I could tell instantly from the look of horror written across my masseuses eyes that the first thing she had seen on me as I turned over to lay on my back was the massive black and blue morass that infested both my shins. It concerned her so much that she delicately avoided the area entirely as her massage progressed from my feet up towards my thighs. At last she couldn’t take it any longer I guess and she meekly whispered so as to be barely audible by anyone else but us :
“You shouldn’t let him hit you like that. Take it from me , I would leave him tonight, right now.” To which my immediate response was simply, “who?”
“Him, the man who did this to you” at first directing her gaze at my battered legs, and then touching the other black and blue parts on my body, my elbows, the instep of my foot, my shoulder , to name a few.
“Do you fight?” she asked.
“No, men pay me to hit them” I smiled back as I said that.
“Mai dee” she shook her head disapprovingly as she spoke, it’s meaning being “not good at all” in English. After that there was once again silence in our little massage room as there had been for the first hour of my massage, but now the air stood heavy with an uncomfortable silence. On or about the 10th “mai dee” from her mouth which was always followed by a “tsk tsk tsk” sound, I sort of half sat up and said to her, in Thai , “when we started an hour ago you said I was the perfect girl with the most perfect body and now …?”
“You not proper Thai lady, I see now.” she said. Which as I laid back to – not really enjoy the last half of my massage – I contemplated :
If I didn’t live in such a self-manifesting condescending society , would I still truly be “the perfect woman?”
Well, from a man’s perspective, what qualities need to be present to constitute the perfect woman? See that’s a tough question because to a man there are two types of women, the type you marry and the type you fuck. Perfection therefore, lays somewhere between, because a girl will therefore be considered desirable by all men. This week, in conversations with both my real life male friends and submissive’s alike , I asked for one word answers of what makes a woman perfect per se and the top 3 words from a survey of about 50 men were :
Naughty , Intelligent , Wild
That’s interesting isn’t it? I wish the sample size was larger as those words seem to portray an elusive girl that a man cannot fully control or comprehend. That’s me. It also happens to be the anti-thesis of how we’re taught to be in school. To be certain, I was as close to being an anti-Christ figure as one could be back in my school days. When we were being repeatedly drilled with the “12 Core Values of Being Thai” I checked and double checked, but didn’t see “burning all of my parents clothes” or “throwing sis’s bike in the river” as being included. I didn’t improve much as I grew older either – i had hoofed my first set of ‘nards by the time I was 15 , spat down a boy’s throat at 16 , hit my last teacher at 17 and broke a guy’s nose at 18 … and last night as well but we’ll get to that a bit later on.
This week, as measured from last Monday to yesterday (Tuesday) had three separate occasions where I was verbally called “perfect” by three different people, and in every single instance it was almost simultaneously pointed out to me that my behavior was not “perfectly Thai” which delighted me to no end as I strive constantly to be as anti-thai as possible.
The instance of being Naughty occurred right down stairs here in my condo’s gym. Every afternoon, or errr … now it’s gonna be every other afternoon to give my legs time to recover … I’m down in the gym with my trainer banging out two hours of Muay Thai, but that’s not the end of my workout. I always hang around after he leaves to do an extra thirty minutes of weights and it’s about that time that another resident has taken it upon himself to ‘coincidentally’ be working out just as my Muay Thai wraps up.
Now he’s 50’ish , but the type of fifty that works out in the gym like he’s still 22 and struts instead of walks, you know? I equate it to how a peacock fans his feathers , except , he looks more like a Marabou Stork than a Peacock. So, he sets his incline sit up bench 45 degrees steeper than mine and while holding a weight to his chest he tries to disguise the fact he’s giving himself a hernia by deciding that’s the best time to break the ice with me:
“What’s a tiny hot girl like you doing Muay Thai for?”
“I want to learn to fight” I say.
“Sexy girl like you should be a lover not a fighter?”
To which I figure, why not – let’s give this guy an instant erection and I ask him frankly “why, you want to be my lover? I fired my last one.”
When I said that he stopped mid sit up and I was sure the 20lb weight was going to make him prolapse his ass right there as we spoke because he was just frozen in that position searching for an adequate reply.
“You’re naughty.’ he says.
“I am” I said hitting the ball back to his court immediately. Your serve.
He then did that thing with his hand that men do where they rub their mustache stubble with their index finger, a subconscious replacement for the word “hmm”. He glances over his shoulder disapprovingly at the only other person in the gym room with us, a portly fifty-something year old walking her way to Timbuktu on the treadmill at a pace that would get her there sometime in the next millennium.
“You know” he begins, and he’s lowered the tone of his voice down to the octave sound range reserved for sexy talk, “I have some time…”
“Daddy Daddy , mommy wants to see you now” shouts out his ever so cute six-ish year old daughter as she bursts into the room and looks somewhat taken aback by the proximity of daddy to a much younger hot sweaty chick.
The poor guy, he looked like he had his soul, his liver, and his heart all ripped out of him at the same time. His daughter’s words were more life destroying than Magneto sucking iron from a prison guards body.
“Good-bye daddy daddy, mommy’s waiting” I said with a bite of my lip.
“Fuck you’re perfect, did you know that?’ was his final comment to me as he spun around, changed persona, and picked up his daughter all in the same second, glancing back one last time though as he disappeared for the elevator. I have no doubt that at some point that night he squeezed one out dreaming of what might have been … you know … had he not gotten married and torpedoed his shot at ever being spontaneous again.
Then as I’m toweling off and leaving the gym Orca chick on the treadmill throws a casual “mai dee” (not good) my way and get this, she lifts her chin up and continues walking all the while sort of gazing up at the fluorescent lights on the ceiling. lmao. Being only the first of three times someone would throw a similar comment at me within 48 hours it didn’t even occur to me to say something back to her, I instead just ignored her and went back to my condo to shower.
Intelligence. I think it’s the quality that makes men the most turned on by a woman. Case in point:
Hxxx <[email protected]>
So, I saw your picture on the website and I thought wow, looks good. But often website and reality are not the same. Haha
Then I met you and I was pleasantly surprised and felt something so I’m intrigued. I have to come back and see you… So I came back and I feel just as good with you and by the time I left I like you even more. Your fun and smart and sexy!! Perfect combination.
But the moment that really wanted to just jump you and I know I fell for you in an uncontrollable way was when we were doing the room escape. There was one moment when I was putting the transparencies over the picture or mirror or something and started reading what I thought it said. You just started writing it on the white board and then found the missing letters and got the code like instantly. I wanted to just go over to you and kiss you right then! I’m addicted!!
Though I’ve been asked out by thousands, I’ve only fucked three guys in three years. What do you suppose the common denominator was to the difference in approach of all three? Pretty girls get told they’re pretty so often it has no effect , yet “you’re stunning” “you’re beautiful” and “you’re gorgeous” are the three most commonly used ice-breaking lines guys use when approaching me.
To save both my time and theirs my immediate retort is always the same “you just lost your chance” – which laughingly instantaneously changes their demeanor and I get hit with “wow you’re not friendly at all” as their next line. It’s exponentially more annoying when men try the same approach via text messaging. Sending me a photo of your hairy chest and semi-fat stomach isn’t going to get my pussy juices leaking down my leg – but all guys think they are hot in some way, it’s like a self induced mass hypnosis thing going on.
The few who appeal to my intelligence , they find the map to the golden monkey.
Rewind to last weekend where I’m out with Mistress Wael , one of her Jiu Jitsu girlfriends – a very classy middle society girl who studied for her Masters degree in London (my dream), and we’re put at a table with an obviously ‘wealthy by familial association’ hi-so chick and her tag-a-long friend of equal intellectual fluff. The final chair was eventually taken by a strikingly handsome American man who was literally attacked in conversation by those two hi-so girls who were completely smitten that he could converse with them in Thai. Which meant to me that he’s a resident – and removes any and all interest on my part – which possibly he picked up on as a quarter of an hour later I hadn’t once engaged him in any conversation whatsoever so he leaned over and initiated with me.
Shockingly, he was from Boston and having been down that road before I asked him if he was a Red Sox fan and asked him to say “I parked the car in Harvard Yard.” That led to conversations about the Bruins, the Freedom Trail, the Boston Tea Party , and yada – yada – yada thirty minutes later he’s begging me for my phone number for the third time and I’m stonewalling him each time.
“I’m gonna go buy you a drink” he says and excuses himself to go do just that. Ok fine, I begin to talk to Wael as I feel bad she was sort of left alone there when the hi-so chick barks over to me in Thai “why do feel the need to speak so much English, you’re Thai, be Thai.”
I’ve been to ten countries now in the world, I can tell you without a doubt that if I had a million conversations in each of the places I’ve been not one person would take it upon themselves to be so brainwashed as to think that speaking any language but their own is some sort of faux pas. For instance, you would never ever catch a Canadian leaning over at a restaurant in Vancouver to tell a Vietnamese couple to kindly speak English because they are presently in Canada. I get the sense that might well happen in France though – as French people and I clash like you wouldn’t believe. If there’s two people who deserve each other it’s French and Thai’s.
Mr.Boston the 2nd (inside joke) comes back with three champagne glasses , one for Wael, himself and I – and none for the other two lmao – and he says “what shall we toast to.”
“The green monster” i say back.
“Fine, to the Green Monster” and we clink our glasses and say “Cheers”
I look over at the two excluded from the clinking and say “We say Cheers in English, it means Fuck you”
That did it. Squawk, squawk, squawk – she bursts out in gutter level profane Thai , and the dude is astonished thinking “what the fuck just happened”
I told him “if there actually was a Yellow Brick Road , she’d crawl and kiss it” , then I took a last sip of the champagne … cuz why let good stuff like that go to waste haha … and asked Wael if she’d be fine to leave, and apologized to her friend as we had attended on her behalf. I tell you, with other Thai’s we’re like water and oil, I don’t mix at all with them.
“Wait” he says, placing his hand gently on my shoulder. “You’re the most perfect girl I’ve met here and I’ve been here a long time, cant’ I see you?”
“Because … you’ve been here for a very long time. That’s why.”
“Geez you’re not very friendly” he says standing up very straight , lol, i guess the fall from perfection is a swift one huh?
I think being told a second time that I wasn’t very Thai was creating a built up anger somewhere in my sub-conscious, simply because it’s so mind boggling to me in some sort of way, even though I live here and I’m from here … that I’m the girl being screamed at in the final scene of Invasion of the Body Snatchers.
So keep in mind that I was heedlessly fostering this resentment to those two chicks, and include if you will that for the past few months I’ve been punching pads for 2 hours every afternoon. Because as one of you has found online, there’s a nasty picture of me today in a Thai gossip website which captures a glimpse of what happened last night at a new club’s grand opening private galla event. I’m not defending myself , I’m just saying “hey … here’s the backstory of why that may of happened, and chill out because to me it was fucking funny.”
My very best friend, gay guy that I’ve known for years got an invite to this hi-so club’s private party .. to which if you’ve ever been to one, it’s by invite only, and those who get invited are the hottest looking Thai chicks, even hotter looking foreigner male models , media, and well-to-do Thai’s who want to rub elbows with one another and be seen at such an event.
I got in in my head that since there were going to be so many gorgeous looking people there that I would be the one to turn all their heads and I raped my closet looking for the sexiest combo I could find , thinking that I’d go as a modern day Cleopatra of sorts. Well, it ended up that I looked a hell of a lot more like Salma Hayak from her role in the movie From Dusk ‘Til Dawn , so much so that I was considering somehow incorporating a Python into my selection of attire.
Last night, or well, two nights ago as I’m continuing this story here on Wednesday, was the hottest I’ve ever looked I think. It was definitely the boldest I’ve ever been. We, as Thai’s are a finicky bunch – it’s great to be hot and sexy until – it’s not ok to be hot and sexy , know what I mean? There’s this “oh no she didn’t” standard here that doesn’t exist in say , Los Angeles California or South Beach, Miami where hot is hot without limits.
Now you don’t wear something this skimpy and show up for the ribbon cutting ceremony so we showed up just after 11pm when the drinking and dancing was getting underway , and right away I caused 30 or 40 whiplash casualties walking in from the taxi.
Just as much as they were drooling, so was I , there were hot dudes a plenty at the place – and guess who they were all eyeballing? I was ready to own men’s minds that evening, all I needed was for the music to start going, get a few drinks in me and I would have owned the dance floor.
For whatever reason , and it started a while ago but has pleasingly gotten out of control , I have been inundated with friend requests on my Facebook from male models. All it took was one session with a hot hot submissive model who added me on his Facebook – and then a few tags later and voila – my Facebook for me is like a Playgirl magazine of deliciousness. One these model dudes , the guy in the photo here to be exact , added me just over a month ago , and like the rest of them – I have no idea who they are in real life.
Except, this guy not only exists , but he was in attendance at that same party and wouldn’t you know it, he actually recognized me as his Facebook friend. Him and his girl friend , also a model and working the event with him approach me where I’m sitting with my gay friend who began squeezing the life blood out of my hand as the two came and sat down at our table. To me it was like , well .. I guess it’s like seeing Hercules in a movie and then suddenly , poof ..,. Hercules is sitting at your table and all you can think of saying is .. “hey, you’re Hercules , you’re that guy.” Then my mind goes blank and silently I”m blabbering “hercules, hercules, hercules” like the grandmother in The Nutty Professor ..
His girlfriend slips away to do something else and he sits there with his face cupped his palms , elbows on the table , looking at me like he’s completely smitten with me. My gay friend is sitting with the same look in the same smitten posture, all the while kicking the shit out of my already badly bruised shins below the table. But this dude is the loyal type , he’s not hitting on me, he’s not flirting with me, he is just simply sitting down and genuinely wanting to get to know someone he is “friends” with but is meeting for the first time.
All the while, I am even more genuinely wanting to get onto the dance floor with all the super hot guys who are now shyly glancing up at me one by one as our table is adjacent to where they’re all dancing and if they reached up they could touch my ankle , i’m that close to them.
Then it hits me why all the shy looks from below. This guy is cock blocking me. Or pussy blocking , or whatever you want to call the act of prohibiting all the hot young models from dancing with Salma Hayak , who desperately wants to get her ‘snake-on’ and start rubbing asses down there.
When this dude added me as his friend and I first checked him out I was like “oh god, fuck me sideways, how do I go about knowing this guy” and now that he was here in front of me I couldn’t get rid of him fast enough.
Right at the pinnacle of my frustration , an old woman who was 80 kilos of walking oatmeal comes right up to me and stops just long enough to whisper over to me in our language , “your clothes are not suitable for being Thai” and then starts to walk away. I yelled out to her, in English, “you’re a fat hairy bitch, goony goo goo”
She continues sauntering off and inside, I’ve snapped. That was the third fucking time inside of 72 hours I’ve been told I’m not perfectly Thai , and at this point I had a fever, and the only prescription … was dancing with hot dudes.
I turn around and Hercules begins asking me what that was all about but I cut him off mid sentence.
“If you don’t go away, like right now at this instant, I’m going to punch you in the nose.” I said curtly.
He laughed. As if that wasn’t enough , he baited me by saying “if that’s what it takes then go ahead, punch me in the nose, I want to get to know y…”
My left cross connected precisely with the bridge of his nose, my wrist finishing it’s rotation as it did so and then returning to my guard – just as I had been taught every day for the past few months as proper technique.
I have no excuse as to why I did it , I’m certainly not violent – outside of my sessions at least. I wasn’t really punching him per se , for in my mind I was simultaneously punching the three chicks who had deemed it necessary to scold me on my lack of Thai-ness the past few days. Now I’m like 45 kilos soaking wet , so this was really very much like David attacking Goliath and just as it went down in the story , Goliath or in this case Hercules had fallen mightily to the ground, crashing into the table behind us as he did so , which in turn spilled the table behind it knocking two other people out of their chairs.
I could hear the collective gasp over the pounding music from those seated around us.
A trickle of blood leaked from his nose as he looked up at me more with astonishment than anger, thankfully.
“I told you.” is all I said. No apologies, that would be so unbecoming of me. Then there was the flash of a camera , and there you have the essence of the photo in that online magazine, me standing over this Herculean model having “caused a vulgar scene” at the caption says.
There was nothing vulgar about it. I warned him, he chose to ignore the warning, and as it’s in my nature to do, I followed through with the warning. It’s been my signature all my life. I told them I was going to burn the clothes if things didn’t change before I did it. I warned there would be the consequence of fetching a bicycle from the swampy river if it wasn’t shared equally with me , and just then I had told him there would be a punch to the nose.
I guess guys appreciate honesty for do you know what he said when he finally got up?
“You’re fucking perfect you know that?”
Yes I am … just not perfectly Thai , and that’s perfect by me 🙂