Back to where you once belong

Back in my home country, visiting family, stuck on a mountain with nothing of interest to do in any direction. I got sick of the atmosphere inside my parents house and escaped outside to sit at the bus stop, doing nothing but wish that issues dealing with my family weren't so complicated making me want to constantly leave and get as far away as possible. A different country perhaps? Japan sounds good.
The sun burned down quite brightly that day. I sat under the covers of the bus stop shade and tried to look at my phone screen but there was still too much glare to see clearly and my sweaty hands were sliding across the screen; I couldn’t grip and navigate my Facebook feed. It’s probably just another bunch of photos of my sister in law’s kid sleeping anyway. Again. Kids sleep. Get over it, fuck. Eventually a girl on a motorbike stops nearby. Staying there for a long while looking around in all directions in the midday heat getting sweaty. Perhaps she was waiting for someone?

Eventually, deciding that I needed a change of scenery, I got up and started walking. As I passed the girl she looked at me and said hi with a smile, sweat pouring from her face. I returned the greeting and she asked if there was somewhere nearby where she could fill up an empty bike tank. Completely in another frame of mind having spent the last bunch of days immersed in family drama, I was a little confused. I wasn’t really ready to talk to anyone. I looked around trying to think where she could go, then figured it out. It wasn’t that far so I offered to show her. She was a slim Asian not native to my country, as it seems my country is now being over run by them. We had a pleasant conversation and the thought of meeting her again was not at the top of my mind considering I was stuck in my parents house, and traveling all the way back here to pick up more Asians was not something I wanted to do. That, and she wasn’t that cute. The above points become moot in the face of a supreme hotness. Nonetheless she suggested we go for a coffee sometime and exchanged numbers.

Later over text I agreed to meet up, reasoning with myself that it would be good to be out of the house and have conversation with someone closer to my age. After I dropped her back at her place she invited me in to hang out a bit and I met her housemates who were native locals and clearly much cooler than her. We all enjoyed chatting and hanging out until I had to go. As she was showing me to my car outside and hugging me goodbye I thought, ‘why the fuck not?’ and leaned in to take kiss. She leaned away really quickly and looked at me with a mortified expression on her face. It was a really bizarre look. Her head reeled back and her eyes shot open wide with her mouth ajar. It looked like I had just stabbed her in the stomach and she saw the blood on her hands and was just realizing it. I guess she wasn’t down. Hahaha! I drove away and later got a message saying something along the lines of, “I was thinking to kiss you goodnight but I got nervous.”

The next date at her house the room mates were both out of town and we had the place to ourselves to watch a movie. She chose some movie called, ‘500 days of summer’. It’s about a lame guy who gets a crush on a chick at his work, they hook up for dates and sex and she basically uses him as a placeholder until she finds a guy her type so she drops him and gets married to this other guy. That’s the entire movie plot in one sentence. The whole time the girl is doing her best to make it clear they are only hooking up, and when she says these things in the movie, my date turns to me and says, “What do you think about that girl? What do you think about her behavior?” And she glares at me with her eyes narrowed in carefully gauging my response. Fuck I don’t want to deal with this. “The girl is just being a hot girl. She is enjoying her life.” I state back, as always, being vague; this lets the girl choose whatever meaning from that statement that she wants. But it goes over her head…”Don’t you think that the girl is bad? She is hurting the guy’s feelings. She is just playing with him.” And she wants me to say that the girl is a slut and people should only ever be together for true love… Not going there sorry. Don’t agree. “She would hurt the guy’s feelings even more if they never hooked up. This way they can at least enjoy themselves, even if it’s only for a short time. That’s better than nothing, right?” it makes sense to me at least. Not to her though.

“But if they were never together in the first place, then he would never feel the pain of loss.” Fuck this conversation, or rather, fuck this movie for bringing up this conversation. No, that’s not enough. Fuck Hollywood and everything it stands for cause it is seriously being a cock block right now.

I try to ignore the girl’s deeper questions about love and fate and give vague half assed answers cause the topic is just no fun. At least not for me, not right now. A good topic for me would be crazy hot sex. Well, not so much as a topic, but more of an activity. Anyway, the mood is serious and tense in the room and the girl is giving me coldness. Whateeeevr chick.

Finally the crap movie ends and we decide to watch another. It’s a movie called ‘the portrait of Dorian Gray.’ The blurb says it is about a man who trades his soul to live a life of endless hedonism, a topic I have more in common with. We begin to watch, and I begin to touch her legs, and her mine. We sit so close to each other she is almost on me until I go to kiss her and she stops me and looks at me with a tense expression on her face, and chokes out some tense words, “Why are you doing this?” And I’m like, “Wuuut?”

Then she gets all Dawson’s Creek drama on my shit, “What is it you want from me? Why are you here? And what am I to you? What do I mean to you? Do I mean nothing? Am I just your ‘Summer Fling’? Or what?” Each sentence coming out with extra dramatic expression and perfectly rehearsed intonation.

And I’m like… speechless.

She moves around on the couch to lie back, propping herself up with her elbows while her legs wrap around my waist. “Look, if I don’t kiss you, will you still cum?”

I stop and reflect on this question. Will I still be able to bust my load if she doesn’t make out with me? Sure I can do that. I’ve been in this position before when a girl didn’t think that it was cheating on her boyfriend if she didn’t kiss me. I sure love making out, but if I had to choose between sex or making out, I choose sex. I’m just a little puzzled by the question and how it completely nullifies the whole teenage/midday love drama tone preceding it. My puzzled expression causes her to clarify.

“Will you still come here and see me if I don’t kiss you. Will you still come to my place and be my friend?”

Well that is completely not what I was thinking she meant. Well whatever, sure I’ll hang out if there are no kisses and no romance. We can just be friends, and I let her know that. What I don’t let her know is that as long as I am a man who is sexually attracted to her, I will still try to touch her. And that is what I do. We watch the movie for a bit more until I put my hands on her legs and she pushes me away. Then I do it again. And again. And again and again. Then she grabs my hands away and still holding on to them says in a real dramatic tone, “Stop it! Just stop it! OK? Why?! Why?!” And looks at me with a kissy face. So I jump on board with this romance tone and get all deep voiced romance guy on her and look her straight in the eyes, “Look, I can’t help it, OK? You want me to stop, but I can’t. I can’t control myself around you, OK? You do this to me. Don’t ask me to stop cause I can’t! It’s your fault for being cute.”

And she lets out a soft moan, which I interpret as my cue to start making out. I grab her a little forcefully and push her back onto the couch, hovering my face just above hers and feel her breathe. She is trembling slightly and watching me waiting for what is going to happen next as she holds onto my arms and grips me tightly holding me close in place. And there, with my face only millimeters from hers we wait, and wait, until she can wait no more and grabs my face and starts making out. There is a fine line between being a dramatic character who takes the lead and being a clueless forceful date rapist with the difference being the ability to stop and take a step back at key moments, or know when to just completely walk away. I consider myself the former and showing this might be what is turning this girl on so much.

Much more active than the passive Japanese girls who are often slow, gentle, distant and cautious to create that shy appeal they are world famous for, she is the opposite and wraps her legs around me tightly, pulls my hair and rubs her hands all over my face aggressively. I keep the mood equal and squeeze her butt. We are getting very intimate very quickly on the couch and at some point she stops me to say, “Wait. It’s not too late for us to stop.” Which I interpret as, ‘I think I want to fuck you but you are going to need to say something more to get me there.”

“If you want us to stop, we can stop. But right now, everything that is happening just feels so good and so right, I don’t think we can…”

And she looks at me, and with a really serious and intense tone she says, “Let’s stop.”

Crud… And I’m thinking that this chick reaaaaaly isn’t worth fighting for. So, I get the fuck up and walk away, towards the kitchen, to get some water and as I grab a glass she is there looking back at me looking completely puzzled. I stand there taking small sips, reflecting over how many times I have been in this push pull situation only to end up involved with a women who gets increasingly more petty and self centred as the relationship continues. My ‘high maintenance’ indicators are flashing on and off and they are shouting at full volume, “Not worth it! Not worth it!”

Then a dude shows up at the door…? The glass sliding back door, that anyone can see into. Random. It’s a sweaty drab guy looking scruffy and out of shape with a tough guy tattoo and general shit style. She goes over and starts talking to him and he is saying that he just popped by to say hi on his way home from work. I’m thinking what the fuck is going on here, but play along with it and offer the guy some water. He declines, they wrap up their short little chit chat and he leaves. She closes the door, and is like, “That was my ex-boyfriend. I have no clue why he showed up just now. Why are you looking at me like that? Are you OK?” As I stood there casually drinking a glass of water, ignoring her suggestion that I think this is an issue I care about.

She comes running over and in a small, whiney, dying cat like scrawl she says, “Why did you leave me back there before?” and fuuuck writing this all out again is making me my head spin and get annoyed at the stupidity of this weird situation inside this geek Asian girl’s place so I’m going to glaze over most of it. I reply, “Because you said stop so I stopped cause I’m not a rapist.”

“But I didn’t want you to just walk away.” We re-continue making out in the kitchen. She tells me we should go ahead and do it and leads me to her room and is really excited and is jumping around and hugging me. I ask her to wait few seconds while I use the bathroom. After, I come into the room and she has changed her mind. We shouldn’t do it. I say OK. She starts making out with me again then decides we should. I go to get a condom. She decides that we shouldn’t do it after all. I get the condom out anyway and she goes along with it. As I’m about to put it in she says stop, we really shouldn’t do it. I say, “cool.” And start laughing my ass off. She asks why I’m laughing and then grabs me and pulls me into her. We fuck. It’s not glorious, nor is it boring. It’s just old fashioned ravishing sex that we both were in need of at that moment. A few more sessions and I leave.

Now as I said, I was in my home country, and coincidentally a Japanese nurse who I was hooking up with in Japan was visiting. She decided that she would even make a trip to my hometown which is a lovely place for a tourist to spend a few days. And lucky for me, or for her, I was going to be the tour guide. When I saw her again I was so happy to see her face. She was cute and lovely and she was always so cool yet, kind to me. I wanted so badly to sleep with her, and when the chance came up, we fucked like dynamite with the curtains to the hotel room wide open and the lights on. I’m sure someone had to have seen us. We enjoyed a little romantic vacation from reality and just chilled out taking the calmness in.

She was so easygoing and fun, yet down to earth. But like almost all women I’m with, the first time sleeping with her after a long time without, is never as good as the next. And small things that I want to change in her, like the kind of clothes she wears, make me feel that there is an overall difference in our values and compatibility. Like, we are in a shop of women’s clothes and I find a long flowing strapless summer dress that starts at around the cleavage and continues to the ankles. She tries it on and it is perfect for her. I tell her I will get it for her but she declines saying, “It’s too sexy. I can’t wear this type of dress.” How can anything be too sexy? Why would anyone want to be less sexy than they can possibly be? Wouldn’t you want to be as sexy as possible for your love interest? And this dress wasn’t like it was cheap looking or slutty. What the hell? I give up.

We enjoy our time none-the-less and as I promised her, on the final evening I escort her to a strip bar where she may enjoy the best of the nude white female figure. She loves it. I enjoy it too. I like hot white chicks. Especially naked ones that are really slim, tall and curvy. Later she tells me she is inspired to work out. I absolutely support this. And on the last day as I send her off at the airport I feel a slight sense of sadness, not only in her, but myself also. Alas, we wave goodbye and I walk out the door and say hello again to being a single guy, as always.  

The other chick, the annoying Asian one wants to meet me and I agree to take her to the beach for a swim. When we meet she is really, really excited to see me and can’t get her hands off me. She wants to make out way too much, too publicly and we get into the water. While immersed I play with her pussy and make her squeal. After we get out and go to the change rooms I try to get it on with her in there but she looks at me like I have just stabbed her pet kittens to death. I try again but she is really adamant. I give up. We walk along the beachfront, admiring the architecture and she tries to bring up arguments over my choices in what I like. More than garnish an intellectual debate, she annoys me. Then acts all dramatic by walking away, waiting for me to chase after her, which I don’t. Later at dinner in mid conversation she pushes my red button and cancels all future hope of us ever hanging out again.

I’m not sure why it is, but I think there is some kind of non-Japanese-but-greater-Asia-custom for the girls to act all bossy to their guys, or create mini-dramas and have mini-tantrums to make the guy be all like, ‘Sorry Chai-Lao Ngen baby! I didn’t mean it that way! I swear! Don’t be like that. Forgive me!” as he chases after the girl who is strutting away with her nose turned up sticking out her mini-titties as best she can while the guy is holding her purse for her and runs in ushered little tippy toe steps… Fucking gay.

Anyway, as I said we are at dinner and our mini-drama moment arises. It’s a nice Italian place that is semi outdoor allowing us to enjoy the ocean sounds and the cool sea breeze. The food is great. I have enjoyed most of my food but she can’t seem to eat any of hers for whatever reason. I think she had like two bites. She says she is trying to put on weight cause she can’t eat enough and I’m like, “You aren’t really helping yourself now. This is probably the best tasting food you will eat this week.” She declines the food. Whatever. I eat it. We chat about music and live shows we have been to and what music she likes and she tells me that she likes the drummer from Man-O-War. And I’m like, “whaaaa?” and just as my ‘WTF?’ face appears, she pushes the red-button. The uncoolest of the uncool things to do on a date. Her right hand raises up off the table and comes down with some amount of force in one smooth motion right smack bang onto my right cheek. SLAP! I hear the clap and I feel the stingy burning sensation and know for sure that as I sit there at this outdoor Italian gourmet establishment, the afterglow of enjoying a succulent meal is replaced entirely by the glow of a red hand mark on the side of my face, and the hair on the back of my neck stands up, not with anger but extreme embarrassment as I feel all the other patrons and staff turn to look, and hush their conversations to listen in. Did she really just slap me? Why? This is unexpected, intolerable, inexcusable and completely unforgivable.

She blurts out, “Why are you looking at me like that?! I said I like the drummer of Man-O-War, not the band! And so what if I did like the band!? Don’t you look at me like that just because I like something that isn’t cool enough for you!”

I feel my expression change, as if I had just remembered something highly amusing and I’m trying to hold back the laughter as to not appear crazy. But I know I am smirking and at the same time my eyes have narrowed in on her like a lion about to pounce. She blurts out again, “So now you are looking at me like that! Well who are you? And who do you think you are?”

And at this moment I know just how much of a vindictive asshole I am in the way I so suddenly know how to react to create the most damage. Instead of getting pissed, I very calmly and in a controlled and clear tone, get boss on this bitch and tell her how it is, “I don’t care about the band, Man-O-War. I have never heard their music and have absolutely no opinion on them. I only know their album covers, which appear to be old school metal. I was surprised that you know who they are let alone have the opinion of them and their drummer. And that is why I had that expression on my face. But for you to slap me, across the face, for some random assumption of me, in a classy restaurant, is not the way to behave as a lady. I think it is time for us to leave. I’m going to get the check.”

And I stand up and walk over to the counter where the young waitress is looking at me with wide eyes either from amusement at the weird little Asian girl restaurant slap, or from admiration of me laying it down real and keeping it cool. We take a walk to the car and she takes my hand which I reciprocate while making some light-hearted chit chat and as we get to her place she is asking me about when we will next meet. I give vague responses on uncertain times and kiss her on the lips to say goodbye without inviting myself inside. All as part of the plan I made the very moment I was slapped across the face, for looking at her funny. Because I know, that the most evil and hurtful thing I can do to her, is not get angry, not buy into drama and play along with it, not get involved in some scene and not get petty about the small things. The worst thing for this girl is to be taken on a romantic date by a tall gentleman who turns her on, enjoys adventurous sexual moments in semi-public locations, has a good conversation and a laugh, drives her around and pays for everything, exhibits all the roughness and excitement of a rebel, but all the admirable and controlled qualities of a gentlemen who you could trust raising children with, deals with her attitude in a calm way and kisses her goodbye like it was all forgotten. Only to never hear from him again, and never know why. That chance fate encounter on the street disappears into meaninglessness, and the memory she has is not of a bad angry argument, but only of a wonderful time, with a kind man that she won’t ever get back. That is how far ahead I planned the moment I got that slap. That cold, hard, calculating side of me, makes me very fucking scared of who I am right now.

Sure enough I got some more messages from her asking what is going on, when are we going to meet, am I angry, what happened. Much much later after I had returned to Japan I got a message from her saying that she went past the place where we first met on the roadside and thought about how strange fate is in how it works. What was the meaning of us ever meeting? What was the meaning of our fate? And why did everything we had between us, after all we had been through, disappear into nothing? I looked at this message thinking, “All we have been through? Two and half dates and an orchestrated attempt at a teenage drama? Grow the fuck up!” And I laughed at the ridiculousness of it. Later I tried to see how the nurse was doing in her hometown and sent her messages that gave me no reply. Went to check out her wall on facebook to see if everything was OK and found out that she had unfriended me without explanation and I laughed at the ridiculousness of that also.

An adult video star who is literally the fantasy woman of thousands of men falls through my fingers and I don’t care. I get slapped by a girl and my response is to destroy her heart and laugh at it. Probably one of the nicest and most caring women I have felt slightly close to in years removes me from her life without explanation and I find it amusing… what the fuck is wrong with me? What happened to my life? What happened to my soul? I used to be kind and care about people. I was idealistic and romantic. I used to dream of having a nice wife who I could talk to about anything and mess around with and make laugh. Now all I care about is the next body I lay before I move on to the next. I’m a vampire. A soulless, heartless, callous, pale and decrepit vampire that sucks the life out of everything he touches. But I’m aging unlike a vampire and can see my reflection and the person I see in the mirror is not someone who I’m sure I can respect anymore. What happened to my emotions, my pain and my sympathy? The genuine warmth and valour I had? I’m bitter and jaded from spending too much time seeing only the worst in other people and numbing myself from the pain that I must sense at some level somewhere deep inside.

Six months ago after this went down I felt it was time to get some perspective. I stopped chasing girls. I stopped getting laid. I went on a couple of friendly dates and never followed up on most of them with the view that I wouldn’t be the old me. I would act with the view of dating someone long term. The one girl who I did want to see again lead me on for a couple of dates and now she has disappeared. I think she was married anyway. Again this didn’t hurt me and send me into some kind of self doubt where I wonder what I did wrong like I would have 5-10 years ago. I’m past that now. And the result of all this is that I haven’t been laid in 6 months. That is like 2 years in dog years, and 10 years in playboy years. I wonder if and how it is changing my perspective. I think it is. Now when I look back at some of my actions while I have been in Japan I feel a deep sense of regret. I've wasted far too much time allowing myself to be used by superficial cold judgmental women who have made me become just like them.

Sometimes the loneliness is intolerable, but I tolerate it. And I day dream, of a better life, and a better time where all my being is stable and in check. Who I wish to be and who I really am inside is aligned perfectly. Honesty and warmth radiates from me. I am on a Yacht sailing away with my girl in her skimpy bikini and I’m not afraid to tell her I love her because I somehow know she won’t disappear on me suddenly for no reason. My brothers are there the sick one isn’t dying of cancer anymore. His body is able and his beautiful kids and wife are all having a good time. I tell him to stop eating cause he is a fat chump, even though he is nowhere near fat, and he tells me to eat some food and stop hiding behind the chopsticks cause I’m that thin. Tensions between other family members and my mother's bimbo tendencies and crazy dramatic attention seeking behavior is non-existent. Everyone is happy to just to be chill. The Yacht is our paradise. I cook food for everyone in my kitchen that isn’t some microscopic Japanese kitchen and can handle food for more than two people, and we enjoy it while the sun goes down. The TV is huge and the nephews are playing games on it, while the grown ups talk about business, politics, music, art and other grown up stuff. In the morning I wake to a heavy schedule of; eating food, drinking coffee, reading news, working out on my yacht gym, creating artistic abstract sculptures from wood or stone, playing guitar and learning piano, in between surfing reef breaks and hiking on hidden islands of the pacific. In this dream, I won’t be alone and will care about someone aside from myself. My girl is just as beautiful the next day just as much as the first and we make each other laugh and smile while inspiring each other to be better than the day before. It’s a beautiful world, the view is so clear and the water feels so good. The kids laughter sounds so happy and carefree, the sun is so warm but the breeze so cool and every sound I hear tastes like success and everything I see, smells like victory.

Real life Porn Japan

Japan makes a lot of porn. Most of it is low budget. The guy sets up a couple of cameras and lights, either in his apartment or a hotel room, and films it, later editing between first person point of view and standstill cameras. Minimal location booking costs, no support crew and very little post production is necessary. The low overheads and quick production time have allowed the Japanese porn industry to become prolific in the amount of titles they release each month. So much so that every time I look online at porn there are a ton of new videos released with a ton of new and different girls. Every month the DVD sellers shelves are restocked with a slew of new product, each DVD jacket sporting a different girl to the next. So many DVDs and so many new girls. Where do these girls come from? What is their story? Why are they doing porn? And considering the numbers of girls that are actually prolific in making videos, how many one off performers are there? How many Japanese girls go through a secret porn stage in their lives?

I had heard stories about guys who found out their girl was in porn. This one guy recounted the time he was doing a study abroad in his college days. He was with some Japanese guys and they had missed the last train so they all crowded into an internet café lounge seat and threw on some porn. As they watched, one of the guys said, “Hey Taro. That girl looks an awful lot like your girl. Wow! She is almost exactly the same. Hang on. Is that her? That’s her!” They looked back at Taro, with his face motionless, eyes glazed over, looking at the screen without reaction. Suddenly he stood up and walked out without saying a word. The guys not knowing what to do let him go. Had their friend just seen his own girlfriend having her clothes removed and a large vibrator placed on her nether regions? A little later they went outside to see if he was OK and found him in front of the convenience store with a freshly bought bottle of whisky in one hand, the bottle cap in the other and the bottle already one third empty. His face remained still and motionless until the alcohol set in and he broke down into tears. He spent the rest of the night getting increasingly drunk and inconsolable.

Another time something hit a little closer to home where one of my friends was banging one of the chicks in his salsa class. She was an office worker who had also done time in the Japanese National defence force. According to him she was a rough player in the bedroom who liked to either dominate or be dominated physically. For her sex was more than just sex and took on a different role where they could both explore much more than just physical attraction. Roles were taken and times she used this to tease and torment or submit in retreat. By chance not long after they ended their relationship he came across a random video of a girl who he thought looked a lot like her. He brought it over, we ordered pizza and a small handful of us sat around watching this chick, and various other girls get banged by various guys in various obscure situations. He could identify a few very key features of her beyond reasonable doubt and felt certain it was her. For us it was a bit of a laugh, but I’m not sure how my friend really felt. Understanding what it is like to see someone you slept with, sleep with other guys seems too surreal to comprehend. And she did it for money, not love or lust. What does that make her? What kind of judgments should we make of a person who does that? The part of the situation that left the strongest impression was that this was her only video performance. How many girls have I been with? What if one of them had been in a video without me knowing it? How would I feel about that and if it were a girl I was seriously dating would having something like in her past make me rethink my long term future with her? At the time it drove me a little suspicious and I quizzed the hell out of my then girlfriend. “Have you ever been a model? Have you ever done any sort of performing before a camera? Have you been in porn? Are you a pornstar? No? Have you been propositioned for such work? What did you say to them? What did they say to that? Interesting… I see.” And I continued until I got on her nerves and she told me to fuck off…

I could never understand what my friend went through inside his head that day when he found his girl appear in a cheap porn movie. I could never understand what it would be like to see a girl I like, or used to like, or at the very least, a girl I had slept with, appear in porn. That is until now. When a prolific porn star approached and seduced me.

The following memoir is a recollection longer than my usual posts.

It was a Sunday afternoon. I had eaten nothing all day, my stomach was empty and body lifeless and deficient of energy. I had a date at my place in the evening which I was looking forward to yet also needed to do some grocery shopping for. In the meantime I would leave my single cell apartment of urban Japan solitary confinement, go out, get lunch, buy some groceries and then get started with the food prep. As I looked in the mirror on the way out I remember very clearly thinking that I looked kinda different to normal. I felt unusually confident, and if you will, expelling some kind of aura. Which is different to how I usually think. Usually I think I need to shave, do something about the bags under my eyes, get a haircut or at the very least restyle my hair.

A short walk to the local station where I would travel to the next express stop to find a steak restaurant; I was contemplating sauces, in particular blue cheese sauce, or honey mustard. My serious and refined musings on this delicate gourmet topic were interrupted briefly by something of almost equal importance: a pair of female legs with knee high stockings; solid black with a fine red lace hem, walking past me on the train platform in rather close vicinity. My head turned to follow and I thought briefly about striking up a conversation with said pair of pins, but declined because I had no energy and really, I was pretty much content envisioning sweet chilli sauce basting a tender juicy medium rare steak while looking at hot legs.

The legs walk past again, this time with face directed at me. I gaze, unmoving. They stop a short distance away and turn back around. I’m still looking at the girl, a little too obviously, but I kinda don’t care, so I keep looking. Her face is cute with her eyes big, round and her nose more defined than a typical Japanese nose. I notice her eyes are fixed in my general direction and she moves closer. And a little closer still. At which point I start getting concerned. I’m not sure what is happening here. Then she walks up and stands about 2 inches from my face and asks in Japanese, “Do you understand Japanese?”

To which I reply, “Ummm aaahhh… Yeah… I guess… sorta…”

But really in my head I’m thinking something more along the lines of “HOLY DAMN SHIT GIRL! YOU ARE HOT AS FUCK! OF COURSE I SPEAK JAPANESE!!!! YEAAAAAAAAHHH!”

To which she says, “I don’t have any foreign friends. Please be my friend!”

Genuinely taken aback I fail to speak confidently. I say, “Who me? Ah.. I guess so. Um sure. I mean… if that’s ok with you… is it OK?”

At this moment in my head I’m thinking, “I WIN!” But it’s not guaranteed, so I try to be chill and play it cool. Just let the wheels roll in motion and don’t fuck anything up and certainly don’t let her self sabotage this since that is the higher likelihood. I start thinking seriously about logistics. What time is it now? What time is that other girl coming over tonight for the date? Will I have time to make this happen with this girl now? Should I stretch it out a bit. Hmmm…. I’m going to be leaving the country for about two months after next week so I better make this happen ASAP. Wait. Reel back. Girl is in front of you. Speak.

She looks at me, standing there with her wide eyed cute baby face and bouncy brown curls of hair and coat that extends down to just above her exposed white thighs. Eyes growing wider she lets out a laughing smile and exclaims, “Sugoi kakkoi!” A phrase that means she admires my appearance. Oddly, I get a little disheartened at hearing this because it almost always turns into the girl not seeing me as a person and more of a novelty or obscurity that they point and comment at, only to shortly move along and leave behind reminiscent of a trip past a pet shop window.

Despite my growing dubiousness of this girls intentions in approaching me I reply in my continuing fake shy tone, “Ahh.. really? Haha? Well, I don’t think I’m so good looking though.. Haha.. wow, I’m embarrassed now. Haha… I’m not used to cute girls saying that.”

And there I laid a sneaky hidden compliment that shows I am interested while simultaneously giving her a sense of exclusivity by appearing awkward, unassuming, dumb, blond and easy to please. The biggest lie I tell the world over and over again.

“I really admire foreigners. They are so cool. I want to be one too.” She is gushing in a contained way. The words themselves are passionate but don’t match the expression on her face which lacks any kind of emotion. Eyes fixed still, a faded smile and eyebrows perfectly in place. “Foreign people are so cool. Japanese are boring. In fact, I hate Japanese men...”

…..And the entire quiet train platform, that is full of mostly Japanese men turn to glare….

It’s probably a good thing I’m too self-centred to care about what anyone else thinks at that moment otherwise I’d be freaking out. None-the-less, I advise her to keep her voice down. She does not give a fuck. Absolutely no fucks were given by her as she continues at the same volume discussing her distaste for the local men and praising my eye color and other facial features.

The train arrives and as to not draw too much attention inside the carriage to the obviousness that we only met 20 seconds ago and are just getting to know each other thus inviting curious eyes of surrounding passengers which will probably make her uncomfortable, I quickly change topic and begin talking about how I really like steak and how I love the steak sauce at a particular restaurant. My distraction is successful and conversation continues as I gradually inquire her destination: same as mine, and casually invite her to join me for lunch. She has already eaten but I offer she have some cake and she finds herself asking 3-4 times if it is OK. I reassure her it is OK, 3-4 times. I need the company, if not I will die of loneliness.

At the restaurant she takes off her large tan color winter jacket to reveal absolutely huge tits that are disproportionately large in comparison to her tiny waist and stick thin legs. The waitress, a lady whose face I am familiar with, having come to this place a fair few times, drops our menus by and as she is taking our drink order I notice a rather odd atmosphere emanating from her. Her face is directed away from my date, with the imposing cleavage and cute face, and she speaks to her, quick and abruptly, while glancing at her sideways. My date asks the waitress in the same pained and forced tone that she has been addressing me with so far, “Would it be possible, by any chance to only have some tea to drink. Is that OK? Only tea?” As if that might be out of the question when it obviously isn’t. The waitress glances across at me with eyebrows furrowed in a “WTF?” expression then quickly says, “Of course, ‘just tea’ is fine.” My date checks again with the waitress and also me, if it is OK to only drink tea. I field the awkward question and watch on, thoroughly amused at this woman’s obvious distaste for bimbos.

Conversation is a little slow coming as I still have no energy having not eaten all day. The girl opposite me has her cigarette lit but is doing very little smoking. I watch her sit motionless as the smoke rises from the end, with the ash portion becoming longer and longer. Her eyes are glazed as she looks into the distance, still, with skin white and porcelain in tone, facial features balanced and symmetrical giving the impression of a doll. It’s a unique view and at the same time, a little disturbing. I sip my cola and watch, waiting for the ash from the tobacco, which has now grown half the length of the whole cigarette, to crash onto the table. She takes a final sharp drag and dabs it out carefully into the ashtray before that occurs and I’m a little let down.

Gradually I start to find out a few things about this girl that are shaping our interaction. First, she likes my appearance. She makes a strong case for this by repeating it many times and by also assuming that I am a high brand model, which makes me uncomfortable and suspicious. I think there is advice out there for women that says, “If you want to play a guy into your hands you have to first play dumb and second stroke his ego.” I find that blatant tactic to manipulate a little insulting to my intelligence and rather ineffective. Rather than stroke a guy’s ego, you should directly stroke his penis; much quicker and much more effective. To put her opinion of my looks into perspective, recently I put my photo on a dating site and the women there rated me out of 10, a little less than 6. So for most women, I’m not even passable with a few finding me barely passable. Which gives me great hope and confidence in my sense of humor and good cheer because it must be doing something to get me by! I also find out that she used to be an idol, which is a Japanese term for a photo model. Different to a fashion model who would do work which showcases clothing for a heavily female audience, an idol’s work revolves around pure vanilla titillation with girls doing photo and video shoots in revealing clothing to appease the mostly male audience. Probably similar to a sports model who appears in men’s magazines like FHM and such.

As she tells me this I exclaim, “Wow, that’s cool! All girls want to be models and you got to be one. Isn’t that great?” She doesn’t think so. Her face turns serious and distant and she begins to look down. “The lifestyle I had was very tiring. I got a lot of money and became rich quickly but I spent it all carelessly. The work was hard and long so I was never able to relax and always had to travel and go to places like Okinawa and work.”

Hearing that she was an idol made me want to ask 1000 questions but looking at her expression I see it’s getting her down so I try to turn the tone up. “Okinawa? That’s cool! I’ve never been there but I heard the beaches are beautiful and the sea is nice and warm.”

She continues in her gloomy tone, “That might be true, but I hardly ever got a chance to enjoy it. I was always working.” I notice now the forced voice that she was talking with before completely disappear. This would be what I consider her finally being real with me and speaking the truth. And while I am happy to hear this and becoming more engrossed in the candid view of life as an idol, I think about the outcome this topic has on the date itself. This is what I consider to be one example of a girl self sabotaging a date. They bring up a topic that is painful for them and they talk about it. The guy is kind enough to hear it out without interruption and in effect he assumes the role of a counsellor rather than a cool guy or a fun date guy. The girl leaves the date feeling down after having relived the hard memories, with the impression that the guy is just no fun, and without pinpointing any reasons they declare that the date, ‘just didn’t feel right’ and never agree to go on any further dates. Sure, its great to be honest with people and talking about real topics with someone is great and can lead to some real bonding and connections; I just don’t feel that we have seen each other in a brighter light yet and don’t want either of us to be left with a single impression. Not prepared to risk taking on the sexless role of the counsellor like I have so many times before, I take the safe option of ceasing my questions and making the topic lighter. “You went to Okinawa and you didn’t once get in the water?”

“Well, I did get in the water?”

“How was it? I bet it was warm.”

“Yeah. It was warm.”

“Did it feel good?”

“Yes!”

I smile and say in a loud voice, “Well that’s good!”

She giggles. Sabotage averted.

Toward the end of the lunch I suggest that we hang out again and she agrees. I tell her that I would be sad if I never saw her again and want her to kiss me goodbye, on my cheek. A cheek kiss will not suffice and she would rather the mouth, so we make out in the restaurant at lunch time, and I feel this pretty girl’s lifeless limp cold lips on mine and I somehow feel cheaper as a result.

On my way home I grab the food needed for my dinner date that night and prepare it hoping that it will lead to me getting lucky with a different girl who I had met a week or two earlier. Heading back to the station at 6pm I coincidentally notice the ‘idol’ who I had met just earlier for lunch leaving the train station, and I avoid her in case the evening’s date appears and we all have one big weird rendezvous. Very surreal as just as she has walks by without noticing me, the evening date does appear and I quickly usher her in a different direction and we take an obscured path back to my house. Fuck that was close. It's a small world.

Things seem to go well with this girl and I guess she likes me because we end up spending most of the date making out. Her lips are soft and warm and when she touches my face it feels real. Eventually we end up naked and fucking on my futon. While I am inside her after some time everything suddenly feels so good. It is amazing for both of us and just as I hit my climax I get the feeling that it feels suspiciously too good and the reason for that is concerning. After I cum inside her I pull out to find a broken condom… And I panic. Not the kind of post coital experience you want if you are a girl looking up to see a guy swearing in a foreign language… After talking things over we both calm down and find that she is not in the fertile phase of her cycle, and we fuck again. During a date with her the following weekend I find out that we are pregnancy free.

The following day I arrange to meet the idol at a café in our neighbourhood. When we meet I find her slightly hungover, in a single white lacey one piece dress. She asks what we are doing and I suggest a walk, with the subtle plan to direct us en route via a river ending up past the park and conveniently at my place. She cuts through my plan in one crude slash saying, “Where are we walking? I want to go to your house. Let’s go there.” And she grabs and hugs my arm. I am down with this girl and more than anything, I am down with her thinking. We chat as we head to my place.

Inside, conversation changes topic to that of a more adult tone. She asks about my preference for Japanese girls, do I like them and have I ever slept with one before? I affirm simply that my last girlfriend was Japanese and during the time I have been here I dated mostly Japanese girls with a only a couple foreign since I hardly get the chance to meet them here, thinking that should be enough detail to keep things moving smoothly. She wants to know more, about what my type is. I keep the description vague, until she inquires into what porn I watch, Japanese or foreign… And light bulbs start flashing on and off inside my head. Getting a little curious at the direction and intent of where this is going I answer truthfully, that I watch both porn made locally in Japan and abroad. She raises the topic of which girls of the Adult Video (AV) genre I prefer, and I stumble. I want to both appear open minded enough to discuss this topic in as much detail that she sees she needs to, but not a sleeze who watches way too much porn. It’s a precarious balance that I negotiate by saying that I don’t really know many names but if I saw a face I would remember it. She asks me if I know Aoi Sora, a mega star that has a very approachable cute girl next door appeal. I tell her that I do, but I’m not such a fan, totally true. She on the other hand is a gushing fan. She loves Sora and even bought her full color bio book and was lucky enough to meet her in the flesh and have it signed at an adult industry exhibition. I playfully tease her for this calling her an AV geek. She loves all the big porn names but was especially enamoured with Aoi as she was able to make her showbiz career extend further than porn and moved into TV and music. Actually, I have one of her musical videos linked on this blog. The idol in front of me quizzes me more on which girls I know and like and she starts getting excited when I know who they are. Two things start becoming very apparent to me: this girl really knows a lot about porn and obviously has something she wants to say to me, the other being that we both watch way too much porn.

Eventually we start making out and she stops me to ask about my feelings for her. I tell her that she is really unique and I want to get to know her more, also, she is really cute and…actually, I think I like her. She is happy, and we kiss some more but stops to ask me if I will accept her, even though she is an idol. I tell her that if she can accept me, a foreigner, then I can accept her. And there we lay, two dishonest lying sluts, deluding to ourselves that we are different to who we really are. More special and unique, more beautiful, more lovely, more deserving of attention and much more clean, but most of all, that we actually have deeper feelings, that we are whole and profound in emotion, and the thing that unites us is a universal pull of love and fate, and despite our obscurities, we accept each other.

She asks if it is OK for her to take off her dress. I’m generally easy going and don’t vocally oppose the requests of others, this is no exception. She takes off her dress and I admire her grey knee high socks and pink dotted white underwear that covers her soft white skin and again, her disproportionately massive white breasts. I pull her body close to me in a quick motion, not bothering to be gentle yet completely contradicting that by softly placing my hand on her cheek while I make out with her, then running it down her neck, using my index finger to draw a line from the center of her collar bone down through the gap between the center of her breasts and to her naval. Opening my hand I press my palm on her stomach and move it to her waist, squeezing it lightly and continuing my journey to her smooth ass, which I grab firmly to pull in closer still, placing her on my crotch, in one quick movement. Her pussy is now in indirect contact with my cock and although I still have not touched her tits I will surely get there. “May I take my bra off?” She asks in her familiar pleading tone, very reminiscent of something I would see in a Japanese porn. They finally make an appearance, those amazing tits, and I am happy to have them push up against my chest as we make out in an upright sitting position with her sitting atop of me, her pussy still grinding on my hardening cock. Keen to keep things moving forward she asks again, if it is OK for her to suck my dick...totally porn... And she pushes me down and pulls off my jeans and underwear, doing things with her mouth that I honestly haven’t felt before. After some time she takes the next step for me and asks if she can ride my cock. We fuck, and I guess either the hotness of her this girl, the situation being so graphic, or how good the preceding headjob was, I have a very short fuse to play with, and explode in my condom, way too early for her to have enjoyed any of it much.

We hold each other and she seems unconcerned about my shit effort, claiming that she has not had sex for as much as two years. Which seems unlikely. Absurdly unlikely and mostly just blatant bullshit. I roll with the charade as I have so far and enquire deeper into her work as an idol. “You know before we were talking about AV… I was wondering, that maybe... you know how you said you were an idol… Was it just an idol? Or is it possible you were also in AV?”

She is looking away, and silent. Still holding her and playing with her hair I give her a quick hug and say, “It’s OK, you can tell me anything.”

She takes her time to respond and slowly says, “Will you still like me if I say yes?”

“Sure I will”

“Then yes, I was in AV.”

I keep holding her and I secretly get really excited cause I want to ask her tons of questions about the biz. She tells me some inside stuff. The studio she worked for was the same as Aoi’s. They gave her a phone to use and an apartment to live in with all the expenses paid for. She started AV at the same time she was in college and eventually stopped going and dropped out completely as her life had been taken over by it. They gave her a porn name, which was basically a random Japanese name. I ask her the Kanji for it and she helps me enter it into my computer’s search engine. I press search but she says I can’t look at anything other than the Wikipedia article about her. She goes on to tell me that at the beginning the work was OK but it just got so tiring with having to do scenes with more and more guys and they would cum inside her and that was hard to deal with emotionally. One day after surviving about a year in the business she just left the apartment and never came back. The studio tried to contact her but eventually gave up. She told her parents everything and they enforced a strict curfew on her. She was never allowed to leave the house for more than a short time and never at night. Through all this I could feel that she was finally speaking to me without the forced pretensions she was speaking with before, but to me there was still something about her that was way off balance. Physically she was an adult, mentally she was like a child, but emotionally, she seemed more like a battery powered toy doll with a pre-recorded voice. And it was creepy.

Undeterred, I made love to her again and she asked if she could call me her boyfriend and I call her my girlfriend. I thought that it would suit us well and we would make a fine couple; a burned out pornstar and a weary jaded foreign playboy. She left me with a smile and a wave and I went back to the computer screen to look at her finest work. And there it was, with no chance of uncertainty, the girl who was now my girlfriend coughing, spluttering and almost in tears as a number of random men jizz their loads on her face… I felt uncomfortable and really, really sorry for her.

I would have liked to have continued seeing her nonetheless, but as I said earlier I was to leave the country for an extended period. She continued to reply to me slowly for almost 6 days. But I knew anyway that girls like that don’t last long without constant attention. There really was no reason for her to be waiting around for me when she had no real certainty I would be back, and there are plenty of other guys out there. So like many girls had done to me before, and in turn me to them, she simply told herself that it was over and didn’t bother replying to me. I felt little sense of loss for my “girlfriend”, because for me, if I ever want to experience being with her again, I can simply buy or rent her DVD and get her very own personal masturbation device that is modelled on the shape of her pussy and bask in the glory of Japan’s fucked up adult culture.

Date with chick from the net

What she looks like in the photo:

What she looks like in real life:

 

Moral of the story:

 

FUCK YOU INTERNET

Nice timing with the period there

I get a mail out of the blue from a chick I used to hook up with when I lived in Kansai.

Chick: Hi Ransom, I’ll be in Tokyo next Thursday night to Saturday. Are you free to meet?

Me: Sure! I’ll be working on Friday, but not on Saturday. Don’t worry about getting a hotel. You can stay at my place.

Chick: Really? You are so kind. Thanks. I’m looking forward to seeing you!

Me: Me too!

She arrives with suitcase in hand. I greet with a hug and show her to my place I’m quite happy to see this chick and want to know what has been happening with her since we last hungout..

Me: Wow, it’s been a while hasn’t it? How have you been anyway?

Chick: OK. 

Me: Cool, so like, what have you been doing and stuff? 

Chick: Nothing special.
Me: OK. So how’s work going?
Chick: OK.
Me: Alright, alright. That’s, cool. So… how about everything else?
Chick: Nothing special.

It seems that although this chick’s epic tits might still be bodacious, her ability to converse in her native language at an adult level have not developed much since our last encounter. Sadly so…

Me: Anyway, let’s get some dinner. Are you in the mood for anything special?

Her: Nothing special.

Me: I thought so. OK, we’ll go to a generic restaurant near my apartment. By the way, what time is your conference tomorrow? I have to get up early to go to work, but you might need to leave before me, right?

Her: What? There is no conference?

Me: Well, your work or whatever it is you are in Tokyo for. What time is that?

Her: I don’t have work.

Me: What? I thought that was why you were here? Isn’t it? Why are you here?

Her: For travel.

It seems that the purpose of this girl’s visit is to see me, but she in no way communicated that. “I’ll be in Tokyo on Thursday.” To me means “I’m going to Tokyo for reasons other than you but if our schedules meet then let’s hangout.” OK, this girl is spending a lot of money and travelling a long distance just to hang out with me after I finish work and for a morning and afternoon on my day off. That’s a lot of commitment... What does she think the status of this relationship is? Probably more than what I think it is... And that is making me a little uncomfortable. But it’s too late now, so I guess it can’t be helped. I will take her to this restaurant, drink beers and monologue at her since she has nothing to say to me. Then we will go to my place and fuck. Sounds like a good plan for a Thursday night.

We get to the restaurant and as planned, I drink beer and conversation is split between myself giving a one sided monologue, and myself asking interview type questions to which she gives basic unexpanded responses. Some lulls in conversation are met with awkward silence, which prompt her to say, “Say something!” And my chances to relax after a long day of work are knocked aside to play the entertainer and babysitter for this simple pair of tits.

Later at my place we start to enjoy each others company in a way that which we can express the enjoyment for each other’s company most: by getting physically intimate. Its going great, her clothes are off and her lush cleavage is making an entrance over her black and pink lace patterned lingerie, I’m about to remove it to show the smooth white skin and full pink nipples underneath, when she drops the bomb.

“I’m on my period.”

Me: Well, we can still…

Her (interrupting): Absolutely not, no way, completely out of the question, don’t even ask about it. I can’t believe you are going there. It’s not going to happen. Absolutely, definitely with no chance of uncertainty, there is no way, IN HELL we are having sex.

No blow jobs or hand jobs were given. The rest of her stay is spent with me chaperoning her around. She does little speaking but at times expresses her consent with smiles and short high pitched vocal emissions in unison with nods of approval. She expresses her disagreement with silence, pursed lips, eyes narrowed and eye contact evasion. My job during her stay is to make plans, watch her reaction, interpret based on implicit signals rather than explicit communication, then act accordingly. Reassess when I misinterpret, not get pissed off and continue to make jovial conversation, all while I pay her travel, food and attraction admission expenses. Finally when I see her off to the station I begin to get excited. Her not so much.

She stands there looking down, holding a black and pink handkerchief between both hands, twisting it back and forth and wringing it out thoroughly with unspent nervous anticipation. The station is busy with people moving in every direction around us. They have people to meet, places to go, missions to accomplish, all of seemingly utter importance. I look at the flower wilting in front of me, motionless against the backdrop of a Tokyo station chaotic human swarm and hope to get a quick and painless couple of jovial parting words in before she rushes off. But it is not to be so.

I say my thing, thanks for coming, sad to see you go, all the best and all the rest, but she doesn’t look up. Her handkerchief looks like it is in real pain now.

“So when will I see you again?” She quizzes me, still looking down. I’m shocked. Shocked I say. This is the first time she has spoken without prompting and furthermore it involves curiosity in me. Is this actually happening? I thought she only cared about herself.

“Well, I don’t know. The next time I go to Kansai, or you come up here.” And I brush off the question that is obviously sitting deeper inside. It fails to satisfy, and she continues to stand there, silently, looking down, unmoving. Hoping I will read her feelings, understand her emotions and give an appropriate response, as I have been doing since she got here. The correct response in this situation being, “I love you and I don’t want you to go. Stay here with me.” A romantic and dramatic touch to end things on a deep note, to which she would reply, “But I can’t, I have work tomorrow.” Thus making it more dramatic, I would have to chase the fair damzel, and I would counter that with, “Who cares. Forget about your job. You don’t like it anyway. I want you to quit and just stay here with me.”  Some real movie like romance shit. But since its reality she would then argue back saying that is unreasonable until we finally decide that she has to go back and I will come and visit her soon. That would be the appropriate romantic response to give a girl who is at the age where she feels she really needs to settle down and get married cause all her friends and younger sister already have and they, and the rest of her family feel its time to get a move on with things. It must really be a lot of pressure to deal with. I'm sure it would be nice if someone else could alleviate that for her...

I’m really not down with that. Her presence during this trip has been a total drain. I mean, I really feel bad that I have to be the one to be hurting her feelings, but there are things we all need to go through to become adults. Having hard times and overcoming them gives us strength we can carry with us everywhere we go in the future. Having the strength to say what you really feel should be no ones responsibility but your own. If she has something to say, or something to ask, it needs to happen now. Better than now, it needs to happen before she took the trip. She can't do that so I can't take her seriously as a respected equal.

Instead of standing there looking at her while tears well up I decide to pull her in close for a final hug, softy say into her ear, “We will meet again.” And then turn and leave. And that’s enough dramatic train station goodbyes for me.

Her reasoning before the trip:

If I go up there while I’m on my period it will give me a reason not to have sex with him. Men only care about sex. If he REALLY loves me he will accept it and want to be with me anyway. After all, if there is to be a future with us it can’t be based on sex alone. We need to be happy with each other without it. Then I will be able to see his true feelings.

My thinking before her trip: 

I wonder what kind of conference she is going to? Its cool that she gets to travel with her job and meet guys for sleepovers. I wish my job let me do that. I hope she has something to say. She is usually quiet and a lot of effort to keep happy. But dem tits are great so it is almost worth it. Almost, but not completely.

Her thinking after the trip:

Why didn’t he say his true feelings for me? Why can’t he just say what he is thinking? Why don’t men ever say what they are thinking? Why has he done this to me? How can he leave me going back to Kansai without him and why doesn’t he tell me about our future?

My thinking after her trip:

Shit! She came just to see me. That was heavy and the good bye was awkward. God, what a drain that was. Had to keep her occupied the whole time I wasn’t at work. Why the hell does she never speak? She needs to get over that shit. Oh well, at least it’s over now. Hmmm… I’m hungry. Wouldn’t mind having steak for dinner. Fuck yeah. I’m gonna have some steak and beer. And tomorrow I’m off too! Woop! Video games and snacks in my underwear all day. Not even gonna have a shower. FUCK YEAH WIN!

It doesn't hurt to be a playboy

She squeezed her fingers deeper into my shoulders and gazed up at me gasping for breath. Letting the words slowly come out of her mouth in between sharp inhales, "I'm gonna come". I looked down into her dilated pupils from my position on top. Ema was young and beautiful with her dark caramel skin and long flowing brown hair. She had her eyes fixed onto mine. Continuing to thrust deeper into her I felt her whole body constrict around me. Back arching from the mattress, she screamed while her legs wrapped tighter around my torso pulling me further in. She shook all over in a wave of shivers and spasms with her voice following in a constant succession of screams growing fainter and weaker slowly as her glazed contact-lens-colored green eyes continued gazing and unblinking into mine.

The fingers in my upper arms released their grip, and turned into open palms hitting my chest. "Why!? Why! Why?" She shouted, gasping for breath. Glaring at me sharply then slowly changing her tone into a pleading question.

"Why? Why does it feel so good with you? What are you doing to me? I don't understand it..."
It looks like she is done and I'm not going to be cumming this time. She continues her gaze into me. Still catching up her breath.

"I love you."

I heard her words. I was sure she really felt something in me in that moment, something much deeper, stronger and more real than I was able to feel for her at that time. I heard her words, and it's harsh to say, but I never felt anything in return.


*****************************************

On a different day I gave a shirt to a different girl to wear for sleeping in. Most girls that slept over preferred my cheap T-shirt with the print of mickey mouse on the front. She was no exception, this woman whose name escapes me now, with her petite body, shapely ass and smooth brown skin. Full lips, high cheekbones and eyes so wide and tinted I was sure the color was fake. We got under the covers of the futon and she faced away from me while I pulled her in close from behind, her smooth ass rubbing into my crotch while my arms wrapped her in tight and close. I ran my fingers up her neck and into her short red shaved hair.  As an aspiring club DJ on the weekends and an office temp staff during the week, her style was funky. Circle lens colored contacts, and few small  obligatory tattoos to prove to herself she is a rebel of sorts. When I sat down beside her for the first time earlier that night at the wedding party which we were both guests, I hadn't expected the evening to turn this way.

Two bodies under one futon cover made things hotter than just one sleeping alone. The t-shirts became heavy prompting me to remove mine and in turn hers.  We both preferred how much better it felt sleeping with skin touching anyway. However the touching skin became hot and sweaty in places we had to move a bit. Then the sheets uncovered some of her leg so I had to throw the covers over, tucking her in, holding her close and feeling her breathe. Her smooth skin was much more enjoyable for me to touch than to just sleep like that. And even though we had already fucked, I was still restless with sexual tension. I kissed her shoulders and neck from behind, moving closer and closer up to the base of her hairline. I squeezed her in closer and bit her ear softly. I started making out with it, using my lips to kiss and my voice to hum deeper in. She started getting loud letting her voice moan out while wiggling her smooth round ass deeper into my crotch until I could feel how wet she was as she grinded along the shaft of my cock. She hit her limit of self control and turned to face me and impaled herself, pulling me inside her as deep as possible. We fucked until we slept.

Her alarm woke us very early in the AM. She had to go to her apartment to get ready for her day at the office. I walked her halfway to the station in a sleepy haze and hugged her goodbye, went back, crashed and pretty much forgot that it happened. I never called. She never called. We just went on our own way, blissfully unaware of what the other was doing. It was only a couple of weeks later something completely unexpected popped up on my facebook feed. Had I actually connected her to my facebook profile? I don't remember doing that. Either way, she posted some very big news, the kind that draws a lot of attention and makes the entry pop up on everyone's feed. 

"Everyone, I will soon become a wife. I'm getting married!"

I looked at it and waited for a moment, letting it sink in. My first thought being,  "That's that chick. I totally forgot I slept with that chick." Followed by, "Wow! She's getting married."

I wanted to feel shocked or surprised at the fact that it seemed like it was only moments ago I was the one there fucking her goodnight and now she was taking a lifelong step into cohabitation with another man, but I just felt nothing. She must have acted really quickly in finding a husband after sleeping with me, or she just cheated on a guy that was already there... a quick fling before entering married life... Either way does not surprise me. Should I feel cool that she risked a strong relationship just for me, a guy whom she met only hours before sleeping with? Or should I feel shit that she slept with me then moved on quickly to find someone 'better'? Or should I feel both cool and shit at the same time? I didn't know what to feel, so instead I felt nothing.

*****************************************

I was on holiday in Thailand saying goodbye to the youthful innocence of my 20's and graduating into my 30's in the only fashion I knew of: to have as much sex as I possibly could with as many women as possible. I ended up sleeping with 10 women in one alcohol fueled sex frenzy of a week. I wish I could remember more of it, at least one girl's name who I slept with, but why get tied down with the details, right? While there but before this intense week began, I found myself living the kind of experience that only a guy like me could do with such a high level of class, wit and panache: being denied sex by an unattractive 3rd world street hooker.

I was in a club doing my best to mack on a short girl with a spunky attitude and pink baseball cap. Tight blue denim short shorts, a white singlet with her black bra revealing itself from underneath. She told me to fuck off and get the fuck away from her, go back to my friends and leave her the fuck alone. Her friends looked at me and scowled. They hated me. Everyone did. Such hurtful words for someone they hardly knew. I played along with their game of hard to get, and took their insults in my stride until we were getting along well, dancing up close and drinking a drink from the same glass. As closing time for the club crept in she offered me a ride to a nearby club on her scooter. I gladly obliged.

Stepping outside to the cool late night/ early morning air I suddenly came to my question my actions. Was getting on scooter with a drunk girl a good idea? Surely a ride to a nearby club couldn't be too bad, nonetheless I told her that I would pay for a taxi. She refused and walked up to the most obnoxious overdone fluffy pink scooter that I have ever seen. She put her keys in the ignition and immediately loud music started blaring out the huge sound system and neon lights flashed on and lit up the underside of the vehicle. "Ridiculous!" I exclaimed to myself under my breath, and without any further hesitation I realized there was no way in hell I could skip on the chance to ride the bitch seat of such a flaming vehicle. I jumped onto her pimptress mobile behind her and pulled in close (while sneakily grabbing a handful of her ass which made her giggle).

We got to the next club and the rest of the crew I was rolling with was already there with drinks a plenty. We proceeded to get further and further crunk-as-fuck until my pink hat girl and I decided it was time to depart. As we got to her scooter she asked, "Where we go?"
Of course I replied, "My hotel."
To which she said, "OK, 3000 baht"
Three thousand whaaaaaaat now? Damn... the old 'hooker-in-disguise' trick. You really never can know here in Thailand. And here she was not long ago telling me to fuck off and go fuck myself. Not a very good business plan for a working lady.

"Not gonna happen." I replied.
"OK. 2000, we go back to my place." She quickly negotiates.
"What the fuck? I thought you were real. This ain't cool. Let's just go 'chill'. Don't worry about any money or anything." I'm trying to talk my way out of this shit.
"My place. 2000." She's for real about business. Sex and money are such an unsexy combination when it is your money to which you must say goodbye. Ah.. fuck it.. I can afford this without much effort. 
"My hotel, 1000." I begin to negotiate.
"No. My place. 1500." She snaps back. She wants to stay close to her home and wants me to pay for that. Could be interesting...
"OK. Your place. 1500." I agree.
"My place 2000." She ups the price out of nowhere.
"What? My hotel 500!" I lower the price obnoxiously and go random on her cause the only way to fight random is with random.
"No. My place 2500." The price is going up..... I had agreed to her previous conditions to sleep with her at her place for the price she offered and now she is blatantly changing it out of my range. Is this is her tactic to get more money or does she just want me to fuck off? I'm not down with this... and I am out.

I'm kinda tired anyway and I'm not the biggest fan of bullshit. I turn and hit the road without saying goodbye cause I'm genuinely done with the evening. Even if I did get her into bed I'd probably pump twice then pass out from exhaustion without even cumming. I've had more to drink than I should have and had a long day, plus the lack of romance kinda kills the mood of the moment. As I scurry away I manage to find an alley that might lead me towards a main road where I can find a taxi. I head down the dark strip. High fences on the left, a brick wall on the right. Residences behind them with no street lights to guide me down the dark broken path. A loud scream follows me down, like the sound of a Thai chick trying to pronounce my name with her own erratic interpretation. Then I hear an engine. Then I see a hovering pink beast with a luminescent glow coming from beneath. I start bolting the fuck outtathere. How the hell can that bitch be riding down this alley. She can hardly fit. Engine sounds get closer and closer to the point where she is about to run my shit into the ground. The bitch is drunk as fuck and has absolutely no judgment of speed and depth perception so I'm sure that I'm gonna get my legs crunched. Somehow she stops microseconds before crushing me under her pink fluffy Zorbatron.

"Get on. We go my place. No sex. OK?"
"No sex? But I like you." Hahahaa I'm so sweet.
"Get on. No sex. Just sleep. We go."
Spoken like a boss.

We go back to her place and I'm thinking that even though she says no sex, well... I've heard that many times. She'll be down.

We get to her place and go through a fence and into an apartment building complex. Through a glass door and intercom system and down a brick corridor. Her apartment is a pink fluffy bomb crash site. And fuck it is hot and stuffy in there. The lights flicker on to a halogenic brightness that is arguing with the hangover headache that is suddenly appearing to me, and I notice for the first time since I met this girl: her face in full light. She is... leaving a lot to be desired. Looks about a hundred years old and has some gross acne looking cheeks. OK I think I will take her up on the offer of no sex. That was until she strips down and gets onto her bed and ushers me in. I try to go for it but she denies me completely and passes out. Complete ugly hooker denial.

I'm almost asleep on the pink bedspread next to this Thai lady of the night with horrible skin and messed up teeth who is happily snoring away until a sudden flash of panic awakens me. What the hell am I doing? I'm about to fall asleep in some random hooker's apartment. This is the kind of shit that urban myths are made of. Next thing I know I'll wake up in a bathtub full of ice with my kidneys missing. I'll be like, "What the fuck? Where am I? Where are my fucking kidneys?" Then I'll be like, "gurgle, spit, splatter. FUCKEN DEAD AS FUCK CUNT!"

FUCK THAT! What the hell was I thinking. No one even knows where I am. They have no way of getting in contact with me and me them. Shit. This is ridiculous! People will find my iced kidney free body and say, "Well what was he thinking going to a random hooker's house? And of all the places, Thailand? Everyone knows what Thailand is like what with all the shady black market organ dealings... He brought this on himself. It's his own fault really. He was basically asking for a kidney sectomy when he got on the back of that hot pink fluoro Zorbatron. He's an Idiot!"

I get up from the pink mess. Real quiet. Get my shirt. Real quiet. Look at the chick, she is snoring. All good. Get my shoes. Real quiet. Bump into the side table and make a real loud crash. Fucken freeze! The chick stopped snoring. Shit!..... And she snores again. Safe! Just like some weird comedy movie. Go the door. Real quiet. Unlock the latch. Turn the handle. Open the door. Aaaaand... I'm out! Sweet! Carefully cruise down the brick corridor. Open the glass door. Go across the courtyard...... aaaaaand I meet a 10 foot high steel gate with barbed wire running across the top. No signs of any exit sensor aside from the number pad lock. Well this is fucked.

I search around frantically. Surely there is another way out. People who are inside should be able to get out without a code. This is not a jail, it's a residence. Where is the way out! Fucken fuck! This is all part of the kidney removal process. This whole residency is not what it seems. Its a compound for hooker sluts to lure kidneys in and trap them! Help me out! No one will see me. Its five AM in the morning and no one will walk by to see me. Even if they did they wouldn't help. They'd be like, "It's his own fault for mixing with that type of crowd. These foreign guys come to our country thinking they are such a big hit with our ladies. When will they realize, they are OUR ladies! Try to take our ladies, WE TAKE YOUR KIDNEYS!"

MY FUCKEN KIDNEEEEEEEEEYS!!!! My fucken kidneys fuck. What will my family say when they find out about their kidneyless boy Ransom found dead in a Thai ghetto bathtub? My mother will blame herself and become a seedy reclusive alcoholic. What will my friends say? "Thats fuckt. But who would want his shit kidneys anyway with all that cheap booze he always drinks I'm sure they were loaded with stones anyway..."

Stuck in this prison of doom with no way out. Where do I go? What do I do? I need to chill and calm down. I've just had a lot to drink. Things aren't bad. I will live to tell this tale. I just need to figure out what my options are. I can't go back to the girl. I don't even hardly remember what apartment his hers let alone her name. If I did go back she would be pissed that I tried to skip out of the place. And she probably wants some kind of hooker money for lying on the bed next to her. Slutface. OK, what are my other options. Scale the fence. Cut my balls on the wire, fall and break my leg. No thanks. What else.... Nothing. OK. Measuring up all my options... It looks like I'm going to have to crawl back to zitty face slut bitch and ask her to kindly tell me the keypad code to open the gate, and hope she doesn't stab my lower back and go Indiana Jones and the temple of doom on my shit and remove organs from my body while I'm fully conscious.

I go back and open the still unlocked door. Sneak in and rouse the chick. "Hey, I'm gonna go. Can you help me open the gate?"

She turns over, "WHAT?"

I use a small and sweet voice, "Can you just tell me the code for the gate? I'm gonna go."

"HUH!!!" This chick really needs a volume knob. Even in her half asleep daze she is still completely obnoxious.

"Whats the gate code?"
"YOU LEAVIIIN?"
"Yes. I'm going now.... Gate code. OK?"
"HUUUUUH?! GATE CODE?! WHERE YOU GO DARLIIIIIN?!"
Fuck this bitch. Just fuck it. Really. Absolute nightmare of an evening. God dammit just tell me the code so I can bail on this horrible horrible situation, press 'ctr+alt+delete' on my brain and reset with no memory of the events that went down. 

Eventually I get the code and hit the road, get back to my sweet and safe hotel where I crash the hell out.

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Three separate girls and three separate stories. Giving a model the best sex of her life; having a one night stand turn around and get hitched moments later; having a third world hooker deny me completely. Happenings like this should make me reel back in awe. They should make a person feel some kind of emotion, be it happiness, shock, anger, love or even hate. At all the crucial points where I should feel something, I felt none of these things. The closest thing I felt to emotion was a sense of desperation when I was drunk and confused in Thailand.

You see, if you are a playboy, a true seasoned playboy, you don't feel anything when a woman rejects you. It happens so often you lose any sense of pride or shame. You don't feel anything when a girl says that she loves you, even if she has beauty, money status and power. You have heard those words too many times before and watched them fall into a hollow cave of meaninglessness when she disappears without explanation, failing to ever say that she is moving on and why, all the while ignoring all communication with you.

You can not say that you really are a playboy until you are maliciously rejected by a hooker and honestly felt nothing. By the same token you can not say that you really are a playboy until you have heard the words, "I love you" from a gorgeous fashion model and still felt nothing.

Like the title of this post suggests; it doesn't hurt to be a playboy. However so, it doesn't feel particularly good either. The callous works both ways.