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Lip Pointing with Manny Pacquiao vs. Ray Rice

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Here’s how our weekend went:

It was Saturday and I knew it was bound to be a crazy one. My son was going off to college as a Freshman and my emotions were mixed; between sadness about my little boy leaving home; and unbridled ecstasy about my little boy leaving home. The plan was to get up early, have breakfast, pack the car to the brim, and take off for the two hour drive to his new life.

I got up and volunteered to make breakfast so that Janet could get up and eat with us and say her goodbyes (“regards” in the Philippines). I’m a lousy cook but managed to rustle up a bunch of eggs, bacon and toast and didn’t burn any of it, which was a very good sign for the day ahead.

Janet stumbled out to breakfast. My son wasn’t nearly ready, so the two of us sat down to eat. That’s when I noticed her eye…

Let me go back a moment and tell you that Janet is a very sensitive young woman – physically. I mean if she comes within an inch of brushing the dining room table the next day there is a large bruise. She works in a store and comes home almost daily with bruises on her arms and the occasional burn. I implore her to deal with these accidents at the time they happen but I think she just knows herself well enough to blow it off.

But Saturday morning across from the breakfast table as I glanced at her normally pretty face I saw a good sized mouse under her eye. “What happened to your eye?” I asked shocked. She didn’t have a clue what I was taking about. “You have a black eye,” I exclaimed. “Did you bang your eye?”

She assured me she hadn’t but then said, “I did cry a little bit last night.” She was missing her family and some tears did fall.

“Crying should not cause a black eye,” I said still shocked at how she looked. “Does it hurt?” I asked. She shrugged, still not really comprehending my concern.

Finally she giggled. “Well, I guess I’ll have to tell everyone you hit me.”

“What! That is not what you want to say in the U.S. And the last place you want to joke about being hit is in Portland, Oregon – and certainly not this week.”

“Why not?” She genuinely appeared confused.

“Because it’s a terrible thing to do to a woman – to anyone. And this week there’s Ray Rice.” I was sure she didn’t know about that.

“You know I would never hit you, right? I have never ever hit a woman.”

It took me a few terrified minutes to explain the trouble I would be in if anyone believed such a joke. “The cops would haul me off and throw away the key.”

“I’d just tell them it was a joke,” she calmly said.

“You don’t understand. They would assume you were lying, trying to get me out. People take this sort of thing very very seriously here.” I added, “…And for very good reason,” just to emphasize that I was a liberal, good guy who would never consider hitting a woman.

“I mean Roger Goodell’s gonna lose his job over Ray Rice and he wasn’t even in the elevator.”

“I mean Roger Goodell’s gonna lose his job over Ray Rice and he wasn’t even in the elevator.”

Janet looked at me clueless but agreed that she would not mention that I’d hit her. She then asked me about who this Ray Rice was and excitedly asked if she could see the video.

Her plan in my absence was to go out with her best friend. For a moment I considered emailing the friend to assure her I had nothing to do with the eye, but before I could deal with that my son came upstairs, we packed the car and took off.
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In the afternoon, after I’d gotten back home Janet texted me asking if I’d like to meet them. I walked over in the hot afternoon sun. After we greeted each other, I asked Janet’s Filipina friend if Janet had told her about the eye. “Yes,” she said. “My husband one time rolled over in bed and kicked me hard. So it can happen.”

“I didn’t kick her and didn’t give her the black eye!” I exclaimed frustrated but finally laughing at the absurdity.

Now, this concerns me and not just for my near brush with the law. Janet is a very honest person and Filipinas often filter their conversation to save face, or at least expect you to filter what you say. While out in public she sometimes shushes me or scolds me for pointing.

But in fact she has much less of a filter than I do and there are many things she says that she does not realize you cannot say in the U.S. We may be out in public and she will get my attention and motion toward someone and say “she’s ugly,” or “he has a very long nose.” Cleanliness if very important in the Philippines and one of the worst things you can say about someone is that he/she is not clean, yet Janet has no problem motioning toward someone and indicating the person “is dirty.”

lips

Of course in the Philippines no one points to anyone like we rude Americans do. Janet raises her eyebrows or points with her lips, as is the Philippines custom. I know her well enough to know she’s motioning toward something or someone and probably not in a good way.

“You shouldn’t say she is dirty,” I will admonish.

“But she is.”

“True, but people here take such comments very seriously.”

“Then she should clean herself better.”

Janet works with the public and is well liked by her employer, so I assume she hasn’t offended any customers. But as a new husband I worry that she might cause herself troubles because of cultural misunderstandings.

“Just be careful. Someone may hear you and take offense. And you’re smaller than most American women.”

“I will kick them,” she replies and I am reminded that she’s a lot tougher than she looks.

—–

On Sunday Janet and I did our weekly grocery shopping followed by a trip to her favorite Asian store. They sell lechon on Sundays and I had promised her some. We were checking out the fish section when we saw Janet’s BFF from the day before and her husband, also there for the lechon, fish and live crabs. Next thing I knew they’d invited us to dinner and the women were organizing a feast. Janet spent the afternoon baking bread. Around 5:00 I asked, “So when are we supposed to go over there for dinner?”

“Oh, they are coming here. Our grill is better than theirs.”

“No problem,” I said by now immune to changes in plans. “But I guess I’d better go out and clean the grill.”

“You didn’t clean the grill yet?”

“No, of course not. How was I suppose to know…” I caught myself and laughed.

It’s more fun in the Philippines or in the West with a Filipina.

Blog

Liar, Liar

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Everywhere I turn I see and hear all about lying Filipinos and Filipinas. “They are all liars,” goes the standard expat mantra. It’s taken me a few years of hearing this over and over, but at this point I’m pissed. I know, I know – I’m a bit slow. My kids know it, my wife knows it and now you all know it. I may be slow, but I come from behind and catch up with a vengeance.

Lying in the Philippines takes on all varieties, according to the many expats and tourists. Of course girls online all lie. Their families all lie. Cabbies all lie. Salesman and service providers all lie. And, believe it or not, there are many men who proclaim that their Filipina wives, some of whom have been great wives for decades – all lie. There’s a special term in the Philippines that describes foreign husbands who claim their wives to be less than honest – horny.

My indignation came to a head just this week. Reading my favorite expat forum a question was posed. Seems a well-meaning poster received a massage in the Philippines; no not that kind of massage – get your head out of the gutter. Massage and massage therapy is everywhere in Asia and the price is dirt cheap. It’s easy in the Philippines to get a one hour massage for $5.

Well, in this case it seems that the lady struck up a conversation with the customer and told him her tale of woe about the hardships in her life and with her family. Frankly, this could never happen with me. When I get a massage I start to moan in such a way that – well, she’d know better than to talk to me.

But in this case the customer felt so bad he wondered if he should “help” the poor woman and he posed that question to the assembled wisdom of the forum. Many of the comments were of the “they are all liars and scammers” sort of thing. I came in with what was clearly the most reasonable response; that he had already helped her by paying for a massage and tipping her. In addition, I pointed out that service providers the world over “stretch” the truth; it’s called angling for a tip. Your favorite waiter is not gonna tell you he cleared $60k last year in tips; he’s gonna tell you that his oldest just started college and it’s costing a fortune.

So, the man felt compelled to act but first he investigated the woman’s story. He found that her claims of woe, while not complete lies, were only partial truths. By the end of the thread he was on the side of many of the others; that “they” are mostly liars and scammers. I felt saddened that he’d gone from wanting to help her, to determining that she was a liar, to deciding that many Filipinos are liars.

dr-house-everybody-lies

Now don’t get me wrong; I’m not proclaiming that Filipinos are the most honest people on the planet. My view is simple – to quote House MD, “everybody lies.” Anyone who says he doesn’t – just proved my point.

“Liar, Liar” is my favorite Jim Carrey movie and if you haven’t seen it you should go right out and rent it or illegally download it – I’ll lie to cover your ass. In it, Carrey plays a lawyer; not a bad sort, just a regular guy who has a way of bending the truth beyond recognition. His young son makes a wish that for just one day his dad won’t be able to tell a lie. Hilarity ensues. Carrey, physically incapable of lying, discovers that you simply cannot live in the adult world without lying. “Do you like my hairdo?” asks the secretary with the worst hairdo in Hollywood. He can no longer lie.

In court when the judge greets him and asks how he is, Carrey truthfully tells the judge about a “bad sexual experience,” he’d just had.

He calls a senior partner a “dickhead” because, well – that’s what the man is.

The products are prepared with sildenafil citrate, which acts like a canadian levitra which will be truly helpful and cost-effective. People should also reveal their medical history to the doctor if any of these side effects remain for a longer time and become bothersome.PRECAUTIONS :Drinking alcohol can temporarily impair the ability to get soft cialis pills hard state of male reproductive organ.Corpora cavernosa tissue and nerves of penile area enable erection, when the veins of the region block in blood, getting the male phallus very hard. One order viagra india medicine at one time should be the medication pattern so if you are having any other medicine for male impotence. Post that, when unica-web.com viagra 5mg the man gets intimate with his partner, he doesn’t have the potential to get engaged into intercourse. The problem with lying is – it’s easier to see it in others than in ourselves. Surely, in the U.S. when you greet someone and you each ask how the other is and then rapid fire, each says “fine, how about you” – it’s just a social convention. It’s not really a lie – unless you’re Jim Carrey confronted by a fat lawyer asking “What’s up?” Answer, “Your cholesterol, fattie.”

Let’s face it – we lie all the time but justify it because we cannot survive in society without lying. We lie to protect ourselves, to protect our loved ones, to protect feelings. We lie to protect our jobs; anyone want to tell their clients what they really think of them?

We lie in every negotiation. The salesman lies, “this is my lowest possible price.” The buyer lies, “this is the most I can possibly pay.” We all justify that those aren’t really lies; they’re negotiating strategies.

In short, lying is not only universal, it’s cultural. Go to the Philippines and ask that friend “how are you?” and instead of the required lie, “I’m fine,” he is actually liable to tell you how he really is. Or he will turn it around and only want to know how you are.

If you’re anal like me, just take one day out of your life and track what you say and how many lies, white lies and half-truths are involved. The number will astound you – if you are truthful with yourself, which most of you won’t be.

The same can be said for the “they’re all scammers” crowd. I mean, after all, you arrived in Cebu and got beat by a cabbie out of an extra 100 pesos ($2.50). The girl you thought you liked asked you for 1000 pesos ($25) for medicine for her mother. Mom doesn’t need the medicine and you feel cheated.

Of course, you don’t feel cheated in the U.S. when that plumber or electrical guy came to your house and charged you $400 for 1 1/2 hours worth of work. He didn’t cheat you; he told you straight up it was gonna cost you an arm and a leg and you’d best fork it over or call someone else who’ll charge even more.

Today I read a financial story that said that over the past 10 years U.S. Corporations had spent over 54% of their corporate profits on what? Investing? Nope. R&D? Nope. They spend over 50% of their profits buying back their own stock. Why do they buy their own stock? So that the stock price goes up. Who benefits? The CEOs, boards of directors, and general fat cats who own tens of millions in stock options. But that’s not scamming because, hey, you have a couple grand in your 401k, so you benefited, right? It’s certainly not a scam as egregious as that damn Filipino cabbie who beat you out of the 100 pesos.

So when it comes to being married to a Filipina, which is supposedly the theme of this blog, what’s the point. Once again I’ll make a movie reference. I re-watched “A beautiful Mind” last week. The Oscar winning story of John Nash, Nobel prize willing economist and schizophrenic. There’s a great scene (hopefully not a lie – I sure would like to trust director, Ron Howard; he was “Opie” after all) in which Nash discovers the theorem for which he won the Nobel.

He’s in a bar, where all great discoveries are made, checking out girls (don’t you love this guy). He and his friends all want “the blonde.” Adam Smith, the founder of modern economics, 200 years before postulated that group dynamics work best when each member of the group does what benefits himself, which in this case would have meant that everyone goes for the blonde. Nash realized that Adam Smith was wrong; that the best outcome occurs when each individual works for himself plus the group as a whole. In this case, ignore the blonde, and hit on all her brunette friends.

How does this relate to a Fil-Am marriage? For thousands of years men and women have lied to each other to get their own way in relationships. If I believe Nash, the best outcome happens if each person does what’s best for him/her as well as what’s best for the couple. So you’re heard it here first – the secret to a successful marriage; from a guy twice divorced and a mentally ill economist.

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Can Comicbook Guy Marry in the Philippines?

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The Philippines expat community is in an uproar and if you are familiar with some of these serious-minded men you know some serious shit must be happening.

Turns out there is a proposed bill in the Philippines legislature that might make it harder for a “foreigner” to marry a Filipina, at least within the Philippines and it’s got some expats quaking in their flip flops.

The bill is sponsored by Cebu Rep. Gwendolyn F. Garcia, who described her measure as a protection against “vagabonds or social and moral derelicts in their own country whose real motive is to abuse Filipino women…to take advantage and exploit our women by making them work for the family and worse, by sending them to prostitution and other degrading and dehumanizing occupations.”

“The exploitation of our Filipino women, through the so-called mail-order or pen-pal, Facebook, website-made, and other internet-made marriages, has not only caused untold miseries and suffering to our Filipino women but it has also brought dishonor and disgrace to the Filipino womanhood,” she said.

Note to self: Don’t disgrace or dishonor Filipino womanhood anymore by asking Janet what she’d like to make for dinner.

Note to self: Don’t disgrace or dishonor Filipino womanhood anymore by asking Janet what she’d like to make for dinner.

If the bill passes they are actually going to require the foreigner husband-to-be to document his income and prove that he is of good moral character.

The uproar among the expats mainly has to do with several areas of distress:

1. Distrust of government. Well, this is a generally good, libertarian type stance, I suppose. The Philippines Government ought to stay out of personal affairs whenever possible (ours certainly does :)), although potential charges of degradation and prostitution is somewhere I expect governments to be very involved – as an equal partner. In this case the guys were more worried that the estimated cost of said documents (1000 pesos = approx. $25) is just one more area where those thieves in Manila are ripping off poor foreigners who can already barely afford their daily ration of San Miguel.

2. That many of the guys in question don’t know what the term “good moral character” means, nor where to buy the document that says they have it.

3. That there is a general lack of respect for foreigners living in the Philippines, many of whom, hard to believe, are viewed as sex tourists. See the above “good moral character” definition.

4. General confusion because no one has used the word vagabond in fifty years and most guys think it has something to do with hitchhikers or backpakers. OTOH, most of the guys didn’t object to the use of the work derelict, which they assumed is used to accurately reflect their drinking habits.

 —–

Since I am already married to my darling Janet and didn’t marry in the Philippines, the proposed law isn’t a big issue for me. But if all my brethren are up in arms than I figure that I had better investigate for the good of the order. Now where’s my bottle opener…

In the midst of my extensive investigation, coincidentally Janet asked me if I was aware of the bill. “Yes, I heard about it. Thank goodness we got married before I had to verify my moral character. And who knew that I was only interested in destroying Filipino womanhood.”

I did finally get around to asking her what she thought of the bill, since after all it would, at least in theory, make it harder for a couple like us to marry.

“I think it’s good,” she replied. “Many foreigners don’t take care of their wives, use them only as maids or treat them like sex slaves.” I may be a bit paranoid, but I didn’t like the look she gave me as she described these ne’er do well foreigner husbands.

“I don’t treat you like a maid,” I replied giggling. She gave me “the look.”

I am also aware that just as the expats are constantly sharing stories of the occasional bad Filipina wife, usually involving murder by bolo, Filipinas are often sharing stories about bad foreigner husbands. Janet often shares these internet stories usually asking me, “Did you hear about this foreigner who sold his wife into slavery in Iowa?”

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It took me about a day to complete my attitude adjustment. Apparently I hadn’t drunk enough San Miguels.

So let’s consider the outcome of the proposed law. Of course the following assumes the law passes and furthermore assumes it is thoroughly enforced; and when does that happen? But assuming both conditions, what might happen to Fil-Am marriages in the Philippines?

The guy who promises his girl that he is a rich kano with a $100k job who can take care of her for life, take care of her kids, take care of her family, the neighbors, hell the whole barangay is discovered to be an unemployed phone solicitor with a bank balance of -$127.

The guy who swears to his girl that he has never been married is found to have been married twice and was never exactly divorced – from either wife.

The guy who loves children and can’t wait to have another one with his Filipina fiancé, owes child support dating back to the Clinton administration.

The guy who claims he can retire early in the Philippines due to his business acumen, owes the IRS $250k in back taxes.

The guy who is highly moral and religious and attends mass weekly with his FIlipina, is wanted in five states and by the Feds for grand larceny, racketeering and transporting a white fish across state lines. OK, I stole the white fish bit from Woody Allen – always loved that line. I guess that thievery means I wouldn’t pass the Philippines requirements either.

Not that any of these guys are vagabonds or derelicts. They’re just living the good life in the Philippines.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Blog, Story

How to Find a Philippines Mentor

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Humor Alert: Sorry but there isn’t much. This is a subject I’m serious about, emotional even. I’ll make up for it next time, I promise.

I see and hear about all kinds of guys who go to the Philippines and hate it. Of course tastes aren’t universal and not everyone loves 90 degree heat and 90% humidity as much as I do, so maybe I can’t blame them. White sand and cheap beer is overrated – if you’re a priest or mental case. But when they complain about the women, say they can’t find a good one, say they’re all dumb, and worse still, claim they are all unattractive – well then I scratch my head and wonder whether we visited the same country – or live on the same planet.

Not to be indelicate, but if you are a single Westerner and take an extended trip to the Philippines, or a short trip; hell, even if you do a 10-hour layover, and can’t find a youngish, sweet, bright, fun, and attractive girl to spend time with – then there is something seriously wrong with you, probably either involving mental illness or the fact that you’ve recently passed away and no one’s bothered to tell you.

…if you are a single Westerner and take an extended trip to the Philippines, or a short trip; hell, even if you do a 10-hour layover, and can’t find a youngish, sweet, bright, fun, and attractive girl to spend time with – then there is something seriously wrong with you…

While it seems very easy to me and many of my friends, since it’s not easy for everyone I searched my mind for solutions and finally realized one of the main differences between success and failure; I found a good mentor and most don’t. Here’s my mentor story and how you can find one too.

First let’s talk about why you need a true mentor in the Philippines:

Going to the Philippines and figuring you’ll run into a fellow Westerner who will give you the lay of the land is not a wise idea. Most expats living in the Philippines are either old and cranky (that is older and crankier than I am); drunks; evading the authorities, their ex-wife or their drug dealer back home; or make their living as professional whore mongers. “But Dave, you say that like it’s a bad thing,” I hear you all saying. Point being if you meet a fellow Westerner and sit down for a San Miguel and friendly chat on life in the Philippines, the guy may have no more in common with you than the average inmate in San Quentin, and may well have once resided in a comparable federal facility.

Let’s say you meet a guy (in person or online) who isn’t too bad; he’s long-nosed and white, speaks with your accent, is articulate and doesn’t appear to be a total drunk or evading the law. Does that make him a good mentor? Not necessarily.

I know a well-educated guy living in Manila, who can tell you in great detail every aspect of every girlie bar in EDSA, which is fine if you are interested in finding a bar girl in Manila (and BTW, if you need a mentor for that, you’re beyond hope) but who defines a long-term relationship as “she spent the night.” The point is, you have to find someone on the same page as you. Which means you have to genuinely know yourself well enough to know what you want. Wife, girlfriend, temporary girlfriend, very very temporary girlfriend, catcher’s mitt? Are you interested in the big cities (Manila, Cebu), smaller cities, or provinces? Are you young, middle-aged, old as me, or living in an intensive care unit? Well, you get the idea. While a guy with different goals than you might provide some valuable information, he’s not gonna be a proper mentor to you.

I found my mentor through a circuitous route. As in all modern research methodologies, several years ago I turned to the Internet to find out the best way to discover the joys of foreign women. It led me to a couple of men’s forums. There I chatted with a guy who led me to yet another forum, specifically on living and meeting women abroad. He told me, “the owner of the forum’s nuts, but there is some good information there.”

I visited said forum and found a ton of information, some even useful, and a cast of characters that would fit right in with a pornographic version of One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest.
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In reading between the lines, there were two guys who appeared to be slightly less deranged than the forum owner and his minions. I contacted both. Turns out that one, Pete, lives a couple hours from me. We connected quickly; as I said above finding someone with similar interests is important. Pete had been married quite a while to his Filipina wife, Cathy, and came off as a very happy guy. He immediately encouraged me to join Cherry Blossoms as a paid member, as he had done years before.

He patiently answered all my questions, which looking back were mostly lame and novice, with genuine enthusiasm for the journey I was beginning. A month later he told me that he and Cathy would be coming though my city and asked if I wanted to meet for lunch. I jumped at the opportunity.

At lunch, the main thing I noticed (other than the fact that Cathy was very attractive) was that even after nearly ten years together they seemed as close as newlyweds; holding hands, cuddling next to each other. I remember having an intense feeling of envy but that feeling reinforced the fact that I was going in the right direction and wanted exactly what Pete had. Well, not exactly; Cathy was taken and Pete’s a lot bigger than me.

Pete stuck with me all the way. I made a mistake or two, which I have documented in other blog postings. But each time he’d guide me in the right direction, confident that I could do it. He was a friend, guide and cheerleader all rolled up into one.

Funny thing is that almost no one else on the forum took him up on his offer to guide them. Perhaps this is men’s nature; the “I can do it myself” male ego. Lucky I was a bit more open.

Two years later, after trials, tribulations and with great excitement, Janet arrived. Not long after, Pete and Cathy came through town and the four of us met over dinner. Janet and Cathy bonded immediately.

Due to the K-1 Visa requirements and our own excitement, our wedding was put together quickly and was to be held in the garden of our neighbor. Since Janet’s family could, of course, not attend I asked her who she might like to walk her down the aisle and without hesitation she responded, “Pete.”

Pete walking Janet

Pete – if you’re reading this – well my words of gratitude seem inadequate. Janet and I owe you so much and I hope our friendship to be a lifelong one.

So guys, if you’re searching for the right girl, find the right guide. They are out there and willing to help. Even Pete and I might lend a hand.

Blog

Viagra Babies and My Impending Dotage and Demise

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When I started this blog I promised it would be irreverent and funny and occasionally informative. Well, today it’s time for some information, though first you’ll have to slog through the other crap.

Last night I was eating dinner with my 18-year old son. We’re talking about some serious stuff mostly regarding his upcoming entry into college and the excitement of leaving home for his next adventure in life. Finally out of the blue he asks, “How much does a funeral cost?” Was he worried about my impending demise, I wondered? Not exactly. He was worried about how much he would have to pay. “After all, mom (my ex) is not gonna pay for it,” he told me.

I thanked him for his concern and assured him I had a good year or two left and then told him honestly that Janet knew my wishes and I did not want a funeral; just to be cremated. “So, how much does an urn cost?” he asked. I considered showing him the final scene from The Big Lebowski, where the Dude and Walter get a coffee can from Ralph’s to carry Donnie’s final remains (and the consequences of that action) but decided that I at least deserved more than a Ralph’s coffee can.

“Urns come in all prices,” I finally said and then assured him that my “estate” could probably manage the cost of an urn.

————

About a week ago I was talking to Janet. She was half joking and said, “You must take good care of me now while you are young because I will be taking care of you in the future.” Once again I assured her that was going to be far into the future, but as a dutiful husband I also assured her I would take care of her now. I also thanked her for the “young” lie.

But this whole age thing is really weird because of the incongruity in my life and marriage. After all, I am 61 which by many standards ain’t exactly young. Frankly, I’m not sure I can even get away with calling myself middle-aged any more. I am constantly referred to as “the old guy” at work. OK, truth be told I used to be referred to as “the old guy.” Now, I suspect I am referred to as the “old guy with the hot and inappropriately young wife.”

And yes, said wife is 26 and in many ways I get to watch her begin adult life, learning about her environment, and the workaday world, in total contrast to my plans to end my foray into the workaday world.

And of course Janet talks often about children. Most of my peers have grandchildren to bounce around and then get rid of at the end of the day. We’re trying to determine how and when to have our own, and whether my hernia will hold up.

And this is really where it gets strange because I believe I have to try to think and act young all the while acknowledging that other reality. You have to balance both realities, while, as the cliche goes, living for today.

This reminds me of a story from my friend Jim. I hope he’ll forgive me for stealing it.
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I was meeting with Jim weekly over beers telling him of my escapades in the Philippines, and of my then girlfriend, Janet. I was encouraging him to check it out. It took some convincing, as well as several chat sessions with a cute Pinay, who was to eventually become his wife, but finally Jim visited the Philippines. He returned to the U.S. and soon after went to a bar to meet a few friends. Arriving a bit late he found his buddies involved in a not so lively discussion – on burial plots. Apparently they hadn’t seen The Big Lebowski. Sizing the morbid situation up he told them, “Here’s what I’m up to,” and pulled out a picture of his hot girlfriend. The burial plot conversation ended.

I don’t know what my point is here exactly. I suppose at my age you can discuss burial plots, funerals and urns or marry a cute Filipina. I know what I chose to do.

————

BTW, to add to the old age theme here, yesterday I was on the phone with Social Security. I have the week off from work and one of the exciting things on my list of things to do was to call Social Security and ask them a few questions and confirm a couple bits of information that I thought I knew. You can’t get much older sounding than to fill your day with a lighthearted call to the Social Security office.

One of those bits of information I confirmed is what some cynical financial planners now call the Viagra Child Plan. It’s a lesser known clause contained in the Social Security bucket. So get ready for the informative stuff!

One of those bits of information I confirmed is what some cynical financial planners now call the Viagra Child Plan. It’s a lesser known clause contained in the Social Security bucket.

Here’s how it works:

If a man or woman begins to collect Social Security retirement benefits, whether at age 62 or beyond, and that said old geezer has a minor child, that child gets the equivalent of 1/2 the codger’s Social Security payment. The child in question can be a natural child, adopted or step-child; doesn’t matter. I am fairly confident that the framers of the Social Security system did not have in mind old farts like me marrying 26-year old Filipinas and then having babies, but what the hell. So the point is, when I begin Social Security retirement benefits, at whatever age, if Janet and I have a young child, that child will receive payments from our friends in the Federal government until he/she is 18 or 19. Isn’t democracy wonderful!

Our plan regarding the money is simple and responsible; we’re going to take those checks and place the money on black at Caeser’s in Vegas! No, no, no. Actually we will put it in a fund for education. That way, whether I am alive or not our child at age 18 will be able to afford college or a cup of coffee, whichever is then cheaper. Or possibly it might pay for my urn.

BTW, once you reach age 61 you will find that you are inundated by invitations to go to free dinners where they discuss your impending Social Security windfall and financial planning. Janet and I went to one. There were about twenty couples in the room and let’s just say, we were unique. The fortyish financial planner went over a large number of Social Security strategies and their ramifications before mentioning the Viagra Strategy. After explaining it, wiseass that I am, I raised my hand and asked if I still got the benefit even if I didn’t use Viagra.

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And They Said It Wouldn’t Last

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Janet and I are just about at our one year anniversary. No, not our wedding anniversary which happens in September, but the one year anniversary of Janet arriving here in Portland and the United States. It’s been a great adventure and we’ve learned a lot, not only about each other but about our respective countries. Here’s a few things we’ve learned:

There are poor, homeless people in the U.S. Yes, it’s true. Coming from the Philippines, where Filipinas are taught that all Americans are rich, it shocked Janet that there are homeless, hungry, and very poor people living here. How can a country as rich as ours have people living on the streets? Frankly, it baffles me too and I can’t explain it to her. It’s outside my scope of experience.

OK, there was the time when I was young and homeless in Santa Cruz, CA, but I was crashing on the beach so that sort of doesn’t count. At least I had the ocean to bathe in.

Why does a hard working girl like Janet earn less than 1/10th of what her lazy-assed husband makes? With no real knowledge of Keynesian economics I can’t explain the relationship between work and compensation. Maybe if I were Milton Friedman…but then I’d be dead. So instead of trying to explain it, we’ve just decided to spend it.

Labor is just a tad bit more expensive here. In our backyard we have the largest oak tree in our neighborhood. It needed extensive trimming and I’d procrastinated the past couple years. Finally I bit the bullet and had the guy I’ve used before come and bid the job, including chipping and hauling away a massive amount of wood. He bid it at $800 which I thought was a bargain. Janet was appalled! This week three laborers wailed away at the tree for an entire day. She simply could not understand why her crazy husband would spend $800 on such an effort, particularly when for the same money we could have bought 80 dresses at H&M.  In the Philippines we would have paid 3 laborers 300 pesos each ($7) to do the work. Of course we’d have to provide them with lunch too. At least I didn’t have to spring for that here.

The cold causes massive cramps. After a few months here I noticed that Janet constantly had muscle cramps. OK, it was fun massaging her but it baffled me. I Goggled it and figured it was some kind of potassium deficiency or something. Finally, we figured it out. Once the fall hit and the temperature went below 60, Janet, unused to anything involving the word cold, would tense up her muscles, like a body builder posing, and by the end of the day she’d cramp up. I would remind her that as the old geezer of the couple, I should be the one requiring daily massages, but that didn’t fly.

What does a real estate agent in the Philippines do? I contacted a real estate agent in Cebu before our April trip. Told him we were just beginning the process of looking, just wanted to see how things worked in the Philippines and were not ready to buy. We set a day to meet and see a few properties in Janet’s home town. The guy shows up with the owner of the properties. The owner, a middle aged Filipina, was what in my culture used to be referred to as a “character.” Of course in the U.S. it’s totally verboten to bring the property owner, but in the Philippines she ran the show and the agent just sat back, said and did nothing. She showed us several properties that were quite nice and in the end asked up which one we wanted to buy. Obviously the agent hadn’t communicate our wishes to her in the least and we found out that…
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A firm price is a fluid concept in the Philippines. Of all the houses we saw, one stood out above the rest. 2800 sq. ft., European construction, large yard and pool, Janet really liked it. Truth be told so did I. Since I have gotten very good at converting pesos to dollars in my head I knew that the “firm” price of 6.5 million pesos was about $150,000. She informed us of several different ways that we could finance the house with no interest. I was a bit annoyed since I was not in buying mode which had clearly been communicate to the agent. Finally to quiet her I said, “If I ever get to the point of buying, I will pay cash.” “Only six million if cash,” she immediate announced.

After we were done we received constant texts from the woman: which house did we like the best, did we want to meet again to discuss, when were we leaving, etc. Finally it was the morning we were leaving Alcoy, heading for Cebu City and our flight home. We were standing on the side of the national highway, waiting for the bus and another text came in. I rolled my eyes. “Just tell her five million,” Janet said. “See what she says. It’ll be fun.” I texted the lady that sorry we were leaving and that Janet runs our finances and reminded me that our budget was no more than five million ($116,000). I figured that would keep her quiet till we got on the plane or she’d counter offer and I’d ignore her. Nope. Within five minutes the text came in; she’d take the five million. Course I still wasn’t buying but it was an interesting experience.

It became even more interesting a few days later when I exchanged correspondence with an online UK friend living in Alcoy, who had coincidentally rented the very same house we saw two years before. He said that she had tried to sell the property to him and his partner, but that maybe she didn’t completely own the land that the house stood on. Something to be careful of if we ever buy property in the Philippines.

Be careful about what you blog about.  Janet has been incredibly supportive of this effort and hasn’t objected to anything I’ve written, which is pretty amazing if you go back and read all my blogs. On the other hand just today I got on the elevator at work and there was my manager’s manager’s manager. A nice guy he immediate mentioned he read a few of my postings. I quickly searched my memory to see if I’d said anything disparaging about my job or employer. Hopefully he realizes that any comment I made about being ridiculously overpaid was a joke 🙂

 

 

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Don’t Treat Your Wife Like Wayne Gretzky

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Is it Yours, Mine or Ours?

I’ve noticed that since Janet arrived here about eleven months ago we have had many discussions that somehow end up in one place – ownership.

As I mentioned in a previous blog, I just leased a new car. Since I always lease every three years instead of buy, at my advanced age I have been through the process many times. In fact I made a big deal to Janet about how this was going to be my last lease, since by the time the lease is up, I will in all likelihood be retired. Actually in all likelihood, I will be soaking up the sun and drinking San Mig Lights on the beach, but that’s another story.

I went through the whole car process, which as anyone who has dealt with new car dealerships knows can be a weird combination of exciting, exasperating, nonsensical – and of course – expensive. Naturally the car is in my name: I’m the one with 30+ years of credit, a salaried job, and a driver’s license. A week or so after I got it we were driving somewhere and she made it clear that, “it’s your car, not mine.”

I purchased the home we live in seven years before Janet ever arrived, I pay the mortgage – so it’s mine, I suppose. She likes the house, takes good care of it, maintains it more than I do. But in the end, it’s in my name, so she says, “it’s your home.”

The same can be said of the stuff, both necessary and frivolous, that is inside the home. I bought it all; in a few cases before Janet was born; so it’s mine.

There’s even the iPad that Janet now uses almost exclusively, but she knows that, “it’s still your iPad.”

The kids are mine of course, unless or until we have one together. It’s my city, my country and my life that she has entered.

Now, I have tried to do my best to use words like, “our home,” or “our dog,” or at least “the dog” – more likely “the damn dog.” I try to purge the words “my” or “mine” out of my vocabulary; but I am sure I slip up. I want Janet to view this as “our” life, but I am sure that sometimes it’s tough for her to do.

Hence, it is important to use viagra cost in canada your steroidal drug as and when recommended. Quite a large number of males have noticed big change into brand viagra uk their health and relationship as well. One of saddest things about sales cialis people in abusive relationships is the way they use their counseling losses and therapy misses to lock themselves in their despair, until the lid pops and they end up in a domestic abuse divorce. Well, order levitra the ease and reliable service are usually the reasons why a large number of people are going online to shop for the things they need. Of course, this isn’t because Janet is from the Philippines. Some of it is about age and time on the planet; I’ve just had many more years to accumulate stuff than she has. It’s also about being a spoiled Westerner; most of us just have more cash to accumulate crap than our Filipina partners do.

Speaking of cash, that’s probably the biggest divider between mine, yours and ours. I have a somewhat high paying job, therefore in her mind, “it’s your money.” This part of the issue is starting to fade, as Janet gets a weekly paycheck, and therefore has her own money. Of course she also knows the disparity between what I earn and what she earns is large and she cannot understand it. Truth be told I think of the backbreaking, crappy, minimum wage labor jobs I had in my teens and twenties and wonder why they paid nothing and my current, cushier job pays much more. I suppose that’s a cultural and economics debate that I am unwilling to make. I’m just happy to take advantage of it.

I know that many Western couples, especially blended families, who get re-married in middle-age, sometimes go to extreme limits to make sure that everything is jointly “theirs.” They sell the house(s) and buy a new one together. Get rid of the cars and much of the accumulated crap of a lifetime, and perform a do-over. Maybe they have another kid or two, just to blend up the family a bit more. It’s not my job to judge anyone – but such people are completely mental. Buying or selling a house is one of the most stressful things in life and to do both just so one party can feel comfortable, seems to me to be extreme.

Now, I know that as the years go by, some (maybe most) of these issues between us will fade. At some point Janet and I may get a new home to live in, and she will truly think of it as “ours.” She will get a driver’s license and we will share a car! She will take her paycheck and purchase things that she will genuinely view as hers or ours; although since most of her current purchases are at either “Forever 21” or “H&M” I won’t be claiming joint ownership anytime soon.

I have no grand conclusions here. I suspect that for most couples where there is an age and income disparity or just a plain junk disparity, ownership debates are inevitable.

For some reason I am reminded of a story about Wayne Gretzky. The story may or may not be true but I heard it told by comedian, Denis Leary, years back. Now for those who don’t know anything about hockey, Gretzky was the greatest hockey player who ever lived; there’s not even credible debate about that. He holds every record worth having. He won the Stanley Cup 4 times and was league MVP a boatload of times.

Well the story goes that the comedian was invited to “The Great One’s” home. Gretzky is married to an actress; has been for many years. The comedian was given the nickel tour of the lavish and tasteful home. He could see nothing from Gretzky’s career housed there. Finally he was handed a beer and brought into the garage. Now to quote Denis, “I’ve been to Wayne Gretzky’s house. He’s got five MVP trophies, you know where they are? They’re in the fucking garage!” So there, in the garage, were the five MVP trophies and all the accumulated memorabilia of one of the greatest athletes to ever live!

Now the easiest thing (and accurate too) would be to say that some American women are just a tad controlling. I could rant about feminism too I suppose, though I’m not really anti-feminist. But in this case I will just say, when it comes to your Filipina wife:

Don’t treat your wife like Mrs. Gretzky treats Wayne.

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She Loves Me…She Loves Me Not…She Loves Me…She Loves Me Not

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A commenter (one of the 5 or 6 we have) recently told the story of an ex-girlfriend. Seems in a moment of pillow talk he asked her why she was with him, a middle-aged foreigner, rather than a young Pinoy. She responded with something like she “wanted to eat better than dried fish and rice every day.” He wasn’t moved by her response.

Now personally, as I’ve blogged before, Janet loves dried fish and rice and would probably eat it every day if she could get it – and if the rest of us could stand the smell.

But the reader took the response to mean that not only his girl, but all Filipinas, are with their Western partners for only one reason – more dried fish 🙂 No no, I suppose he really meant – for money.

Being on more forums with expats and travelers to the Philippines than I should be reading, I can say that this is a common, if odd, opinion. Guys move to the Philippines with their wives, or move there and find a wife or girlfriend, and often declare that most of the women there are only interested in a man’s cash. Of course they are quick to add that their wife doesn’t fall into that category. They were smart enough to find “one of the good ones.” More likely they are smart enough not to give their true opinion on a public forum that their wife or her infinite number of friends and relatives might read.

So, why are they with us? Why are we with them? What is this thing called love? If you’ve read any of my other wiseassed blog pieces you know I won’t be answering the last question.

But it reminds me of the fact that Janet often asks why. It’s night, maybe we’re in bed, and we whisper loving words to each other. I tell her “I love you very much,” and she asks, “Why do you love me?”

I have no good answers. I mean, saying “you’re cute/hot/a good lover,” not only isn’t an accurate answer to the love question, it could be considered insulting. “What, you only love my body!!! What happens when I get older and put on 5 pounds?”

“You’ll still be hot to me, baby.” You can imagine that this conversation (and any subsequent nighttime activities) will not end well.

Usually when Janet asks the “why” question, I hem and haw, come up with something, but it’s pretty inadequate. I’m a writer but not a poet. I know that I love Janet, but am not completely sure what that means, nor if an adequate “why” even exists.

So why do people love each other? And does the answer have anything to do with marriage – or money? After all I was in love when I was 13 – and 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, and 19 – all with different girls. And thank God I didn’t marry any of them.

I think our parents and grandparents and their predecessors, in previous eras in which most marriages actually lasted successfully, if not always happily, innately understood that you needed two people to make life work. Somebody had to make money, somebody had to care for the children, somebody had to cook, somebody took care of the house, somebody had to make sure you could afford the house and keep it from falling apart, somebody had to hitch the team of horses to the wagon or later on look under the hood of the car with a knowing “ah ha.” There was no way out of the realization  that it took two adults. I suspect that in those days also, connection was more important. Today people live alone more often than ever in the U.S. and seem OK with it; in the Philippines and much of the world, living alone is almost inconceivable, emotionally and financially .
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Now, I’m not an anti-feminist, so unlike some men, I’m not going to blame it all on feminism. But I will say that at some point people figured out that with modern conveniences, one adult could do it all, albeit badly: work, hire child care, throw packaged food in the microwave, throw the dishes in a dishwasher, hitch up the team of horses (aka drive the car), etc. You could do it alone, especially if you only had the standard 2.01 children per household that the CIA says we have in the U.S. Why the CIA keeps such stats, I am not sure; tracking the number of enemies I suppose. They also say that the average in the Philippines is 3.06  and 6.08 in Somalia. My guess is that there are not a lot of divorces in Somalia!

So way back when, people chose spouses with whom they not only had an emotional connection, but who they hoped would make a good working partner. Expressions such as, “he has a good future,” were common and meant the guy could take care of the family and ultimately they’d be driving to soccer games in a Cadillac Escalade.

The guy might equally say, “she’ll make a good mother,” meaning she had a big pair of tutoys to feed the brood. By the way, I love the word tutoys and tease Janet that she has “two toys.” OK, I’m a bit immature for 61.

But as I say, somewhere along the line, as a society we went from believing that marriage is partly about  love and partly pragmatic, to the current notion that it should be totally emotional. Smarter anthropology types have talked about romantic love being a modern, Western concept. Is it any wonder that most modern marriages fail; the emotions fade, or at least change, and what else is there? OK, there’s still the Cadillac and the tutoys but you get my meaning.

But it strikes me that in many Fil-Am marriages I know, the connection grows over time as the two realize that the spouse they chose is a true and reliable partner. I know it’s very old fashioned but Janet believes that part of her marital responsibility is to take care of me and I believe the same about caring for her. As time goes by and I see that this core belief is true, our bond grows stronger. I know that she will in fact care for me, and hope she knows the same about me toward her.

So let’s get back to the money thing, shall we. If an old fashioned girl believes that marriage is based on partnership, won’t she judge the guy first and foremost on how well he takes care of her?

And I can’t leave this subject without remarking about the food thing. Most Western guys as they get to know Filipinas, either online or in the field, remark at how strange it is that Filipinas seemed obsessed with food. Chats with Janet always began with “how was your lunch” or “what did you have for dinner.” In the U.S. where we take steady eating for granted it’s hard to relate to the notion, but eating is pretty damn important. And eating in the Philippines is an entirely social occasion. Before Janet arrived here I don’t think she ever ate a major meal alone in her life and to this day struggles when she has to eat alone. Me? I ate alone often and never thought twice about it.

In essence, food and what you had for your lunch/dinner is a pretty damn important thing to know. So in the Philippines asking what you ate is equivalent to saying, “hello, how are you?”

Is this so odd? In the U.S. two guys get together and one greets the other with, “how’s it hanging?” Frankly, I’d rather know what he had for lunch.

So guys, it’s not always about cash. Get your girl as much dried fish as she can handle. She’ll feel loved beyond conception – and well, you’re likely to get some tutoys that night.

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Is Your Filipina Wife Costing/Saving You Money?

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The most negative stereotype about marrying a Filipina revolves around money; how much she might want, how much to help her family, and how many pairs of shoes to buy to stay happily married.

Janet’s lived here about 11 months and we’ve been married 10, which no doubt makes me an expert. 🙂 I certainly haven’t kept track of it, and she’d kill me if I did, but my guess is that Janet has actually saved us money. On our weekly grocery shopping runs, she’s even better at pinching pennies than I am, and I’m pretty damn good. And once she found out the dishwasher takes about two hours to run (with the associated electricity costs) she started hand washing the dishes most of the time “to save electricity.” No sense in my saying that as a Software Engineer, we can afford the electricity; she still hand washes.

Yes, like most women, she loves the malls, but her purchases tend to get made at H&M or Forever 21, bastions of inexpensive clothing for young women. When she sees a $25 shirt she inevitably exclaims, “OMG that’s so expensive,” and passes it by.

But recently she upped the saving money ante and decided to take on Ford Motor Company. To my shock, as a 61 year old who has never purchased a new American car (only imports), I was preparing to buy a Ford plug in hybrid (determined to spend more on electricity to make up for what we save on the dishwasher). The dealership had kindly given me a car to test for two days. I hemmed and hawed, each time getting  my payments a bit lower, until I was sold. They found the exact car I wanted in the color Janet wanted. She had no interest in the car; it could have been a ’91 Yugo, as long as it was ruby red!

Now Ford has been having a teeny tiny problem with the EPA lately. Seems their methodology of how they rate their hybrid cars’ MPG had come into question. I had been reading about this while negotiating on the car, but didn’t care. My previous car was getting 18-19 MPG using premium, so any way I looked at it, I was going to save money. Nonetheless, Ford lost with the EPA and had to revise their estimates downward. The day I was to take delivery on the car, Ford announced on their website that current owners of their hybrids would be getting a check to compensate them. I certainly didn’t expect to be included but called Ford just in case. They confirmed that the cutoff date was two weeks earlier and while they apologized profusely, I would not be getting a check.

Over dinner that night, just before I was scheduled to pick up the car, I told Janet the story. “They should give you the money,” she said. I agreed but said I understood that there had to be a cutoff date and I hadn’t even gotten the car yet. “The salesman should get you the money,” she insisted. I maturely reminded her that salesmen in the U.S. don’t have much influence on gigantic corporations. “Then cancel the car,” she said.

“What?” I laughed, assuming she was joking.

“Tell them to give you the money or cancel the car.”

Now being the thickheaded husband I am, it took Janet several repetitions of this mantra until I realized she was totally serious and not joking. By that point I wanted the car and didn’t want to cancel the deal, but I realized my wife was drawing a line in the sand and I had to respond.

“But surely you can understand that the salesman can’t…”

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“Ok, I will talk to the dealership and ask them what they can do.”

“Just tell them you’re not buying the car if they don’t do something.”

I arrived at the dealership and my smiling salesman greeted me, confident that I’d been reeled in. I took him aside and confided that I had a “marital problem.” I told him the story and he said he could check with Ford the next day. I told him not to bother; that I had already given Ford my VIN # and my car didn’t count against the rebate.

“I can’t go home with the car, unless you do something for me. So that I can tell my wife.” The wife who’s less than half my age and no more than half my weight.

Of course the salesman gave me the typical – “we’re making very little on the deal” bullshit.

Finally he said, “I can give you a set of all-weather mats. I’m sure I can swing that but it’ll take me about a week.” The mats are about $100 and in my wet part of the country I usually buy a set of these anyway. So, I agreed and we both breathed a sigh of relief.

I brought the car home triumphantly. Janet immediately wanted to know, “What did they do for you?” I told her about the mats. “How much do they cost?” she asked.

“Not sure. I think quite a lot. It’s a good deal and they did it only because of you.”

The next week I went to pick up the mats. Janet, who had not gone with me previously for the long process of car shopping and dealing, came with me to get her mats and meet the salesman. So, now I had the new red car, the hot, fierce negotiating wife, and rubber all-weather mats. All was right with the world.

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How to be a “Sweet’N Low Daddy”

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How much money should you give your Filipina girlfriend? How much have your got?

I am going to take a few moments to discuss giving money, gifts or prizes to your girlfriend(s) in the Philippines. I am not going to discuss how much to give your wife. What do you think I am – nuts? I am a happily married newlywed and want to stay that way. Besides, Janet is working now and raking in the green; soon I’m gonna hit her up for a loan!

But honestly, you’ve met a cute Filipina and you’ve been chatting daily online for a while. Have you met her yet in the flesh? My rule of thumb was, if you havent’t met her yet, you’re not really in a relationship and why are you giving her money. OTOH, below I will detail a couple instances where I broke that rule.

Now, when I was chatting online I was a very very busy boy. I am sure I chatted and cammed with over 100 women. So for me the problem was not how to find girls but how to eliminate the also-rans, and who should I ultimately choose. If a girl I was chatting with was asking for money or even hinting at it, that made the decision easy. I said no and ended contact with her; ended it sadly a few times. This strikes me as Online Dating 101 behavior. A good girl in the Philippines is not going to ask you for money. Of course a bad girl might not ask you for money either – they know what you’re looking out for also. And frankly while there were many obviously ridiculous reasons to ask for cash (“I need a new webcam to do a show for you”) there were also a few girls who I thought might have been sincere in their needs. Nonetheless my rule was pretty inflexible; yours should be too.

NOTE: When the girl generously proposes performing via cam for you, if only you will provide her with the $75 dollars needed to buy a cam, point out the fact that nowadays you can get a cam for $20. Believe me, she won’t blink. “You cannot get one for that price in the Philippines, Sir.”

When the girl generously proposes performing via cam for you, if only you will provide her with the $75 dollars needed to buy a cam, point out the fact that nowadays you can get a cam for $20.

But seriously, everyone’s different and only you know what you can and cannot reasonably afford. OTOH, just because you can afford it, does that mean you should give it?

For example, do you really need to spend $300/night on that 5- star hotel in Manila? For what – just to impress her with a quality towel to steal? In most cases she will be clueless why the hotel is $300 (as am I) and will think you’re an idiot for spending 12,000 pesos for what is essentially a rented bed that the night before someone screwed a bargirl on.

I can send you to a very nice hotel in Manila for $100/night, she will be suitably impressed, and you can send me the difference.

My rule of thumb in traveling with a companion is to travel the way I normally would. I book the style of hotel I normally book on whatever budget reflects my normal traveling comfort. I eat at the types of restaurants I might normally eat at. So, I don’t spend more to impress someone but I don’t deliberately go cheap just to see what the girl’s reaction will be. Some guys do this and I don’t get it. Why should I be miserable on my own trip?

Besides, my strategy shows her what kind of life she will have with me. If you’re a 5-star guy, be a 5-star guy. If you’re a 2 1/2-star guy, welcome to the club. To beat this dead horse one more time, be the person you truly are with her!
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Here’s another point to remember and it’s just human nature – whether in the Philippines or anywhere else. It’s much easier to go up the spending ladder then down. Meaning it’s easier to spend more on your girlfriend than less. If you gave her a $5000 gift for Christmas last year (and if you did please immediately friend me on Facebook) then you’re gonna be hard pressed to give her a $50 gift this year – and live to tell the tale. On the other hand, if you gave her a $50 Christmas gift last year when you were dating, now that you are married you can easily justify bumping it up; a $55 gift means a 10% increase, which is better than a cost of living raise, isn’t it?

Let’s get back to the idea of never giving a girl money who you haven’t met. I think there might be an exception or two. For example, you’re going to meet soon and she needs air, bus or ferry fare to meet you. You should expect to pay. If she’s taking a 7-hour ferry ride (as Janet did) to meet you, don’t just spring for the cheapest ticket; she needs a bed to sleep on and a bag or two of chicharon. If she tells you not to worry, that she can pay, then start worrying; either she’s one of those rare middle class Filipinas I blogged about or one of those not so rare bar girls I won’t blog about.

The other option is to give a girl you’re interested in a small amount of money or a small gift to test her. If you give her a $20 gift and she reacts by calling you a cheap bastard and screams that you’re worse than the five Pinoy boyfriends she has – well, you have your answer. If she is thrilled, then you might have met a really good one. I sent Janet a dozen roses for Valentines Day. She was in heaven, told everyone, and posted pics on Facebook of her with the flowers in every conceivable angle and setting.

On the other hand, a year before, I was chatting with a girl I liked. Our chatting was inconsistent since she only could chat in the Internet Cafe and she was always too broke for the café. I told her I really wanted to chat with her more often to see if we were a good match. I proposed that I would be willing to send her $20 which she would use only for Internet Cafe fees. She agreed and promised she’d only use it for chatting. You can guess the conclusion of the story. A week went by before I heard from her again and at that point she admitted she’d spent the money on her needs. So for the small sum of $20, despite the fact that she had a body you could shake a stick at (if that’s your idea of a good time), I found out she was not the one for me.

The irony of all this is that many men have tired of the hoops they have to jump through to obtain Western women. So, they rationalize (and a good rationale IMO) that a non-Western woman with more modest needs and requirements might be better. Then what happens? Some guys immediately begin treating their Filipina woman like a Western woman and feel the need to shower her with cash and prizes. You should resist that urge.

But who am I to tell you what you can and can’t do with your own money. Maybe you’re Donald Trump and you can afford all the $10,000 hair pieces you want. For a person like that a $1000 gift to your girlfriend might be nothing. Again, if you are in this category, please friend me on Facebook; it’s Dave Weisbord – that’s W-E-I-S-B-O-R-D.