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I Was Too Poor...
Colombian sex workers, shitting in the streets, and the smallest bank account you've ever seen
Location: Santo Domingo, Dominican Republic
I had just moved into a new place.
The few months prior I was staying in a nice-ish one-bedroom apartment with a massive balcony overlooking the Caribbean sea. The setup was ideal and the view ensured many women wanted make sex with me.
It also provided perfect views of the ocean from the bed, ensuring said women also agreed make sextape with me.
Mucho good times.
However, I was not exactly making much money at the time and certainly living above my means.
By not exactly, I gave zero fucks about money and would stop working once my expenses of $1,200 USD a month were made and paid.
My sole focus was on engaging in unprotected coitus with as many women as humanly possible.
Not a strong financial play.
In total, I had about $600 USD in my bank account at the end of the month. So when my short-term lease ran out, I took my buddy up on his offer to come live in the cheap boarding house he was staying at.
He told me the place was great and how the owner’s cousin was cool as hell and living there, too. They smoked stogies on the terrace in the backyard daily.
The boarding house was $12 USD a night for the monthly rate, included Wifi, air conditioning, and a common room kitchen.
The rooms were big and had a closet + a desk in each, along with a private bathroom.
It Was Not Ideal
So I show up, pay the owner for the first month, and move into the room.
Everything seems cool until I go to take a shower and realize there’s no hot water.
Fucking hell, but not the end of the world.
The next day I start to work on my computer.
Around an hour into my work, the Wifi goes out. I walk over to my buddy’s room and ask him about the Wifi.
Him: “Yeah, that happens 2-3 times a week here. Don’t worry about it. It’ll come back on in 3-4 hours…probably.”
Ummmm, that’s not exactly ideal, ser.
The Internet comes on about 3 hours later.
The next morning I go to the colmado to buy some breakfast stuff to prepare in the communal kitchen.
I come back to find two Colombian women cooking in barely any clothing.
Now, this may sound ideal…
It was not.
These were older, hardened “pros” who wore every dick they’d ever taken on their faces.
Honestly, these creatures were scary looking. I had no doubts they would have tried to rob me if they thought I had any money.
Luckily, I didn’t…I guess.
I said “hola” and waited in my room until they finished cooking.
Then made sure to wash the dishes and plates I was using thoroughly before and after cooking.
The good news? They moved out during my first week at the boarding house.
Oh, and it gets better…
There’s a bus stop a block from the crib, so I would always see people getting on and off the bus.
This one morning as I was walking to the gym by the bus stop, I see people exiting the bus.
Don’t think anything of it. Until I cross the street and the bus takes off, only to reveal…
Some young chick squatting down taking a shit on the sidewalk.
She’s still shitting as I walk by and looking at me, while shitting, as I try to avoid eye contact.
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After about a month living in the boarding house, I hath realized spending $12 USD a night on my housing was not ideal — but I had no other options due to my financial situation.
That’s when it really got depressing…
My buddy was doing significantly better financially then I was at the time.
He had a few Amazon affiliate niche sites clearing $4,000 USD a month.
One night he strolls to my room and asks me if I want to go ride ATVs at the beach on Saturday.
He starts hyping up the tour: “Yeah, man. They pick us up here and drive us into the mountains. Then we get on ATVs and cruise to waterfalls before heading down to the beach. It looks incredible!”
I was hyped.
“Ok, how much is it?!”
Him: “Bro, it’s only $100 bucks for a full day tour all-included. Crazy, right?”
Now, I had just paid for another months’ rent at the boarding house.
I knew exactly how much money was in my bank account at that moment.
I did not have $100 USD to spend on groceries, much less a sick ATV tour at the beach.
I made an excuse why I couldn’t go.
My buddy gave me an odd look and walked off. He knew what that meant…I had no money to go.
Burnt Into My Brain
My buddy comes back Saturday evening after the ATV tour.
We had plans to go to the bars in Zona Colonial and meet some chicks.
This was ideal, as we could walk there. Plus, none of the bars we liked charged cover and the beers were like $2 USD a piece.
We’d pre-game on our terrace and then go to the bars.
I could party hard for around $20 bucks all night long — legit all I could afford.
So we’re pre-gaming and he starts telling me about the incredible tour, how much fun it was, showing me pictures, etc.
I should have been excited for him. He had just had a blast.
But I was getting depressed.
I should have been there with him. I should have went on that same tour. Went on the same adventure with him. Took some incredible photos — just like he did.
But I was too poor.
We still went out and had one hell of a time that night, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was too poor to make memories with the homie.
The pain of not being able to do hoodrat tings’ with me friend was burnt into my brain.
I made a decision while looking at his photos from the ATV tour to never be that poor again.
To never have to say “NO” to my friend(s) just because I didn’t have the money to do something.
While it took years for me to fully get the poison out and make some real money, my bank account never got that low again.
I was never that poor again.
For some reason, the pain of not being able to go on that stupid ATV tour still motivates me…