HOW I BECAME A TELENOVELA HEART I wanted to be a soap opera actor. It was not useful for studying. I had stopped playing

HOW I BECAME A TELENOVELA HEART I wanted to be a soap opera actor. It was not useful for studying. I had stopped playing sports due to a knee injury. I didn't like routine office work, I loved sleeping late, calling attention, being the center of attention, I didn't know English or computers or accounting. On top of that, he had bad handwriting, and as my godfather said, he was lazy. born to be lazy. My genes saved me, my height of 1.79 cm, which in the job applications were 1.82 cm, 72 kilograms of weight well distributed, toothpaste advertising smile and even teeth, light brown hair conveniently rinsed, very modern cut, nice physique of a tennis player, with sparse hair conveniently distributed, cyclist's legs (another of my hobbies), thorax worked as an old washboard, a little ass to be grateful for to the sky and an endowment of 22 centimeters that many in the club envied me. Under their breath they called me the pijudo or the golden pijita..... What more could they want? With such a background curricular, I told myself that I was ideal for a soap opera heartthrob, that is: no He had studied acting or anything like that, he was half hard, half wooden, half hollow, more or less cute, sexy, always tanned by the sun or the lamp, something silly, attractive to men and women, with a good wardrobe and very., but very, cheeky. Maybe you know me, women die for me, I carry I have played several roles, few but notable, and my stage name is Rodrigo Guevara. Rodrigo by the late singer of Cordoban quartets (a music tropical and ordinary environment of central Argentina), and Guevara by EL Che, the famous Argentine fighter of the Cuban pseudo revolution with a slight similar to Jesus, and became a poster model after his cruel murder in the Bolivian jungles. The beginnings were difficult, because I presented myself with curriculum vitae to many castings and most of them did not pass the first round of selections. In some cases they had me on my back for like five minutes until I realized that the only thing the jury did was look at my ass. . Sleeping with a retired photographer, I got some photos in small circulation magazines. The old man prepared one of those good "books" for me. daring ones that were circulating through advertising agencies. I got the notice from the Sunga briefs, but in the photo it was not my face that appeared, but rather my bundle wrapped to gift in a 100% cotton sunga slip. I was the anonymous lump that most straws originated in Argentina but no one knew me. Many will say that I started from the bottom, sucking cocks or letting me suck it, and I assure you it wasn't easy. I met a makeup artist (the sucked wonderfully) who had been the partner of one of those sissy full of feathers, who in turn was a costume designer for an actress, she was a very whore, that in his free time he walked. But I don't know if he went to bed. with a producer fat and unpleasant who co-produced novels with Mexico, and through my friend the makeup artist I reached the costume designer, Xavier Parota, better known as the Jorgelina, , who to get me an interview with the actress, (if that's what You imagine, the one who lived for a year with an old Italian millionaire in exchange from a house in Barrio Parque), he asked that I let him blow me. Jorgelina was a big woman of 1.87 and 109 kilos who He took everything to his apartment decorated with multicolored fans, the feathers of a turkey real, Ringo Starr posters little fish and fish tanks and three poodle dogs whites, and without further ado, he put on a bib (one of those cloths that They are put around babies' necks so they don't get their clothes dirty) and after to play a Puccini aria, she proceeded to suck my member with great fuss and remarkable technical knowledge but I, connoisseur of the tricks of this noble profession, of an actor, don't think badly, I tried not to end up pretending that this was not allowed to me because it was the Jewish holiday of Yom Kippur (although I am not Jewish). The fat woman was compliant with her blood (or milk) pacts as in this case) and introduced me to the fat Argentine soap opera producer Mexican women, who when he received me had fought with the actress and was now dating Luciano Carroza, the hairdresser to the stars, yes, that one with the look of Marilyn Monroe of underdevelopment. The guy, whose stage name was Alvaro de Quesadilla but who is actually called Adalberto Caputoste, dedicated five minutes to me, told me that I didn't see any conditions, that my voice was very dysphonic, that the type of gallant I thought my physique was out of fashion and other nonsense. But when I left He asked for the phone number and days later I moved into his apartment on the street. Paraná, as his new lover and protégé. My lover couldn't stop, so his eldest satisfaction consisted of giving me oral sex, without his false teeth or his hairdresser, nor the shaves that I used daily. So it wasn't difficult endure a month in which I allowed a mummy to suck me night after night toothless bare and pale as the moon. But Alvaro introduced me to a producer for an audition that It was fixed and among two hundred candidates I "got" the role of Pablo María in the novel "Your father does not exist and your mother did not give birth to you" (that's what they called her in Mexico) and in Argentina it was known as "Exemplary Lives". The criticism was unanimous, I had a lot of self-confidence but no I knew how to act. One critic was very destructive and judged me "the worst actor since the time of Orlando Ontiveros (1925-1948). Don't laugh, I even cried because of that criticism and I swore to take revenge on Jose Curía the critic. I broke up with Alvaro (he actually replaced me with a transvestite bald mezzo-soprano) and I became involved with the producer of the novel, Máximo Trapeche, known as "Porota" in the Buenos Aires environment, who promised and got a better role for that novel than you probably they enjoyed and that it was called "The Woman of Fire", and that in Argentina, it was known like "La Quemada" by the protagonist, Lupita Fermín, who has more kilometers of flight than ten veteran pilots. I went to all the parties, invited or not, I managed to infiltrate, I appeared in every photo I could next to the most famous and photographed, attended to all the national film and theater premieres, I walked around because restaurant was frequented by the perfumed Argentine artistic showbiz, and I made time to attend to my fan club, because I, as they see me, already He was a popular gallant. At a party on a boat, I met Ricardo Pizarro, artist representative, and after a night of intense sex in the middle of the waves, I got my agent and manager out, although our relationship was not entirely commercial. He always called me (with the promise of a role) to He caught it when the hole bit him. One day already consecrated, I got tired and told him that someone else would be found to scratch the hole. On Pizarro's advice and to strengthen my macho image, They invented an advertising romance for me with Lupita Fermín's daughter, Canderlaria but no one believed it, not for me, I hope, but for the girl, who was the lover of the heavy rock singer and lesbian activist Zulema Marrón, the Pocho. With this I starred in a police series, which you surely remember. It was called "Copper Skin", in which there was no shortage of nude scenes and other provocations. Sex with Pocho, of course, was non-existent, but not with the Director, a very cool Venezuelan, who promised me a stellar one with Evelyn Cobarrubias, if who has had surgery so many times that his skin is stretched all the way to his sweet bone. How well the Venezuelan took. I'm not going to deny it. I was like They say in Mexico great. And love? And so I was, touched by everyone like a two-peso bill, ascending the elevator of so many beds and sofas, delivered to so many interested and aimless relationships, consecrated as the average sex-symbol Latin America and my personal life was a total failure. He lived in a big house, in an elegant neighborhood, but the Sundays were days in which he spent it alone, until José Luis arrived to ask help for a nearby parish and it was raining, and everything was wet, and my dogs They had torn his gym pants and I offered him passage. and I gave him one towel to dry a little, and I served him a double coffee to help him pass the cold, and I lent him my clothes and slippers to change, and I heard him talk about such a different world, a world where nothing is sold but everything silk. He told me about his projects and his shortcomings, and when night fell I asked him to stay, and at first he didn't want to and we continued talking and We ate something, and he played the guitar and sang and asked me why I was crying and I wasn't. I knew how to answer... We made love with the light on because I'm afraid of darkness and his skin was so soft, as if he were a child at 30 years old, and his hands that were those of a worker had a warmth that pierced my skin, and her mouth delivered in a thousand sweet, moist kisses, and her hair falling on my forehead, and her legs tangled in mine, and that simple love that I I didn't know flowing from his beautiful and soft cock, from his almost hairless balls, the heat from her ass, from her skin impregnating my skin that is too tanned and unreal, It purified me. I sucked it with dedication, like someone who wants to obtain a mana divine, a purifying water that would wash away all my baseness and make me forget a high and meaningless price paid with the body and dignity. Her milk tasted to vanilla, to nectar, to honey, and when it ended up on my face so many times photographed, I felt that it was a rain that cleansed, that drop by drop led to another life, one that we deserved to live. galansoy. I would appreciate your comments on that story. Write to galansoy@hotmail.com