Girlfriends For Rent Among Latino Immigrants

In certain immigrant-heavy areas of New York, lonely bachelors (or not) can hire what basically amounts to a “girlfriend for a song” at “bailarina bars.” Rosa works in one such bar:

Now it was three o’clock and the phone was ringing. “HAL-lo!” she answered, the way people from the Dominican Republic do when they take a call in this country. [Ed. note: How quaint.] It was a man she knew. Rosa rolled her eyes but quickly switched her voice to the audio version of molasses.

“Hola, mi amor,” she cooed, hunkering down into the phone. “Umhmmmm, umhmmmm. You sound kind of solemn,” she continued, in Spanish. “Tired, hmmm? You’re gonna cook? Spaghetti? Well, watch it, I think you’re getting fat! I am, too! Ha ha!” She laughed from far back in her throat, the way a new girlfriend laughs, though she didn’t consider this man her boyfriend, nor even, exactly, her friend.

The man is, actually, a patron who visits the bailarina bar where Rose works in order to lavish her with money and free drinks in exchange for her company and attention. Like many other patrons of such bars, he’s an immigrant, speaks little to no English, works six days a week, sends most of his earnings back to family in his native Ecaudor and is extremely lonely. But immigrants, as NY Mag is quick to remind us, are gross:

Rosa is 31 and petite, with eyebrows that she pencils a little too far toward her nose, giving her a vaguely stern appearance. That image is offset by her generous but tidy cleavage, which she has accented with two tattooed stars on her left breast. She’s considered pretty.

“Considered.” Nice. The bailarinas are also sometimes visited by Orthodox Jewish men, whom they refer to as “pinguinitos.” For her part, Rosa sees herself as helpful to both lonely men and to those with significant others of their own. She won’t take any groping or “gross love talk” and gives men who complain about wives or girlfriends’ lack of sexual interest advice like “buy her flowers,” “take her to dinner” and “keep giving strange women money.” She admits, however, that it’s sometimes a struggle to keep the relationship with her clients — not all of whom are Latino — strictly professional, and not treading off into murky “relationship” territory. One client, Edgar, attempted to get closer to her. And there was one client she eventually fell in love with, had a child with and planned on marrying - until he was murdered by a co-worker:

The worst part of the breakup was realizing she’d lost the chance to give her son a father. “When he was very little, he would ask, ‘Where’s my dad?’ ‘Your papito is in heaven,’ I’d say. When he got bigger, if he saw me with a man, he’d say, ‘Is this Papi?’ Now he’s nine, and he tells me to get married so he can have a father. This has turned into the hardest thing in my life.”

But she has steeled herself against falling for another client. Edgar’s preference for her was growing into an obsession. He was calling all the time, acting like a boyfriend. He’d even asked her to marry him. Rosa was unmoved. “I don’t love any of them,” she says of her regulars.

Why do you all think? Is this a quick way of making money when one’s not in a position to be choosy about work? Is it an example of doing the best with what one has? Or is the emotional — and potentially physical — toll just too much?

Two Bucks a Dance [NY Mag]