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.

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

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.