Posts Tagged ‘Miami


The Whole Arm Candy Role is Over-rated

I been thinkin’ on it a bit–well okay, I’ve been pondering on it nearly my entire adult life–and at last, at the ripe old age of 31, I’m going to tell you for certain: arm candy babes don’t have it as good as girls who can pay their own way. In fact, I’ll take that generalization and expand the scope to cover all women. Those who are dependent on someone else’s whims and bankbook just really don’t have as much fun as the sisters who, to quote my favorite buzz-cut ’80s rock icon of ambiguous sexuality, are “doin’ it for themselves”

They’re not as well-traveled either.

I came to this conclusion while in Cancun the past week for the launch of a new luxury resort development. There were many, many rich and powerful Latin American developers and businessmen–and closely following them, the requisite bevy of perfectly turned-out, rhinestone-belted, cleavage-sporting Latina babes.

I wasn’t at all surprised the girls were there…after all, what’s a party without gratuitous pretty women to act as floating arm candy? But here’s what shocked me: Though these girls live in Miami–an hour’s flight from Cancun–and I live across the continent, I’ve been to Cancun more often than they have. As we talked further, I learned that one girl–a Venezuelan–had never been to neighbor countries Chile or Argentina. To me, that’s like saying you’re from California but have never been to Hawaii or Vegas. It’s possible, but only if you’re singularly untraveled.

And this confused me greatly. Because…isn’t the whole POINT of being arm candy to wealthy men that you get to jet around and see all kinds of cool places and experience amazing things? Isn’t that one of the major perks?

The answer to this is YES, OSTENSIBLY. As a cute female, if you spend enough time surfing the online personals, or hanging out in wine bars in Los Angeles/San Francisco/Las Vegas/wherever, some man will invariably approach you with offers of travel and fancy meals and tickets to the opera.  That is how they reel you in. The thing is, they’re…not lying exactly, but grossly over-exaggerating. ‘Travel’ as arm candy means a trip to Vegas, or to Dallas/Chicago/other boring corporate hub… Caribbean or Cancun if you’re really lucky. And the whole time, you’re under pressure to sparkle and flirt and basically WORK IT… and you only eat, drink or have any fun at the whim of the man who brought you. 

Face it: Nobody wants to–or knows how to–spoil a girl as well as she knows how to spoil herself. Except maybe her best girlfriends or her sisters.

A man’ll buy you a pair of Wolford stockings and a teddy, and expect you to turn into a private porno pinup model in return. You can buy yourself a $300 Dirty Lingerie corset and wear it out clubbing, to a costume party, or  just keep it in your drawer to pet and fondle on rainy days.

A girlfriend will treat you to a spa day if she’s got the hookup, just because she thinks you need to relax. A man…well, one once offered a spa treatment, but it was in Vegas and I’d only just met him, so I politely said, Thanks, but that’s a little creepy.

A man will buy a bottle of champagne on a special occasion. For my sister’s bridal shower, the girls are buying a case.

I could go on and on. The point is this: The life of an arm candy girl seems sweet, and men always come with the big promises. But in actual fact, it’s a round-the-clock job where you don’t get much respect, and  usually don’t get a salary either (unless you’re a full fledged ‘sugar baby’ which is exponentially sketchier).

If you want to travel the world for real, splurge madly on lingerie for no reason, order $100 worth of sushi with no one questioning you, and really enjoy every moment, then girl, you gots to do it for yourself.



Apres Aspen

I went to Aspen and did not get to experience apres ski. Not only that, but I have never experienced apres ski. If you think this is pathetic, you’re not the only one…I can’t believe that there is a pre-Happy Hour tradition involving melted cheese and shellfish platters and sparkling wine and hot chocolate, and that no one has alerted me before. It’s true I don’t ski and almost never even see the snow, but who cares? I’m sure I could do apres ski like a pro.

 Anyway this is not the point. The point is, you want to know about my personal life, which truth to tell has been fairly uneventful in the past few weeks. I went to Miami mid-month and had a regrettable evening out with a South American jai alai player who spoke no English and had the mental capacity of a bluebottle fly. Earlier that evening I’d been hanging with some absolutely lovely young Miami ladies, and all I can say is, their debauched take-no-prisoners attitude toward the male gender really rubbed off on me.

We stopped by the new Table 8 in order to say hello to Fred the dating columnist from the Miami Herald. He  probably thought I was going to stay longer than 5 minutes–as did I, as did I–but you know, sometimes you just have to follow the mojito trail where it leads you. Which happened to be right out of the club.

 Anyway back to this weekend. Aspen. So lovely! Mountains, snow, those little Snowmass lifts they call Skittles b/c of their shiny colors… It was so picturesque, words fail me…

Aspen really is an excellent place to be unmarried, what with its mix of locals (“they’ll be super nice to you, they’ll lay you, never call you again, but you know where to find ’em next year,”as one girl summed up), wealthy and debauched playboys of all ages (mainly too old to be ‘boys’ but don’t tell them that), burned-out Hollywood producers and yummy European and American students working the ski season. The bars seem to be a mixture of all the above–the bar at the Little Nell is that and then some. Dogs are allowed in the main room and even have their own menu. So, too, are entire groups of 60-something women in bikinis…in 40-degree weather, in March.

A lot of Aspen life–like the retiree bikins and the proliferation of married men who’ve temporarily ‘misplaced’ their wedding bands–is fun to visit, but def wouldn’t want to live in the middle of it. If you’re a skiier, a mountain person, or you like a super-concentrated social scene that’s basically “The Coal Miners’ Daughter” meets “Dynasty” meets “Fast Company”…well I mean you probably already hit this place every year so why am I even telling you?

Probably ’cause it was my first time and I still have much to process, although none of it involving a boy b/c I was good and responsible, and therefore ended up 2 nights alone in a gorgeous mountain-facing condo that could easily fit 5 people. If I’d have been on my Aspen game I would have picked up a seasonal worker…but the Miami fiasco has sorta ruined me for seasonals.

April 2020

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