Chapter 317 (Honesty & Jehovah Witnesses)
I’m sitting here in Fresh-Fresh in Sosua, reading, writing, eating…and, oh yeah…looking at girls. No, I’m studying girls. I’m basically, for all intent and purposes, sitting in class right now. It’s my favorite class: looking at women and eating…oh yeah, and drinking coffee.
So, here I am, I’ve seen 2, maybe 3 outstanding females walk through the door. One is drop dead gorgeous. One of them even had teeth.
Sitting nearby, are two good looking 50-ish aged women sitting next to the window. There’s also a 25-ish beautiful, no…stunning brunette with cut-off Daisy Duke shorts, summer hat, halter top, and pulling a black dog by a leash.
I’m in love.
I’m sitting here drinking my 20th cup of coffee this morning writing the Mother-of-all-crazy Cabarete stories. I’m sitting here writing a true story about a brothel (House of the Rising Sun) that used to be on the west end of Cabaret about 15 years ago. There’s probably a few older people on here that remember this brothel. It was a house that sat near Viva Tangerine and the Cabarete Coffee Company. It's gone now. I came up one weekend from Bonao and locked myself in this brothel and didn’t emerge for three days. Three strange days. True story.
Anyway, here I am, writing about the sexual escapades of a brothel when--and I’m not making this up--a woman, Jan Braumiller, Brummhaller, Braumhall….something like that, comes over to my table and asks, “Do you speak English?”
“Yes I do!” I answer, looking up at her.
Jan is quite a looker, 50-ish, in great shape, and with bright blue eyes the color of sapphires. She is a beautiful woman, and I bet she was stunning when she was younger…but then, who isn’t stunning when they have tight skin, no wrinkles or grey hair, and possess something known as stomach muscles?
I sit back and study Jan while she talks. Jan has an amazing smile, laughs easily, and now she’s got my full attention as I forget about the Cabarete Brothel for a second.
“Would you like something to read?” she asks.
“Sure, as long as it’s not anything religious,” I answer laughing.
I’ve already read the entire New York Times this morning--from beginning to end. I do this everyday, it takes me about 4 hours. I’ve inherited a lot of crazy habits from my Dominican father, but this is one of the better ones.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” Jan laughs, “Yes, its religious!” she answers, smiling a beautiful smile.
I like her already. I don’t care if she’s religious or not. I don’t care if she’s a foot soldier for Jesus, I like anyone who doesn’t take rejection personally and can laugh easily.
“What denomination are you?” I ask her.
“Jehovah Witness.”
“But of course you are.” I answer.
I should know this. The Jehovah Witness Kingdom Hall is right down the street. You can literally throw a rock from Fresh-Fresh and hit their Kingdom Hall. It’s that close. I used to try and pick up Jehovah Witness girls all the time. No luck. You have a better chance of breaking into Fort Knox Bank than getting into the pants of any Jehovah Witness females down here.
“I like to hand out Watchtower magazines,” Jan says to me.
“I know. I have a couple friends here who are Jehovah Witnesses. They attend the Kingdom Hall; Chuck & Ronda Gorenc Janicki, maybe you know them? They’re from Erie, PA, but have a house here in Cabarete.”
“Oh, yeah, I know them, they live near the coffee shop in Cabarete, right?”
“Yep, that’s them.”
“Yes, I know them.”
“My name is Frank. I work in O’Shay’s. I’ve seen a lot of Watchtower magazines on our bar. Very colorful.”
“I used to bring Watchtower magazines to a man that worked O'Shays.”
“So, where do you live now, Jan?”
“Perla Marina.”
“Where in Perla Marina do you live?” I ask.
“Near the president/director’s house, He’s British, do you know him?”
“Mr. Wade?”
“Yes, exactly.”
“No, I’m sorry, I don’t him.”
“We’re trying to sell our Villa right now. We’re from Nova Scotia. My husband is a builder.”
I nod and listen to Jan talk. She’s beautiful. No, stunning. And nice. And friendly. I like her already and I don’t even know her. As she continues talking about her husband and her Villa inside Perla Marina, I wonder if she has any daughters? While she goes on about her Villa, what I really want to know is this: does Jan have any good looking daughters that both look like their mother and like to throw their legs up to Jesus?
Jan continues on about her husband. I have to figure out a way to try and ask her about any daughters she has without giving away my agenda here. You can never let people read into your agenda too fast. I continue listening to Jan. I wonder...does Jan have any sexy daughters into sex living here? I know, I'm sick. But look, I’m no different than any other male listening to a beautiful woman go on about their wonderful, fabulous life and devotion to Jesus Christ.
I sit back and study Jan. Of course, I can’t just come out say, “Hey Jan, you know, i was wondering...do you have any beautiful daughters that are into kinky sex?”
No, of course not. I can't say this. I know that. I’m not crazy! You can’t ask direct questions like this for the simple reason that no religious person is going to entertain that kind of direct insanity.
Whenever religious people encounter direct honesty about sex, they put their defenses up. A wall comes up. As soon as a religious person encounters honest talk about sex, sexual situations, sexual attractions, or favorite sexual positions, they mistake it as insanity.
And this is the thing about honesty…few people possess it.
We filter everything we say. Few people in this world are 100% honest. Almost no one says exactly what’s on their mind. Few people tell you exactly what they’re thinking. Nearly everyone “filters” their responses and answers. Nearly everyone filters their questions. I can’t do this. I have never been able to “filter” anything. My filter is broken. I was dropped on my head when i was a child.
This is why almost no religious person you meet is truly honest. They don’t tell you exactly what they're thinking unless they’re crazy. Only a crazy person will look you in the eye and talk to you about "Virgin Births," "Resurrection of dead people (Jesus)," "Walking on water," and oh yeah...something about a wooden boat that carried two of every single animal in the entire world for 40 days while hiding Dinosaur & marsupial bones in select places, and still keep a straight face.
Unfortunately, I have never met a truly fundamentalist religious person who liked me. And the reason why is simple: Religious people hate direct honest discussions about oral sex, miracles, lubricants, and porn.
Jan’s second question to me was this: “Do you like to read?”
My answer was straight forward, “Yes, as long as it’s not Religious materiel!”
She laughed at my honesty. You seldom see this kind of direct honesty from people. Everyone is afraid of offending someone. Everyone is afraid of making enemies. We’re all raised and indoctrinated to try and appease everyone around us. We're trained to be polite to everyone--no matter how illogical they are. We’re raised to accommodate everyone’s opinion--no matter how insane it is. Few people in this world will answer a question honestly knowing that their answer has the potential of both hurting and offending someone. So instead, we play it safe. We say things that we know people want to hear. We filter our responses.
Everyone plays it safe.
I didn’t have time to ask Jan about any good looking daughters she might have. So, Jan, if you see this, one question: “Do you have any good looking Jehovah Witness daughters that look like you?”
. Take action man, it's more entertaining.
