Just Helping Out
Since the pandemic, more people have become hip to what hobosexual relations are, but for those who have no clue, allow me to educate you. First, it’s hobo, not homo, sexual, as in a hobo, like a street person. Back in the Great Depression, hobos became popular, and now that the economy is struggling, we are seeing that happening again.
A hobo is a person who is looking for a place to stay, as they do not have a place to stay. Out of desperation, they are willing to settle with just about anyone with a roof they can put over their heads. Straight people will turn gay if they think it suits their ideal living. When people are desperate, they turn to desperate measures.
The Seedy Underbelly
Of course, the seedy underbelly to this is that the relationship is based purely on manipulation, as they will do whatever to get into your house. That means they will tell you what you want to hear and act like they are the solution you have been dreaming about, to get free rent. Then, they will pull out their best sex and sex toys moves to not have to pay you rent.
Person A owns a house. Person B does not. Person B seduces Person A to be able to have a roof over their head.
Now, Person A may be hip to the fact that Person B does not have a place to live and may even clue in to their intentions, thinking that they are just going to help someone out, as kindness catches them. But, ultimately, Person B is out to prey on Person A’s kindness, and they are willing to do just about whatever to make Person A give in to them. If Person A knows the situation and agrees, that’s one thing. Still, usually, Person A does not know the true intentions of Person B.
No Sugar Momma
Honestly, there have been Anna Nicole Smith situations before. So it’s not like the concept of a sugar momma or a sugar daddy is new. However, this is not an open sugar momma or sugar baby situation.
Person A usually does not know that Person B sees them as a potential sugar momma or sugar baby , as Person B will usually tell Person A whatever song and dance they think they want to hear to get them to say, “oh, you can come crash here for a while, no problem.” There is a video from people who do this online that teaches others how to do it, which is the sick part. So, let’s review some of those telltale signs.
The first clue is if you hook up with someone, they do not leave. You think it’s going to be a classic one-night stand, and when you wake up in the morning, they are still there, either in bed or making you breakfast. Usually, they try to earn your trust by taking your guard down, and doing “kind” acts, such as cleaning your house or cooking for you.
When your guard drops, you might even suggest that they can stay or let themselves out when you have to leave. But instead, they will continue to make themselves at home, usually by cleaning, which I have found. Cleaning makes people happy, doing the chores they don’t want to do, such as the dishes, taking out the trash, folding laundry, and more.
Helping You Out
They’re helping you out, so you don’t mind if they stick around longer. Busy, working professionals are grateful to get some help, and the happiness of having support blinds them to true intentions. They’re not there to help you; they’re trying to secure a place in your house by proving themselves as a valuable asset to keep around.
They’ll fuck you good. They’ll clean. They will lower your defenses.
They make you want to have them around. If you’re too busy to do some of these regular chores, you may find it a blessing, a win-win situation, but most of the time, this is only to sucker you in. It’s the honeymoon period that does not last. It only sets the stage for further manipulation to the point that you will have to go through eviction to get them out of your house, as they usually know laws.
Legally A Resident
Once they stick around long enough to be considered a resident of your home legally, they start to slack off. By the time you get sick of their mess, they’ve been there long enough to require an eviction or a divorce. Yes, some people set out to marry people so that they can legally have a claim to whatever it is that person had that they wanted.
Your house that you worked so hard to buy? In a divorce, they could be entitled to half of it. Even evictions are not cheap, nor are they fun.
My friend compared it to a stray cat. If you pet it and feed it, it is going to stay. Next thing you know, it’s just looking at you, hungry for food.
It’s very much like taking on a pet, which sounds like fun, except that a pet does not have a tendency to get drunk or high or take your money. If the sex is that good, and you’re happy to have help around the house, then that’s on you to decide if you want to be a sugar momma or daddy.
However, if someone manipulates you to have a place to stay, pulls the rug out from you, and shows you their bad side right about the time you would have to evict them legally, there’s your clue.
The Tables Turn
Tables turn quickly. Addictions rear their ugly heads. Domination starts, as that’s how people get controlled, through domination techniques, such as isolation from friends and family, and verbal abuse.
In other words, things tend to turn toxic very quickly. For example, you start out thinking that you found the answers to all of your prayers, and the next thing you know, you are faced with the reality that things were never quite what you thought they were. Then you think you’re not good enough, start wondering what’s wrong with you, and how did it happen?
That’s how it happens, like a stray cat that refuses to leave. You give it attention, food, and love, and it stays longer. It’s a staple in your house.
As much as you might hear people talk about this on the internet, people theorize about it when they are already married; let me share some of my personal experiences with you, as I’m not afraid to share the realities I have gone through. I hate being a victim.
I Know You
Oh, let’s start in New Orleans with a musician that was oh so cute. I walked into a concert, and he saw the musicians on stage take note as soon as I walked in the door. The minute the song was over, the lead singer stared right at me, “I still got the biggest dick in this whole place,” The guy saw my face as I smiled back at the singer.
He leaned over. “Hey. Almost seemed like he was talking to you.”
I try to act stupid. “Oh? Really?”
At the show’s end, the bass player was trying to holler at me. Knowing that he tended to be a player, I politely turned down his invitation to join him back at his house that evening, something this guy had heard and he asked me. “Did you just turn him down?”
No Explanation Needed
“Uh, yeah.” What should I say? I didn’t owe an explanation.
Their sound guy was my buddy. He was finishing up all the wires and whatnot, but he said they would be gathering at The Saint later if I cared to join them there. Knowing I did not have a car at the time, he offered to take me if I waited, and this was the opportunity that this random guy was waiting for, as he chimed in, “I can drive you there.”
The sound guy and I look at each other, like, who is this guy? Finally, the sound guy eyes him up for a minute and calms my fears, “oh yeah. This guy has been around for a while; he’s cool if you want a ride.”
I think this guy would not steer me wrong, so I reluctantly take off to The Saint with this guy, who proceeds to throw down the charm. Being a perfect gentleman, putting me at ease, he seemed nice enough. So we started talking from there, and as it turned out, his lease and my lease were ending on the same day in only a couple of weeks.
Begging To Stay
I still remember my last roommate begging me to stay, his girlfriend being all jealous of me, the whole thing being awkward, as my old roommate was talking smack in front of this new guy, trying to convince me to stay, instead of move in with this new guy, but because of the girlfriend being in tears and acting like a lunatic, I moved out of the fire and into the frying pan with this new guy.
Even finding a place was odd, as the place that I instantly got terrible vibes from was the place he insisted on moving into, the one home that I hated most of all. But, since it was the cheapest option, he convinced me, and that’s the start of the compromising, so it’s best to trust your instincts always simply.
I’ll skip the drama, but let’s just say within less than two weeks, he dropped the bomb on me that he never really wanted to date me. Instead, he claimed that he wanted to live with me, so other musicians in the scene would see him with me. That way, he would get signed.
The label he wanted was owned by the lead singer with a large penis. The bottom line is that his sick plan worked, and he’s still signed. Nobody ever gave me a lick of thanks; I am a forgotten memory.
Turns into Manipulation
Now, that, some might say, was not a true “hobosexual” relationship, as I was the one who did not have the car, he did, and I did pay my fair share of the bills upfront, paying rent three months in advance. However, it indeed turned into pure manipulation, as it was controlling.
Not having a car, I was left at his mercy to go anywhere unless I took a taxi, as we were not located near many public transportation services.
That meant, even going for food, I was left at his mercy. Since he was out doing drugs, going on binges for a few days at a time, I would often be left to starve, going to my neighbors to beg for a meal. In his mind, it was a way to make me lose weight, so it was all manipulation.
He tried saying he would make me a “kept woman” since he led me on. Granted, he did allow me to write for the few months that I had paid in advance, but it was toxic all the way around, ending with him nearly killing me.
By this, I mean that he showed up to get me on his birthday. I did not realize how fucked up he was until he tried to drive us off the bridge by the mayo factory, going across the lanes of oncoming traffic, telling me he didn’t want to live anymore.
If I wanted to live, I had to grab the wheel like I did and fight to not go over the side of the bridge like he was trying to do at that moment, which meant swerving around the oncoming traffic to get back in our lane.
Kick Him Out
I had to kick him out after that. I’d be better off on my own.
The landlord tried to prey on my desperation. Of course, that was a different type of drama story, but she knew the situation and thought she could take advantage of it by crawling into my bed.
Since I was not too fond of her advances, she hired my friends to pack up all my belongings into a pile when I was not home. That way, I came home to this stack of shit. When I went to bed, I was woken up by people letting themselves into my apartment, telling me the landlord gave them the key and that it was vacant for her to rent.
That led me to have no choice but to jump into another toxic situation, moving in with a guy who would also wind up trying to kill me, only this time, he was all strung out on a crack binge with a knife, beating me up, telling me how I couldn’t handle prison, until I fought back.
Slam The Door
See, I didn’t know this guy was into crack cocaine. He seemed normal, and lived with a lawyer. Even Charles Grant showed up at our house once, and I didn’t know who he was, so I shut the door in his face stupidly.
However, when you have a knife in your hand, and he has a knife in his hand, and you start circling each other, doing the dance of death, it gives you a new perspective on life, such as I need to get out of this city.
In a sick way, it’s a good thing that it happened, because that was only a couple months before Hurricane Katrina hit. Had I stayed without a car, my house would have been under 25 feet of water.
Let’s just say that I can sympathize with people who find themselves in need of a hobosexual situation. I have been there myself and know that it’s not always easy to secure a house, even when paying for it.
Both sides of this potentially toxic situation can get hurt for the record. That’s why it’s essential to talk about it, even if it hurts to share the pain of my own personal experiences, as people need to know the truth.
Get Life Together
After all that drama, I went back to graduate school at Johns Hopkins University. I picked myself up, dusted myself off, and tried to get an education to make money and hopefully not find myself in any of those situations again.
Wrong. I’m just on the other side.
Let’s talk about when I was working on a military proposal in Wisconsin worth billions of dollars. On my first day, my supervisor told me my boobs were too big. Of course, that just sets the stage for a hostile work environment. Still, when you are working for a company with deep pockets, even if you have all the proof in the world, you don’t have the money they do to fight the legal process in court. I found that even with lots of documentation, lawyers would not even take the case just because of who they were up against.
Money Running Out
Though I finished my contract, when it ended, I found myself with a few more months on my lease, quickly running out of the cash I had earned. Finally, a friend shows up, seemingly with the answers to help, as he could get me a short-term travel job working with him. It seems to be a win-win, as he would get me a job, and I’d let him stay at my place to help pay bills.
Money started running out when the short-term job was up and he was secure in my house. It was me who had to get a job, because he refused. He thought a few hundred bucks in his pocket was enough of an excuse not to have to get a job, even when I explained there were bills.
I’ve always been a workaholic. No problem for me to work. I got a job.
He didn’t. He’d clean though. I was happy enough.
Drinking kicks up a notch. I’m not a drinker. That’s never good.
Drunk and Delusional
This guy gets delusional when he’s drunk, to the point that he grabbed cops. He made up this huge story about how he saw guys in the parking lot and just knew I must have been doing whatever with them and how I stole all this money from him. Come to find out; the money was in his pocket the whole time. Luckily, the cops knew I was sober. They knew he was drunk and ordered me to leave him and drive.
When the cops have to order you to leave your lover, that’s when you know things are toxic. Fast forward to him threatening to hit my mother, or him beating me up so bad that my neighbors broke down my door and had to peel him off of me, and that further supports the idea. In hindsight, that was a completely hobosexual relation, as he knew I had a house, knew I was a hard worker, set the stage to where he would not have to work, as his goal was to sit around the house and get drunk.
This last situation takes the cake, though. This was the most accurate definition of hobosexual relations.
I was a total dumbass in it all.
Welcome Drag Queens
My old roommate from 20 years ago had always kept in touch with me, though failing to mention he was living with a girl for seven years, merely singing the song that he was single and had always loved me. My ex warned me 20 years ago that he would try to prey on me, but I thought, after a couple of decades, why not? Coming from New England, I knew he would not be working, but he always had a good work ethic back in the day, so no problem.
First, he told me he was flying down, but the day I was supposed to get him at the airport, I got a phone call. “Um, this is his girlfriend. He decided to drive down with a couple of young guys instead of fly, and they are currently in jail in Georgia for speeding with beer in the car.”
I didn’t know any of that. Then, a couple of days later, he shows up with two drag queens who all want to stay at the house I bought. I’m a gracious hostess for the most part, so no problem; come on in, boys.
I think they bought me dinner the first couple of days, and that was it. Next, it turned into me paying for all the meals. I was working heavy hours, and I was happy to see them cook and clean my house for me.
Sure, you guys can stay. No problem. Keep cleaning.
I should mention that cleaning is not what it seems. When someone cleans, they are taking the opportunity to rifle through your belongings. They see what you have and where you keep it, so it’s sizing your stuff up.
Great At First
Sex with my guy was great at first, the electricity of waiting 20 years. But, soon, I noticed in bed that he would sleep with his back to me or groan if my hand should brush across him. Next, it turned into him accusing me of trying to force sex on him if I touched him, so I didn’t touch him.
Now, when you’re sleeping with someone you can’t touch, it’s weird. I thought I was trying to respect his space and whatever, but it was really because he was just not into me, so much as my house. After a couple of months, he kicked the drag queens out, as they had started to clue me in on a few things that I had not known about him, though he tried to play it off like he was looking out for my best interest.
Let’s just fast forward past all the controlling manipulation and cut into when one of his drag queen friends called out what he was really doing. “Didn’t you just say that he picked a fight with you, so you would leave? I just want to show you that he’s on Grinder right now trying to hook up,” so he sent me a screenshot of my boyfriend actively on Grinder.
Paranoid About Diseases
From what I am told, those not so familiar with Grindr are more gay hookups than straight hookups. I am not one to hook up with random strangers, as I get too paranoid about diseases. Still, I did not appreciate that someone was picking a fight with me to hook up with someone else, regardless of it was a girl or a guy; it was the point.
I think it’s extremely important to note that when my boss found out about what was happening in my personal life, she found any excuse to try to get me to quit. Yes, I was great at my job, better than most, but she was from the state of mind that it didn’t matter how popular gay rights were, she was not fond of any of it. She had me put extra expenses on my credit card to get me to leave and then simply didn’t pay them; I had to quit to get my travel expenses reimbursed.
That particular situation steadily deteriorated. The drag queen came to see me and commented how different I was in the course of a few months. “He’s putting out that inner light that burns inside of you .”
It’s Not Love
I dealt with everything, including stuff stolen from my house. Finally, attempting to move on, I thought I found a better situation, but it was really just a guy who wanted to help me help him. In other words, it was a guy willing to help me, only if I helped him, so it was not love.
It’s more like you can be an official side piece. I’ll help you, and you help me, but it’s not happily ever after with someone else in the equation. It doesn’t matter how good it was, as it was an illusion.
That’s why I get pissed off. That’s why I’d rather be a plant. Just give me a dildo, let me please myself, and I’ll do my own thing alone.
Don’t Be Victimized
Learn from my mistakes. Open your eyes. Don’t be a victim.
Instead of putting up with toxicity, buy a dildo. If your bed feels empty, buy a lifelike torso. I did, and it helps for feeling as if you are cuddling up with someone in your bed while sleeping.
That’s my advice. Don’t be manipulated. Take care of yourself.
