing to haggle down because they need the money. I think land is the best thing to own provided you´re willing to live on it and do some work with your hands, I think that if you don´t have the freedom to grow your own food, you aren´t really free.

In the spirit of keeping this simple, first the practical stuff, you can get exposure to the price of silver in three ways:

- first you could go to one of the jewelers near Tribunales and ask to buy some plata "para inversion" and they´ll sell you a physical piece of metal, I think everyone hold some physical metal in case all the electronic systems break under the weight of their own fiction. Just think of it as saving money for the long term, the idea is you´d take this down to a bank when banks are in dire need of solid assets and they´d pay you a lot more than you bought it for.

- second, you could buy SLV through a stock account, SLV is an exchange-traded fund that supposedly holds silver, when people buy more shares of the fund the fund buys more silver to keep things level. If you already have a stock trading account, this is an easy thing to do, you don´t have to pay much over the spot price of silver like you would in a jewelry store and you can sell really easily.

- third, you could get really aggressive and play Silver Futures, with leverage! I have an account with OANDA where I can bet with as little as one virtual ounce, if you have a couple hundred bucks or so and you want to work with that, OANDA is your best option. Lets say you have $137 bucks in there with a 10:1 margin, that means you could buy $1370 worth of "silver" and let it ride, if silver goes up 10% from there you´d double your money. If silver increases 5 times over you´d have fifty times your money. If you want your account balance insured and you want an exchange-traded instrument, you should get a Futures account with Tradestation or Interactive Brokers, you´ll need at least 5k, preferably closer to 10k for that. When trading with leverage, you shouldn´t fire off all your ammo at once, buy conservatively on the dips and set orders above prior peaks to automaticallly buy bigger chuncks. I like to use a pyramid pattern, buy 1 chunk, then set an order to buy 4 chunks above a prior peak, then 3 chuncks above the next peak, then 2 above the next, then 1, then let her ride.

Now that I´ve established the how, I´ll address the why.

Basically all the paper money we use is based on fantasy. Money as we know it is a pyramid scheme. Governments go into debt with Central Banks for say, 10 bucks, that 10 bucks is lent out to commercial banks ten times over, so now you´ve got 100 bucks out there, those banks can make a bunch of loans to each other and multiply the money another 10 times, so that 10 bucks is now 1000 bucks. Most money exists electronically, the cash you take out of an ATM is only a small fraction of the money supply, if more than 10% of bank deposits were withdrawn the rest of the money would evaporate. Argentines get this more than Yanquis because it actually happened here, tipo multiple times boludo. So you´ve got this risk of everything imploding all the time, and on the other hand you´ve got this constant pull to keep increasing the money supply with more debt, because the previous debt has interest attached, and that interest has to come from new money to get paid. The pyramid keeps expanding, money gets tied up in paying interest, prices rise.



The peso went into hyperinflation three times in the 80s, 10,000 pesos got stamped as 10 australes, then like a year later 10,000 australes got replaced for 10 pesos, then they did the 1:1 peg with the dollar, which lead to more inflation by 2001, and then the banking system collapsed. People who held gold and silver during this time were able to take it down to the bank and get cash to buy food or pay rent. Paper you can print, metal you can only dig up.

The dollar is the biggest pyramid scheme ever, it has funded uncounted invasions and coups, along with bood jobs, private jets and the purchase of Argentina´s best assets. That scheme, like all others of its kind, will collapse, it is just a matter of when. For decades time was bought for the system by wrangling oil deals with the Saudis, and also by supressing the price of gold and silver so people would buy stocks and Treasury bonds instead. The way that you supress prices is buy selling what you don´t have, called "short selling", big banks that are in arms with the government can short sell without even borrowing the stuff, this is called "naked short selling" even though its mostly hidden.

Usually when you short sell you want to buy at a lower price to even the score and pocket the difference, but if your game is to support a global financial empire, you might just keep these positions open, because buying up enough gold and silver to return what you borrowed would raise the price. If the price of gold gets bought up by hedge funds, Indian wedding planners, scared doctors and redneck survivalists, the US government can just bail out the banks that are short. But the US govt. doesn´t own any silver. Also, silver has a lot of medical and industrial uses, there is less of it than gold, its cheaper so you can buy some even if you only got like 20 bucks, and its historically cheap. In the Roman times 12 ounces of silver got you an ounce of gold, during the British empire the ratio was closer to 20. Right now its like 75 or 80 and the highest the ratio has ever been as 100, when these metals were at their historic lows. Just holding this stuff you´re allowing yourself a 5x return on investment, while gold maybe has 2x in it. Leveraging you could do extremely well, provided you don´t fumble the ball, which is the big "if" with leverage.

Lastly, land right now is fucking ridiculous in Argentina, people are asking fourty dollars per square meter for a small plot in Cordoba last I checked online, something like fifty grand for a whole hectare, if you´re willing to spend close to a million dollars you could get down to like 3k a hectare, but sheesh man, you´d have to be stupidly hopeful to think that all those people are going to sell for those prices. Argentina´s economy goes through these hysterical cycles of shock and awe, crash and boom, wild and wet, not unlike dating an Argentina. Because real estate is the only thing Argentines see as a reliable investment, it tends to react in a delay to this cycle, so while Argentina is already in a recession the quoted real estate is still living in 2005. Once people start really hurting for cash and the flow of foreign currency gets tight, they will lower prices.

Let me put it this way, I´m not trying to predict the future, I´m just trying to ride it. I like people and thats why I´m trying to tell you how to avoid getting thrown off. If things recover and we get iPod living with the growing jobs and all that, cool, adelante, your silver investment won´t go to 0. If we´re in the eye of the global economic hurricane, then you´ll be able to turn your silver investment into enough cash to buy some land at lower prices. Or at least you´ll have some shiny stuff to look at.

Dating Emergency 101: An Argentine Woman's Perspective

by Antonia Cossia

“Oh, yes, I am the great pretender; pretend that I’m doing well. My need is such, I pretend too much; I’m lonely, but no one can tell” -Freddy Mercury


Spare me some of your attention and I will try to explain just how many argentine women have become just as beautiful as sentimentally complex. For most men, falling for one of us can be an amazing experience. Either amazingly wonderful or amazingly rocky.

Most of the complications come because some of us are scared to death to show how we feel, just in case the man in front of us plays us for fools because “we are too easy”, or leaves because “it’s too much” for them. That is, of course, in case they even explain why they’re going away.

Ever since we’re old enough for make up and high heels we have to deal with pretty much the same awkward situations any other girl has to deal with anywhere else in the world: first period, first bra, first date…

There are a few differences when it comes to social pressure: for example, Argentina has one of the highest rates of eating disorder cases, mostly among young women (by that I mean girl from the age of 12 to 18).

When it comes to argentine men, I honestly cannot explain what it is that they have inside their head, so I will not bore you with dull hesitation. Some of them will speak honestly about their feelings, some of the won’t and most of them will say exactly what they don’t want to say, but will say it for the sake of not looking undermined in front of their peers.

Argentine women, on the other end... We cannot make up our mind. Either because we are proud creatures, or highly prejudiced; because of fear, shyness or because we are still hung up on a previous relationship and we are oblivious to the man we have in front of us.

Whatever the reason may seem, a man needs to know patience is always a key to getting where they want to be. We will try and keep you guessing, and create some mystery, and in the end you were either “picked” or not: we knew the answer all along; we were simply making sure you were “worth it”.

Hesitation is our specialty, no doubt about it. I must be honest: no matter how tough we want to show ourselves, we are all just hoping the “gaucho” will eventually use his brains and notice how we could turn the amazingly rocky into amazingly wonderful. Again, it’s all a matter of making sure we won’t be wasting our feelings, our time and so on and so forth.

Found any contradictions yet? I bet you have.


*

E. G. Hesitation, a one act play by an argie-female:

I cannot believe this is happening to me, but it IS happening to me. I am checking my emails every 2 minutes and I am glancing at my msn account every 4 seconds (not joking, situation is critical). I can’t smile, can’t tell jokes and I can barely eat (which is outrageous for my standards).

This never happened to me before, I promise. I’m having second thoughts for the first time in my life: Is he ever going to talk to me again? Does he even care about me? Was this whole “thing” one big fat bogus in my head? Why can’t he just talk to me?!

Funny thing is: I am usually the smart-pants who will either lecture or “pick up the mess” when a guy dumps one of my friends. Yet this time around, I find myself writing about how bad one can feel when things go wrong with someone you particularly cared about.

Let me try and put it in words: I feel… sad, ok, then anxious, the sad again, barely ok, a little less anxious… and sad again. I cry a bit, smile very little, smile a little more… and cry another bit. There is nothing any friend, sister or anyone can tell that will make me feel better. Word.

And by now, I don’t know if I am being stupid, if I was even more stupid in the past, or if he is being a complete bastard because he is not talking to me. Or maybe I disserve it. Now, that cannot be it, right?

See, I messed things up from the start. I let him sweep me of my feet… and then I let my big mouth get in the way. I kept the “just a flirt/just sex” speech far too long, and played along as if nothing meant anything to me other than an occasional meeting.

I was dishonest, but not to him: I cheated on myself by forcing to believe my own speech. I practically ate my own garbage! And I fed him the same thing until he was stuffed and ready to go. Even if he was only in for fun, with all the more reason I should have made it clear I wanted more.

Maybe I still do, but please do not let him know.

All of those “coulda’ shoulda’ woulda’” are completely useless now. They are “Drama Queen” material. And that, ladies and gentlemen, is none other than typical argenhot behaviour.

Lovely feeling, this lovesick thing, right?