Happy Friday, reader. It’s Bangkok Seven, back with another Frowback blog from my final days in the US. There are only 3 more of these left, and at the time I originally posted this, way back in ’07, I was reeling from the loss of my ex, who traded me in for a younger, fitter dude, and so I did what I do best–I found a quick rebound girl and the combination of her naked body and bottle after bottle of wine provided a temporary reprieve from the rejection of my last Western girlfriend. At the time it was a nightmare, but that nightmare eventually prompted me to go overseas–a journey that inevitably led me to Paradise on Earth, aka Thailand…
“Sunday, April 15, 2007 Current mood: content
I’ll let you get the best of me
The weekend is a blur, save for a chance meeting on a Malibu beach and approximately 3 hours in the middle of Saturday, when a certain lovely held my attention and my manhood in my room while the Police sang out of my stereo. You were light as a cloud, and I threw you onto the bed one-handed, the other hand busy with. . . .let’s not say, and your lips the taste of caramel, your tongue like rose petals.
I’m on something. Wine, as usual. This time it’s a Spanish red. It’s sweet like sausage, and thin like pasta sauce. Some oak, but mostly just alcohol and bitter-sweet chocolate. And violets. The room is spinning.
Much the way it spun when my lips kissed your stomach. My hand over your neck and down your chest had me more drunk than the wine, my lips along your collar bone I thought I was in heaven you arched your spine when my hand ran up your leg and turned your kiss to me I thought you surrendered but your strong religious guilt bore down like a storm I caressed your thigh and thought I heard you gasp and your lips like honey dripped something better than the wine. The sound of your soft cries into the pillow mixed with Sting as he sang his sad soliloquy.
Your breasts took my breath away. Your back was like a sonnet, I almost wept. I’m trying to remember the scent of your skin, and your eyes half-closed as my mouth tasted your mouth. Pulling your hair back and down on your neck like a vampire I thought I could hear your heart skip a beat. You said I belonged to you like staking a claim but those hands are too small and your look too demure the flash of my camera capturing the line of your shoulder spilled down to a hipbone connected to a song an echo in my ears “The bed’s too big without you” and you’re rolled under me again.
You won’t look me in the eye but I still see what you hide, like the ghost of a tune behind a curtain in your heart it overtakes me like the smell of you on the pillow I reach into you to pull the veil from the moment you cry out into the corners of the room like you’re swallowed up in ecstasy the flavor of your secret a soft nectar in my mouth and time stands still on a pinpoint no falling action all is kinetic and I hold my breath begging God to hold back time while our eyes take in each other your naked body like a gift your heart on a silver platter. You ask to be on top but I can’t bear to let you up. I love the way your body responds to my touch I can’t stop holding you there your mouth says no but your heart says yes and I love to see you want me in spite of yourself.
The wine courses through my veins. I relent under the onslaught of the liquor and your eyes become a memory. But tomorrow brings a promise that your naked skin will keep, and I gather up these moments like snapshots in an album, like pedantic foolishness in a journal, filled with unfounded romance and the opposite of love. But I love you, as much as my wrung-out heart can love, and every promise that I make to you will not go unfulfilled. So long as you can let your body loose in my embrace. And I won’t hold it against you for leaving Malibu sand in my bed.
I’m waiting for you to finish the song.”
If I’m honest, I wrote this lurid account hoping my ex would read it and feel something. All these years later, I realize she stopped feeling anything for me long before, and nothing I did or said would change that. In the end, this remains as a record of my own weakness at the time. Thankfully, all sentiment was crushed out of me in the subsequent years, and my sense of self worth no longer relies on the approval or affection of others. Ironically, I have that now in spades. And by spades I mean, a harem. So wherever you are in the world and in your life, if you find yourself held hostage by other people’s feelings, let me encourage you to break free. And if you don’t know how, here’s step one: move to Thailand. Cheers to you shedding your emotional chains, and cheers to another week above ground in this adult playground known as Thailand.