Defective Wedding Ring

I think my wedding ring is defective.

It only scares off the good guys. Instead of waylaying my married, fifty year old Costa Rican suitor, it has only served as a twisted conversation starter. His goodbye kisses on the cheek have not halted, and I am still being offered a place in his palatial dwelling in the rainforest. While I could have used it to frighten off the one guy I found who spoke English at the Guatemalan Folk Festival, instead he chooses to try to neck me. When I protest that I have a husband, he only asks if he is here in Xela. If not, it doesn't matter. I quickly made my way to my old language school, which has a gated entrance that I swiftly closed behind me.

My bosses at the small language school hit on me, and ogle me while I wait for my student. If that is not horrible enough, they keep trying to avoid paying me! I'm through!

So now I'm going to have to have my friend Oscar come pick me up and pretend to be my husband. This could get a little awkward, but if it stops my bosses and students from hitting on me, I'm all for it. I am sick of being ogled and harassed.