Let's be an earnest, idealistic gayling working for an NGO!

I'm the once a week hot shower.

I'm the liberal arts degree from a quasi-Ivy League University (think Wesleyan, Oberlin).

I'm the hunky native man said gayling had a brief affair with. He did not get me a green card, as promised.

There you go, started you off OP ;)

I'm the locals always asking him if he's married yet.

What is Ngo?

R4, non-governmental organization

^ * non-government organization

Wait, non-governmental organization is the correct terminology.

I'm the slow realisation this was a big mistake and I'm wasting my prime years in a cock-free grief-hole.

I'm the underaged local boy with whom he has sex, resulting in his organization quietly transferring him back stateside after paying off the police.

I'm the awkward moment when one of the locals tries to set him up with somebody's sister or daughter.

I'm the locals who, angered by his out-and-proud answer to R3, beat him to a pulp.

I'm the non internet which means no Grindr.

I'm the grad school and language courses which didn't quite prepare him for this level of immersion.

I'm the thick black and brown cock of some of the residents in the country where I'm located. Of course I've fantasized about hot encounters where I suck and fuck a group of these men. But, nothing happens. I'm too careful and really don't know how to go about propositioning anyone. So I settle for fellow NGO worker cock.

Perfect photo

I'm the rope the locals hang him with.

I'm the shipment of Trader Joes goods he orders that will arrive a month later

I'm the hot young leader of the revolutionary workers rights party he has a major crush on.

I'm straight, but savvy enough to know what's up and so I flirt with him and flatter him so that he'll allow us to use his flat as a safe house.

I'm the conversation he and his lesbian friend who works at a related NGO frequently have about working pro bono to help out the local LGBTQIA group.

But after its leaders were arrested and carted off to prison, I've pretty much remained a conversation.

I'm the hot closeted guy working for a Christian charity he frequently sees at expat parties.

He's convinced that one day he's going to turn me.

I'm the sense of dread he has every time he looks at gay porn which is illegal here and he doesn't really trust the whole VPN thing.

I’m the Personal Statement section of the idealistic gayling’s future law school application that will discuss how this transformative experience of living and working in a third world hellhole awakened a passionate interest in international human rights law blah blah blah.

I'm the mosquito netting around his bed and the hot, steamy jungle humidity.

I’m the underground drug he gets hooked on out of boredom. I could be heroin, khat, bath salts, coca leaves, or ayahuasca. Doesn’t matter; I’ll fuck up his life no matter what.

I’m fufu for breakfast, lunch and dinner every single day.

I'm the clean-cut Mormon missionaries who ride into town, fresh on their mission to proselytize, perfectly fluent in whatever the obscure, local dialect is.

R22 funny

Who's the guy in the OP? He looks hot and nice, I'd cuddle up with him.

I'm the application form to grad school that he fills out after only three weeks of being in this shithole country.

I am the White Savior complex that propels me forward.

I'm the cute Macaque monkey that bites our earnest gayling at the outdoor welcome party.

I'm the overworked native Dr. who gives earnest gayling an emergency rabies shot in the ass for the monkey bite. It hurts a lot.

I’m the constant stream of requests for loans, which have no chance of being repaid.

I'm the leeches he emerges with when he takes a nude dip at the local swimming hole.

I'm the shortwave radio used in the early 1990s while living in a mud hut. Does BBC World Service still exist?

I'm one of the villager men peaking as he showers.

I'm his rich parents. Mother is proud of her son's principles and loves nothing more than to brag to her country club frenemies about the natives his presence is saving. She really doesn't know what those poor natives would do without him, he's such a hero. All those extracurriculars and arranged playdates until he was 19 have really paid off.

Father, on the other hand, feels only irritation. His gay son has already cost him over 300k since he turned 18, but will cost him much more since they're paying five grand a month for the unoccupied New York apartment he'll never be able to afford on his own. He sometimes feels the urge to introduce his gay son as his daughter, which makes him laugh a little inside, but refrains from doing so partly for fear of being branded homophobic, and partly because he doesn't really want to remind himself that Mother would only allow one child and he's it. Whenever he meets his son's boyfriends, and there have been many of them, he studies them intently for the slightest sign of effeminacy so he can at least convince himself that his gay son isn't the woman. Deep down he knows the truth.

I'm the long hand letters written by candlelight.

I am the monstrous deferred student loans.

I'm the first giant uncut cock he experiences.

What's his name?

I'm the Yaba pills originally used to help tackle the massive workload, but are quickly turning into an ugly habit.

I'm the villager who finally asks him if he's a man who goes up into the other man?

I'm his NGO's very niche mission -- helping promote sustainable, ecologically-sound soy farming practices with the girls and women of rural [insert country].

I’m the nothing that his work accomplishes. Ultimately he’s here to feel better about himself (making a difference!). Also it’s an adventure, better than getting a job, and great for grad school applications.

I'm the bout of malaria.

I’m the box of Imodium, almost empty, being carried around in his cargo shorts pocket.

Who the hell is the guy in the pic? Hot!

I'm the blue balls he must have a few months in.

This must describe a few posters. You bitches know your stuff!

I'm the lesbian friend at R19. My name is Moon.

I'm the unemployability after this gig.

I’m the realization that volunteering to help build huts is so far from solving the problem that it’s meaningless. By 30, I’ve accepted that world systems create the issues and changing those is almost impossible.

I'm the one internet cafe in the next biggest near town -- at least an hour away.

Im his big cock that needs to be sucked

I'm that wide-eyed enthusiasm slowly morphing into a bottle of gin and regrets.

R28 It's some guy from the Peace Corps according to the url.

Ok here's a positive very non-pc-dl take.

I'm the affirmative life shaping experience of helping others less fortunate that this will turn out to be.

I'm the vegetarian diet he thinks he'll be able to sustain.

I'm the astonishment that all the local men have this excess skin hanging over the top of their penises. I never saw anything like that back home in Rochester, MN.

I'm HIV/AIDS I'm rife in this region.

Who's actually done this our something like it? It sounds like some of you have. Where, how, why?

I'm the Charley Project page that will be created shortly after he goes missing in the depths of the local forest. No one knows what could have possibly lured him into the lush, mysterious forest.

[quote] I'm the astonishment that all the local men have this excess skin hanging over the top of their penises. I

And I'm the astonishment the local men have over how white his ass is.

I'm the Locked Up Abroad episode that recounts how I was kidnapped by guerillas, and then blindfolded and placed in a holding cage at their compound. They thought I worked for the US embassy. When they found out I was eco-farming soy with the women folk they tossed my ass out.

I'm the community elder men talking to each other and wondering why they sent us this gay boy.

r16 that's a waste of good rope, we use machetes

Damn, some of you whores are dark.

He can’t get enough of my cock.

Come sit by me, R37.

I'm the third bout of dysentery this year. I've got him just a little scared of his ass.

Fuck the "poor country" and "shit holes". I'm the idealistic gayling working on some princeling's or sovereign's vanity "humanity" project. My personal living conditions are excellent, and we're doing somewhat good work. All the gorgeous rich VIPs in the ruling gratin operate on "don't ask don't tell". Homos a plenty. Palaces, yachts, fleets of luxury cars. Jetting to Cannes, Marbella, Paris, Geneva, Vienna, London, New York for planning sessions (R&R).

R72 sounds suspiciously like that derp-faced Alam Wernik.

[quote]Jetting to...

Cannes: tired, boring, and overpriced

Marbella: trashy and filled with Saudis

Paris: locked down and danger of beheadings

Geneva: boring and filled with war criminals

Vienna: dull and unsexy, too Catholic

London: chavs, twits, and stabbings

New York: oh, you're a commuter

I'm the eventual job in finance/investment banking after business school due to the erosion of wanting to "do good" and the corresponding rise in wanting to just make money.

R72 fake news

After I finish in Rwanda I'm returning to Cleveland to work on Bernie's 2024 campaign for President!

R77, lol.

I'm the gnarly beard he'll grow by the end of the year.

I'm the seemingly incurable case of Athlete's Foot and Jock Itch that he'll develop and never be able to kick - even after his return to the US.

I'm the guy who was in the Peace Corps in his early 20s (right out of university) and who will join the PC again in his late 50s (right after retirement) Cool, huh? Circle of life! PC needs more "elder" volunteers. Who will join with me??!

I'm the village of pygmies where he lives.

I'm the excitement of visiting the big city once a month with the one gay bar.

You seem awesome, r81! I would love to join the Peace Corps in my older years

R62, sort of. In Peru for half a year, but I loved it! And at least I wasn't the only gay in the village -- that might be rough.

I'm the same food everyday.

I think you mixed up the episodes, R65. I’m the episode of Locked Up Abroad featuring the NGO lad who was just sentenced to 30 years in prison for possession of marijuana, shrooms and MDMA. He claims he was ignorant of the harshness of local drug laws (despite the dire warnings issued in the training program), but really he figured that, as a rich American – a redundant phrase in this part of the world – he was above the law.

He won't serve the full 30 years. H won't even serve 3 years. His parents and, covertly, his NGO will grease the right palms in this impoverished shithole. At the same time, the State Department will take up his cause to make the current president look good. Then, yet another coup will put a different tyrant in power, one who wants to curry favor with the US government, and he'll come home to be proclaimed a hero for no discernible reason.

Despite having served less than a year, he will come home dangerous underweight and infested with parasites. His health will be ruined for the rest of my life. He'll wish he had stayed home in Chevy Chase.

OP's guy is nerdy cute.

I'm the watery stool. Brown water pouring outta my ass. Comes and goes (literally) throughout my entire service abroad. I master squattering over a pit toilet. Years later, back in the U.S., I have my first colonoscopy at age 50. I must drink a "prep solution" the day before the procedure. Wow, lots of watery stool (brown water) pouring outta my ass! Just like old times!

I'm the sacrificed goat at the outdoor welcome party

R89 yuck!

R89, that's life. Best enema ever.

sounds like my idea of hell!

I'm the disillusionment and tears.

I'm the initial excitement about making a difference!

I'm cobra bites, malaria and dengue fever.

No one comes here. Can I join then? Will there be food? I'm used to snakes bugs and dengue. Where do I sign up?

R96 For the win No matter how bad your 2020 sucked, it can’t compare with the Brit who has dengue, malaria, covid and was bitten by a king cobra.

Im the horrific nightmares caused by the Malaria meds. The worst was the one I had covid, malaria, dengue and was bitten by a king cobra leaving me blind and paralyzed.

I was actually an earnest, idealistic gayling in the Peace Corps many years ago. It was a great experience but there was no denying that back in the 1970s, the Peace Corps was the secular equivalent of joining a seminary. So many closeted gay guys running away from home to figure out who they were.

Lots of sex. Lots of tears. Lots of drama.

I'm the sound of howler monkeys interrupting his early morning j/o session.

I’m the leaves he has to wipe his ass with

[Quote] Lots of sex. Lots of tears. Lots of drama.

R100 you were young.

I'm the fire ants that crawled up Gayling's butt and bit him by the hole.

R104, lol, and ouch.

This sounds like me circa 1977.

I'm Javier, the local with a massive pinga, taking our boy by surprise at the sugarcane field.

I'm the lesbian-sounding thesis title he's working on.

Yikes R96.

I'm the non potable water

I'm the one who has to ask if she's OK, because the Duchess of Sussex is visiting.

I'm the case of crabs

I'm the no potential for growth