I am smart enough to know I am an idiot sometimes. I better find the dummy and toss him out. I guess this is why I write: maybe the letters into words will teach me how not to lose what is dear. Then again, maybe I shall just remain an inhabitant of Wankerland.
I not only struggle with infidelity, but somehow create situations that create the situations. I came up with the idea of going to Thailand with my Filipina wife after seeing the movie The Beach. Then again, maybe it was after seeing pictures
of Thailand beaches adorned by Thai femmes. Are they not as a group a beautiful lot with their honey eyes and smiles that can melt butter from the coldest fridge?
I came upon the first flowers after we transferred from Japan Airlines to Thai Airlines in Osaka. Why do they smile at you with such charm that your heart thrills and is called to temptation, and maybe ruin?
And yet, it is a moron's beat, for sitting next to me is that cute little sexy Filipina package that shows me love in her looks and loyalty, that cleans the dirt from me in the rooms of our house, and before I fall asleep, kisses my
forehead; and makes the sign of the cross upon me frequently because she believes, and believes in me.
I know I go on and on about my inner contest between the right thing of marriage relations, and the wrong of other women. For some on this site, struggles involve so many other different things. Perhaps the commonality is the choice of going
down the rabbit hole or staying above ground. When one breaks from Stick wisdom and continues with that bar girl, a choice is made and consequences follow. One knows better, and yet surrenders because it feels so damn good. For a while. Until
the world reveals itself round and the smiles of the doll concede to the rolling for pounds or dollars or whatever is the currency. Is not this site largely of conceits, and tales of woe, with the occasional happy story to provide the random reinforcements
like a slot machine in a casino?
Why are so many of us drawn to this site?
I had thought the dangers of Thailand would involve the possibilities of happy endings in the massage parlors, or the waving of the colours of the bargirls, as I sat in bars while my wife shopped. And I would resist the offers and feel superior
and end the day into night with only the brown thighs of my wife next to me. But the dummy gods decided the test would come from a red haired lass from Aberdeen.
Why would I put my marriage in danger? Why do we choose to stray from the good we know? I think some on this site might say, we go for the pleasure principle because our brains are hard wired, to get hard. But I've read the stories for
three years and the dramas of this site speak of deeper things.
I think one of the reasons some of us come to this site is to discover more of ourselves by listening to others. It would be too much to say of this site that literature lives here, but some of the themes are found in pages bound.
So what am I blubbering about here? I am trying to understand myself so that I might save myself. For the choices I make are true effect in outcome of my life. And I draw breath and feel happy or sad, and as you read this, I am a real person
in crisis: As the people who write their stories here are not the melodramatic plastics of television: the drops of blood from our choices become red as the oxygen meets.
I get interested in many of the threads. Will Holt tire of his quieter pastures? Will Brokenman find love again? What is real of Dana and what is fantasy? And who is Stick and what is his story?
As for me, I realise the past is a force. Will my father's affairs determine that I have mine? Can not trying to know oneself break the chain?
And what to do as I open the door, and see Aberdeen standing there, and hearing behind me my wife approach? The walls of the room may collapse and bury me.
I feel spinning and wait for the enfolding: perhaps of doom, though the deepest part of me now wants the safest rescue.
I hear my wife begin to scream.
Oh, more about the Aberdeen affair please!