Ten-up: a decade of 'Wrong Way Corrigan — The Blog'

@wwaycorrigan

[Listen to an audio version of this blog entry here.]

Ten years ago today, sat in Bogotá's popular Cranky Croc hostel and based on advice from an Indian friend I knew from my Belfast days, I started a Google-hosted blog.

Where will the next ten years bring us?

Google blogger, my acquaintance told me — he knew much more about these things than me, although that wasn't hard at the time — was blogging for dummies compared to the likes of WordPress (via El Tiempo, I've subsequently become au fait with various aspects of the latter).

Putting the world right, the Wrong Way

With the prospect of staying in Colombia for a time on the cards — I certainly didn't think that over a decade later I'd still be here — I wanted my own space to share my thoughts and views.

You see, whilst working as a broadcaster for Ladbrokes bookmakers in Belfast from 2009 to 2011, I became a serial letter writer to the Irish daily and Sunday newspapers. I touched on various topics, things I couldn't really get off my chest in the day job (although I did try, at times, to mention them in between greyhound races from such exotic locations as Monmore and Romford).

Rants to colleagues, housemates and down at the local pub weren't enough. I was a curmudgeon in my mid-20s you could say. And I felt that as much of the world as possible needed to know my thoughts. 

'Who knows how rich I'd be today had Google AdSense not suspended its services on this page for six years due to unspecified "irregular activity".'

Once the first few letters were published, this gave me the belief that at least some editors found what I had to say interesting. Or controversial. It became something of an addiction — I just wanted more, more, more.

However, moving continents and consequently not being as tuned in to events back home meant it became less likely that my musings would appear in Irish newspapers with the same regularity as before.

In any case, I couldn't be leaving it up to the whim of an editor to get my, um, profound perspective on the world "out there" (the way things are in these crazy, heavily censored pandemic days, that point has taken on extra pertinence now).

Hence the creation of the blog. The medium was kind of all the rage back then, although I may have been a little late to the game. Other, more visual media were beginning to take over.

Be that as it may, Wrong Way Corrigan — The Blog has survived, for better or for worse.

At its birth, I flirted with the idea of giving it a more Colombian specific name but I figured I may not be in the country too long, so I didn't want it associated with one particular place over another.

Call it a lack of ambition or a failure to think big, but I always saw it as a means to an end, not an end in itself.

That aside, who knows how rich I would have been today had Google AdSense not suspended its services on this page for six years due to unspecified 'irregular activity'. I could have made at least 100 euros by now. Rich beyond the dreams of avarice, eh?

Nonetheless, and fittingly enough, it all started with The wages of love, something of a motif over these last ten years, writing about affairs of the heart. A mixture of bad romances and financial woes, in a way. Three hundred and eighty-three posts later, it could be said, plus ça change.

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The wages of love

'There are two chief ways a man can have sex — pay for it or get it for free. I've come to the conclusion that it's cheaper in the long-term — and indeed short-term — to pay for it.'

Now, I won’t take credit for that quotation – nor indeed do I want to – but I have to say it’s beginning to make a lot of sense for me of late. 

Who actually first said it, of that I’m not sure, but it was relayed to me by a close friend some years back. And while I always thought it was an amusing quote, I never really appreciated its true value. Until now that is.

Up until a few weeks ago, I thought the days of men paying for everything on dates with the fairer (or should that be not very fair) sex had long gone. Even here, in South America, my experiences heretofore had been pretty balanced when it came to picking up the tab on nights out with women. Indeed, on many occasions, as a frugal backpacker, the settled locals wouldn’t let me pay for anything. Great work if you can get it, eh? 

I’m seeing the other side of things now, though. And that side comes in the form of an extremely attractive, 21-year-old Medellín-born Bogotá resident.

Nice view, but where is the love?

It’s at that early stage where I’m still wondering if she's just using me to have free nights out – you know, the rich (if only she knew), white Western guy – or does she genuinely have feelings for me. 

Two dates down and about $120,000 Colombian pesos less well-off (roughly €45, but put into context six nights' accommodation in a Bogotá hostel — cheers to the Cranky Croc, there) and the doubts are beginning to creep in. 

Yes, it’s early days. But no we haven’t slept together yet — the lack of private accommodation on my part and a strict Christian grandmother on hers have put paid to that. Well, at least that’s what I’m telling myself.

Now, from what I know of her so far, she seems pretty cool and she’s somebody I’m willing to give it a go with — my pretty average Spanish makes up somewhat for her poor English. 

In fact, for once I feel I’ve the slight upper hand on the language barrier front. It’s the fact that when it comes to paying the bills, my money’s the only one that talks in this budding relationship — I’m finding that a bit unsettling, especially considering I’ve yet to get a job here if indeed I will at all. 

Yes, it’s the culture here and if I genuinely like the girl I should have no qualms about it — but for how long will it go on this way? 

Is it worth, quite literally, going for broke in a country where gorgeous women rival in number the millions of dollars Pablo Escobar amounted in his prime. Well, maybe not as much as that, but there are plenty of beautiful ladies here all the same.
 

You see, I have it on good authority that for the same $120,000 pesos that I have thus far "invested" in my little beauty, you can call into the many strip clubs here and take your pick. 

OK, it’s a one-night stand (well, a whole night might be pushing it at that price). However, unlike a relationship that you invest time and effort in but might ultimately end in failure, you’ll have no baggage.

Of course, the strip club way is easy. For many, the thrill of the pick-up is what counts; spotting the girl you want, the initial flirting, the apprehension as to whether or not you’ll get your "prize", the satisfaction when it works out, the disappointment when it doesn’t.

But it can’t disguise the fact that you pay for it either way. One way by stealth — dating being the official term I believe — the other being a more open, transparent way where the rules are a bit more clear-cut.

I suppose it comes down to what you want from it all. If it’s only about satisfying your short-term needs, the clear-cut way should suffice. 

However, if you’re at that stage where you feel it’s time to give a relationship a blast — warts and all — the roller-coaster lifestyle of the dating game awaits, if you’re lucky. Or is that unlucky? Of course, you can always dabble in both.

Time and — more pertinently, perhaps — money permitting that is.