" Hey, Pig…piggy pig pig…" Trent Reznor, Nine Inch Nails
We step off the boat into the hot air and bright sun and the energy that is Bangkok. We look up and see the concrete of the skytrain above. There are many Thais around. I always really just look at the females, especially the perfect packages of beautiful faces and bodies you wanna wrap your hands around, and let your fingers search the pink places.
I am with my Filipina wife. She is young and pretty and way too good for me. Why the hell do I look at other women? We don't go up to the skytrain but walk along streets below that trail it. We notice a hairdressing place. My wife says she wants to get her hair "bonded", a straightening process. It will take several hours. I tell her I'll go get a drink.
I find my way to the next skytrain stop. Walk up and get a ticket. I get on. Get off at "Nana".
It is afternoon, around two. I enter a bar on the ground floor. It is pretty busy for this time of day. It is full of foreign men and young Thai women whose make-up is not of innocence. I take a seat with an empty one next to it. I order a beer and get it pretty quick. As I am drinking a young woman and foreign man take the seats next to me. The woman is the closest to me. The tall rather bloated looking fellow of 40 seems rather drunk and has his hands all over the woman. Suddenly, as I am just sitting there, I feel her hand touching lightly one of my thighs.
What is she doing? Trying to make the man jealous? Wanting to get rid of him and trying to interest me? I really am not comfortable with either possibility.
Anyway, he looks down and notices her hand on me. He looks at me and is not a happy man. In a loud voice he says, "No offence mate…but…FUC OFF. . .leave." One of the main lessons of my twenties, one of the only ones actually learned, was to avoid bar fights. Probably more men die in bars than in prisons or small wars.
Have I not learned martial arts? Have I not seen every Bruce Lee movie? Also, I have never, ever, ever lost a fight.
Hmmm… Yes, but, in my martial arts training – gung fu, I was fast and furious, incredible looking in the gym. But I did tend to disappear during sparring. I really don't like being hit.
And, even though I have never lost a fight in my life, three of the four were before the sixth grade, and my only adult battle was with my younger brother, which I guess doesn't count.
The bar became quiet. The people around were waiting and watching.
I raised my hands to him, but then opened them, said, "No, problem," and left the bar. As I was leaving I overheard someone say…"punk ass…"
I admit to being excited in Bangkok around thousands of Asian spices. Why the turn to Asian fem face? Because of their twin molds of creamy silken ass? Their slim sides of back and legs? Breasts small but round and perfectly formed and soft?
Yep, those seem like good reasons.
I walked back to the hair saloon and checked in. Wifey was talking away in English with one of the workers and having a wonderful time as the focus was on her, and her hair.
She would be another couple of hours. I went back out thinking maybe I would get a nice massage.
I walked a street and passed the entrance to what appeared to be a girl's college. There were many beauties in school uniforms. I began to understand the Japanese male just a micro atom more, as these bodies in uniform were quite sexy to me.
Then again, I always seem to be thinking about women. And often the thoughts are of those hilly playing fields that define the female form.
So much of our stuff has gotta be hard-wired into our reptilian brain, right? I mean, for example, by itself, thinking artistic like, how can a clam looking organ attract such fire energy that the male wants to attach to it? It's not the look of it: it's our brain instinct involving touch and smell and our needs from the prehistoric. In high school we, boys and girls, would flirt and talk around and joke about our sexual interest in each other.
A teacher once told us : "Stop already with all this hormone stuff. It's just rods and cones. Rods going into cones." She was great at getting across the basics.
Anyway, I keep walking, and come across a massage place. It is small with only two women inside. One lady looking early 20s and the other older, maybe in her 30s.
Which one to pick?
Easy. I chose the younger one.
She took me into a room in the back. I showered and then laid down with a small towel covering my lower back.
She spoke a little English. Said she had a son but the father was not around. Stickman cliché stuff.
I liked her fingers more than her story. I loved the massage, especially when she accidently brushed the boys.
She then asked me something sweet.
What to answer?
I love my wife. The main thing in life she wants from me is to be faithful to her.. (Besides sending money home to her family and me buying her things, and buying her things… .)
But sex to me is one special area, and all things non-intercourse are other territory.
I thought of all the advice given on Stickman site. Nah, no one listens to advice. Why should I?
But how could I let myself be blown past strawberry hills when I had my soul mate and true love just a small distance away getting her hair bonded?
Should I say yes to exotic fast food?
Yet, for fries, kingdoms have fallen.
With my wife I have her love and whole body. And yet my eyes always search for a new camel toe.
(If you search Google for this image you get to snicker.) Should I look up when I hear the call—"Hey, pig…"
Some of us have the most special lass of Asian ass and yet risk it for something "new."
But then, after all: pigs are only human.