Joseph Itiel's Weblog

A few days ago I reviewed many of the critiques of my books. Quite a few reviewers make the point that the author (that's me) has a compulsion to pay for sexual services. They are saying that I chose this method of obtaining sex, just as the homophobes accuse us of choosing to be gay. How can I make it crystal clear that when I was in my twenties, with hardly any money to my name, I did not make up my mind that paying for sex was the best method to pick up sexual partners? Added to this is the assertion of quite a few reviewers that I went to third-world countries where the erstwhile dollar would buy sex cheaply.

Yes, now I am convinced that it is the best method for me to find what I want and get friendship thrown in. Of course, I resisted this option for many years and, in any case, could not afford to avail myself of these services very often, because I didn't have the wherewithal.

When I arrived in New York City at the age of 19, I was completely ignorant of where one encountered other homosexuals. (I am not even sure that the noun "gay" was used then, and I assumed that there were very few of us. For all I knew, there were no other such creatures as myself in New York!) I wrote a story about my first experience, "The Hurly Burly"(My First Time, Alyson Publications, 1995). Finally, I met a student my age, at Riverside Drive, a park by the Hudson River. Of course I didn't pay him (where would I have gotten the money from?) and I was certain that it was my last time to be with a man.
I had no idea that there were other places besides parks where one could cruise. In the parks, I chose whoever was available and somewhat presentable, if he was willing to take me to his home. I was too closeted to bring someone to my little student room.

Moving from New York to Toronto after obtaining my BA, I did even worse. The very long Canadian winter is not a practical time to spend in the parks! With great trepidation I went from time to time to Queens Park to pick up another man. Rarely did I find someone. When I did, we were not necessarily each other's type, but it was the best thing we could do.

Then, in 1957, with less than $300 to my name, I found myself in Monterrey, Mexico, on the way to the capital. Unlike Toronto, the climate in January there was balmy and walking in the park was pleasurable. I was attracted to quite a few people but I had no Spanish. Eventually, a young guy who understood some English picked me up. I invited him to my hotel – the room cost less than a dollar – and before anything happened he told me a convoluted story about his great need for money. The sum he wanted was the equivalent of two dollars. He seemed to like me, I wasn't quite sure why, but he wanted me to pay for making love. Since finally I had met someone I genuinely fancied, I paid his fee.

When I made it to the capital, Mexico D.F., I was almost always asked for money. On top of it, men who were policemen, or pretended to be such, asked the cruisers for the famous Mexican mordida (bribe). The funny thing was that Mexico, under the Napoleonic code, unlike Canada, had no laws against homosexuality. But the bribe was and is the cost of doing business in Mexico. By then I had a job and I could pay it. For the first time in my life, I started enjoying my gay forays. The money given to my partners and the cops was a quaint way of finding sex, but it was better than picking up for free in other countries men I didn't care for.

After a few months I had to leave the country because I was working there illegally. With a suitable bribe, everybody was cordial to me as they stamped my passport and took my expired papers.

By chance, upon returning to Toronto, I found a nest of hustlers. By that time I was schooled enough to understand that I had to pay for my pleasure. But, unlike the parks, I could pick and choose. As compared to Mexico, in Canada they asked for much more money. I had to budget myself. All the more so because the hustlers wanted to see me as often as posible, which tempted me all the more. Remarkably, we actually liked each other!

During the summer months, when I didn't have to work, I went again and again to Mexico. There I could have sex often for very little money. Later on, I went to other countries, like the Philippines, where purchased sex was even cheaper.
Only many years later, when I started writing travel books, did I inform readers that prices (including sexual favors) were more reasonable in third world countries. But that was part and parcel of my narration. Meals, hotels, and transportation were also much cheaper. A travel writer must give such information. I have yet to read a travel book that fails to mention how, for example, Iceland is more expensive than most European countries.

There is one more advantage to sex workers' relationships in poorer countries. The guys one meets have a lot of free time on their hands. I spent a month in the Philippines writing a book about this country. The publisher paid all my expenses and I traveled in style. In Manila, I hired a CB (call boy, as they are known there) in the main park to accompany me for a month. I didn't pay him (except for gifts) but from abject poverty he found himself in five-star hotels. By far, his behavior in the unfamiliar surroundings was much more refined than mine. He turned out to be a good companion and quite helpful. No way could I do that in a country that offers living wages or unemployment pay to its citizens. Many men appreciate good company as much as an outstanding physical relationship.

Some ten years ago I traveled to Oaxaca in Mexico, a city known for its beautiful handicrafts. I planned on buying a bedcover there. The bedcover I purchased was pretty and much cheaper than I could have gotten in San Francisco. Of course, the inexpensiveness of the item was a result of the cheaper labor in Mexico. The pretty and cheap handicrafts draw tourists to that city. Did I exploit the people of Oaxca? Should I have failed to mention this in a travel article?

Labels: Sex Tourism