Readers' Submissions

Middle Age Rambling

  • Written by Anonymous
  • October 12th, 2013
  • 4 min read


I thought about her last night. Not the same way as two years ago when I met her in Bangkok. Just simply remembering her. She is a lost soul. I am lost too.

I shut my phone. I do this often. I like my quiet surroundings. And nobody important is calling me these days for anything important. Middle age for a single man is not a big party. Middle age? What is age is that? I am 58. Is that middle age or end age? I Googled “middle age”. I think it is 40 to 60. Thank God I am not old yet. The only thing is that I do not feel old in any way. 48 may be old. But I do not feel 48.

I went to sleep and I saw that somebody tried to call me. The caller I.D. showed her number. I remember her number. I must have dialed it a million times two years ago when I came back from Thailand. In those days, I thought that she could be rehabilitated. I offered her marriage and a normal life. Why wouldn’t she take it?

I did not meet her in a bar. I don’t understand how anybody could fall in love with a prostitute knowing that she is a prostitute. It does not make sense. But through my communication with her for five months it became obvious to me that she is a prostitute. For five months my head was spinning. She is an expert in spinning heads. I guess they all are. She could lie forever. It did not matter what I said or did. I got her out of my system. It was a fantasy. That’s her job. She creates fantasies. But her life is no fantasy. I would not want to be in her place.

I called her back. What do I have to lose? It’s not like young women are calling me to chat with me often. I was young once. Things were different. But the tears have passed by. And here I am.

Déjà vu. She is not answering the cell phone. She is probably with a customer. Who cares? I try again a few times. She answers the phone.

– How are you?
– Ok. I call you because I want tell you something not good

Yes. Sure. Like you called me to make me happy. Of course it’s not good. What’s your bullshit for today?

– What happened?
– I have boyfriend
– And?
– I think I leave my husband next year
– What is not good?
– I don’t know if boyfriend good
– I want to ask you a question
– What question? I forget English
– How old are you now?
– 31
– You never want normal life? (I try to make my English understood to her)
– I luve you before but because of you I don’t luve you now
– I understand
– Impossible for you and me
– It’s ok. You want somebody with money
– No. I want somebody luve me and my mother and my father
– I don’t have money for your mother and father. I am not rich
– Because you think I’m prostitute
– I think you are beautiful
– I work in shop. I have customer now. Goodbye
– Goodbye
– Sometimes I miss you. Now I have customer. Goodbye

It is amazing how two years ago she was able to push my buttons. Every conversation with her was confusing and I was trying to understand her and straighten things out. Now I know I am talking to a prostitute beyond any hope of rehabilitation. Who knows what her problem is. She does not even conceptualize normal life. It is not a consideration for her to be honest with herself for one moment.

In 12 years I’ll be 70 years old. Is that a joke? At my age I know how fast 12 years go by. I am happy about one thing. God exists. This would have been a joke until 10 years ago. I am not joking now. I know that God exists and I can prove it. I thought about this. I figured it out in a rational and logical manner. Where do you think you came from? One egg and one sperm. Your mother ate tomatoes and from those tomatoes you got a brain, heart, neurological system, etc. How does this happen? Who is doing it? If you tell me evolution I will puke. Evolution what? Scientists are saying it. I used to believe what scientists say. How do they know what happened 17 billion years ago? They still have not decided if eggs are healthy for us or if they give us heart attacks. The eggs are here now, not 17 billion years ago. And they don’t know.

I hung up the phone. Poured a glass of milk and decided to write this work of art for stickman readers. I can tell that there are many middle age men reading visiting this website. So I shared my thoughts with you guys. What am I supposed to do? Share this with a prostitute from Thailand. If I took five years to explain to her what I just wrote, she would not understand. I am not even sure that she would be able to concentrate on what I am saying while she is sucking dicks and probably on ya ba.




Stickman says:

These girls never close the door, do they? They leave it just a little bit open…