Free A Consumer's Guide to Male Hustlers by Joseph Itiel

options for them. They are much more careful about not losing their housing, abysmal as it may be, because it is irreplaceable. For a description of such living conditions see Philippine Diary: A Gay Guide to the Philippines , Joseph Itiel (San Francisco: International Wavelength, 1989), p. 50.
    This control is usually related to their relatively stable living conditions. Street hustlers (at least in the United States) tend to move from one slum hotel to the next, renting rooms by the night or the week. (The smarter ones, if they have the money, pay by the month.) To meet the rent deadline (which always seems to be tomorrow at noon!) full-time hustlers must turn tricks now. The hustlers' tension, when trying to clinch the sale in order to pay the rent, spooks some clients. The part-time hustlers, with a secure living place, have an easier time of it.
    For many other reasons, part-time hustlers tend do better on the street than the full timers. They are cleaner, more relaxed, and they are in a position to make and keep future appointments with their clients. Eventually, with enough regulars, they do not need to spend much time on the street. The greatest achievement of street hustlers is to become part-time hustlers.
    Without permanent living quarters, full-time hustlers are without a phone and a mailing address. This makes it all but impossible for them to find a job even if they want to do so. If they somehow manage to find one, they have tremendous difficulties in coordinating their erratic hustling hours with their job schedule.
    I have known a lot of hustlers who received some sort of welfare. The "elite" manage to receive SSI, almost always for being mentally ill. Their mental condition is usually not reflected in their sexual performance. The following anecdote is a good illustration.
    I met Peter when he was twenty-eight years old. He was an ethnic mixture of Native American, Filipino, and African, and was very handsome. Unfortunately, he had a sweet tooth, and was on his way to becoming seriously chubby. I liked him for his cheerful disposition and for his lustful, yet gentle and caring, sexuality. He reminded me of the hippies of yore, always speaking of love and peace, and using expressions like "groovy." Though he was a street hustler, sometimes even homeless, he was quite good about keeping appointments. I knew he did a lot of drugs but that was usual for a guy in his circumstances.
    One day he called me from the psychiatric ward of San Francisco General. He begged me to visit him there. As soon as I was let through the security door, Peter grabbed me and, kissing me passionately, waltzed me into a private visiting cubicle. I was somewhat embarrassed by the spectacle we made, but, after all, it was a mental ward where patients were expected to behave strangely. In a psychiatric ward, being kissed by Peter was not the worst thing that could have happened to me. Later, I found out from the nurse that I was his only visitor. Apparently, he tried to show the other patients that he, too, had friends.
    He had been committed for observation. A few days earlier, under the influence of drugs, he had disturbed the peace by yelling at passers-by, including a police sergeant. He was released after a few days. During our next sex session he was even more passionate than before. Maybe this was his way of repaying me for my visit.
    A month later, he wound up at the hospital once again. This time, as a condition for not pressing charges or committing him, he had to agree to live in a halfway house for nine months. I would pick him up there between his three mandatory daily meetings. "What happens at these meetings?" I asked.
    "We talk about not using."
    "Not using what?"
    He was surprised by my lack of worldliness. "Drugs, Joseph!"
    "What else do you talk about?"
    "What else is there to talk about?"
    "The future. Didn't you tell me once that you had never held a job? What happens once you are out on your own?"
    "Well, all they