Life: Drink it in
Sometimes life takes weird turns. The kind of turns that make you stop and ask yourself questions. Questions like, "How did I wind up on the porch of this Rococo mini-mansion on the outskirts of the city at 2 in the morning?" "Who is this handsome devil who invited me over to his house?" and "Why can't I stop smiling?"
The answer to these questions are: "I don't know." "Tanny." and "Because I'm totally crushin'."
Boy. The last 24 hours: Drink 'em in. This "Tanny," a sweet and charming knight with a kind heart and winning smile, has caused me to go all fuzzy. He took me dancing two nights ago, and saw me home in a cab, like true gentleman, insisting I call him when I get home, so he "knows I got home safe." Last night found us having dinner at the casual-classy Central Food Loft, then shopping at the international food market for Steve's birthday present, and eating ice cream at the ice cream shop*. After a foiled attempt to see a movie (foiled by a poor selection of movies), this petit prince invited me home to his house for a cup of tea and pleasant company. After two cups of tea, many hands of cards**, and few hours of conversation about past loves, future loves, Thailand, America, Rococco and Baroque design, and an ongoing lesson in Thai, we found ourselves in an unexpected situation of mutual attraction, shyness and and confusion.
The following conversation (always initiated by Tanny) I am now able to have fluently in Thai:
"What?"
"Nothing."
"Really, nothing?"
"Really, nothing."
"Are you sure?"
"I don't know."
I never spent more time thinking about The Odyssey while with a potential lover, than when we sat there, both of us chewing out lips in anxiety and desire, but rendered immobile by the restrictions of guest/host relations. I COULD NOT make the first move. As a guest in his house, into which he was kind enough to invite me, if I were to be mistaken about his feelings and move to kiss him, what an ass would I be? Of course if like a barbaric Calypso, he threw himself upon me unwanted, while I was already stranded for the night at his house, what an ass would he be?
The tension was finally broken when Tanny, on the flimsy premise of comparing the length of our digits, took hold of my hand, announced that "[my] hands are like margarine" and left our fingers entwined in his lap.
"What?"
"Nothing."
"Really, nothing?"
"Really, nothing."
"Are you sure?"
"I don't know."
blinking silence, during which my body stayed completely still but my mind had already lept from my skull and run screaming towards and directly through the nearest window
"Okay, so if you want something to happen you need to start it, because I'm a guest in your home so I can't."
...........................................................................................
That night as we were going to bed, in what was either extreme concern for my comfort, an awkward rejection of his Thai roots, or some strange display of wealth, Tanny pumped up the air-con so high that we required three blankets and much cuddling-for-warmth to fall asleep. It was one of those nights that nights in new places often are, especially with new lovers in small beds, where I woke up a dozen times during the night and it seemed like days until dawn. The exhausting delay of the night's passage was not the anxiety-causing headache that it usually is, though, but rather a pleasant reminder of security and comfort, as with each shift and stir Tanny would wrap himself around me or me around himself, like a sleepwalking rock climber or koala bear.
When the morning finally arrived, to what seemed like our mutual disappointment, I was unsure of how to act or what to do. Though we spent a night full of affection that far outlasted the sex, it is more than once that I've spent a significant period of time courting a boy, getting to know his friends and growing attached to them (for one grows attached to new friends very quickly while alone in a new country), only to find that his interest in me is lost after the sexual encounter finally happens. Such is the downside, I suppose, of only dating middle class Thais who don't normally date foreigners, being the temporary novelty, but as I have no interest in the foreigner bars on Silom or the money boys who inhabit them, I don't have much of a choice. In any case, though I haven't yet liked or felt liked by a boy this much since I've been here (or founded a potential relationship on weeks of platonic friendship), expereince (and possibly Steve and Sanon's constant shit-talking of the wealthy Chinese in Thailand) caused me much morning-after worry. I knew that Tanny's family was coming to visit at 8:00, and that Tanny had a lot of cleaning to do before they arrived.
"So... If you need me to go home so you can clean, I will. But I'm happy to stay and help you, if you want me to."
"I don't want you to stay and help me. But I don't want you to go home. You should stay and not help me."
Somehow, I wound up spending the next 9 hours laying around cuddling, getting yelled at every little while for attempting to swab the deck or fold his laundry, and occasionally having more sex with him. Every couple hours I would suggest that he would be more productive without me, that maybe Steve and Sanon were worried about me, that perhaps I should go, to which he would always respond, "No! I'll tell you when you should leave. I mean, I don't want you to leave yet, please stay more," (which is of course exactly what I wanted to hear, and possibly the only thing cuter to my ears than when he says "chocolate," in which he pronounces the second O, or "mix and match," [which he somehow managed to say 3 times] his slight lisp and native-thai problem pronouncing the affricate "ks" causing it to come out "mikth and match").
Kids, I'm totally crushin'.
But are you ready for the kicker? Are you ready for the kicker, kids? Tanny, this rogue king, this ladybug prince, is leaving for vacation (ahem, "holiday") to Europe TONIGHT. Starting TONIGHT he will be going to London/Paris/Vienna for ONE MONTH. What??? First of all, I want to go to Vienna! Second of all, ONE MONTH? Too long! Too badly timed! What does one do in this situation? Crap, dude, I can't even talk about it. Do I wait around for a month, seeing no one else until he gets back? I'd be happy to, if I knew it was worth it. But what if when he gets back, everything's all weird? A month of remaining devoted while one's lover is away can build up some pretty high expectations, and a month of devotion based on 28 hours (albeit an amazing 28 hours), sounds like it could be risky. Oh, what is a boy to do?
That's it. Somehow these paragraphs took me hours to write, and now I'm through.
Also, I'm really really sorry to everyone whom I haven't written in the past week and a half or so. Masashi's visit took every spare moment of every day and as soon as he left, well, this stuff. I promise tomorrow will be a day of major correspondence.
*I want to say "ice cream store" as it should be called, but unfortunately it is British English that is spoken here, not American, so I've found that I've had to adjust my vocabulary accordingly. Hence "running around" has become "running about", "vacation" has become "holiday" and, PS, do you know how much of a dousche bag I feel like saying "trousers"?
** classy card games, not the trashy Pok Kau I played with Nat and his friends, a game best left for the smoky back rooms of Apocalypse Now
PS - Check www.nerdpics.net for more pictures of Rococo mini-mansion, and, probably more excitingly, pictures from masashi's visit to bangkok last week. go nerdpics!
The answer to these questions are: "I don't know." "Tanny." and "Because I'm totally crushin'."
Boy. The last 24 hours: Drink 'em in. This "Tanny," a sweet and charming knight with a kind heart and winning smile, has caused me to go all fuzzy. He took me dancing two nights ago, and saw me home in a cab, like true gentleman, insisting I call him when I get home, so he "knows I got home safe." Last night found us having dinner at the casual-classy Central Food Loft, then shopping at the international food market for Steve's birthday present, and eating ice cream at the ice cream shop*. After a foiled attempt to see a movie (foiled by a poor selection of movies), this petit prince invited me home to his house for a cup of tea and pleasant company. After two cups of tea, many hands of cards**, and few hours of conversation about past loves, future loves, Thailand, America, Rococco and Baroque design, and an ongoing lesson in Thai, we found ourselves in an unexpected situation of mutual attraction, shyness and and confusion.
The following conversation (always initiated by Tanny) I am now able to have fluently in Thai:
"What?"
"Nothing."
"Really, nothing?"
"Really, nothing."
"Are you sure?"
"I don't know."
I never spent more time thinking about The Odyssey while with a potential lover, than when we sat there, both of us chewing out lips in anxiety and desire, but rendered immobile by the restrictions of guest/host relations. I COULD NOT make the first move. As a guest in his house, into which he was kind enough to invite me, if I were to be mistaken about his feelings and move to kiss him, what an ass would I be? Of course if like a barbaric Calypso, he threw himself upon me unwanted, while I was already stranded for the night at his house, what an ass would he be?
The tension was finally broken when Tanny, on the flimsy premise of comparing the length of our digits, took hold of my hand, announced that "[my] hands are like margarine" and left our fingers entwined in his lap.
"What?"
"Nothing."
"Really, nothing?"
"Really, nothing."
"Are you sure?"
"I don't know."
blinking silence, during which my body stayed completely still but my mind had already lept from my skull and run screaming towards and directly through the nearest window
"Okay, so if you want something to happen you need to start it, because I'm a guest in your home so I can't."
...........................................................................................
That night as we were going to bed, in what was either extreme concern for my comfort, an awkward rejection of his Thai roots, or some strange display of wealth, Tanny pumped up the air-con so high that we required three blankets and much cuddling-for-warmth to fall asleep. It was one of those nights that nights in new places often are, especially with new lovers in small beds, where I woke up a dozen times during the night and it seemed like days until dawn. The exhausting delay of the night's passage was not the anxiety-causing headache that it usually is, though, but rather a pleasant reminder of security and comfort, as with each shift and stir Tanny would wrap himself around me or me around himself, like a sleepwalking rock climber or koala bear.
When the morning finally arrived, to what seemed like our mutual disappointment, I was unsure of how to act or what to do. Though we spent a night full of affection that far outlasted the sex, it is more than once that I've spent a significant period of time courting a boy, getting to know his friends and growing attached to them (for one grows attached to new friends very quickly while alone in a new country), only to find that his interest in me is lost after the sexual encounter finally happens. Such is the downside, I suppose, of only dating middle class Thais who don't normally date foreigners, being the temporary novelty, but as I have no interest in the foreigner bars on Silom or the money boys who inhabit them, I don't have much of a choice. In any case, though I haven't yet liked or felt liked by a boy this much since I've been here (or founded a potential relationship on weeks of platonic friendship), expereince (and possibly Steve and Sanon's constant shit-talking of the wealthy Chinese in Thailand) caused me much morning-after worry. I knew that Tanny's family was coming to visit at 8:00, and that Tanny had a lot of cleaning to do before they arrived.
"So... If you need me to go home so you can clean, I will. But I'm happy to stay and help you, if you want me to."
"I don't want you to stay and help me. But I don't want you to go home. You should stay and not help me."
Somehow, I wound up spending the next 9 hours laying around cuddling, getting yelled at every little while for attempting to swab the deck or fold his laundry, and occasionally having more sex with him. Every couple hours I would suggest that he would be more productive without me, that maybe Steve and Sanon were worried about me, that perhaps I should go, to which he would always respond, "No! I'll tell you when you should leave. I mean, I don't want you to leave yet, please stay more," (which is of course exactly what I wanted to hear, and possibly the only thing cuter to my ears than when he says "chocolate," in which he pronounces the second O, or "mix and match," [which he somehow managed to say 3 times] his slight lisp and native-thai problem pronouncing the affricate "ks" causing it to come out "mikth and match").
Kids, I'm totally crushin'.
But are you ready for the kicker? Are you ready for the kicker, kids? Tanny, this rogue king, this ladybug prince, is leaving for vacation (ahem, "holiday") to Europe TONIGHT. Starting TONIGHT he will be going to London/Paris/Vienna for ONE MONTH. What??? First of all, I want to go to Vienna! Second of all, ONE MONTH? Too long! Too badly timed! What does one do in this situation? Crap, dude, I can't even talk about it. Do I wait around for a month, seeing no one else until he gets back? I'd be happy to, if I knew it was worth it. But what if when he gets back, everything's all weird? A month of remaining devoted while one's lover is away can build up some pretty high expectations, and a month of devotion based on 28 hours (albeit an amazing 28 hours), sounds like it could be risky. Oh, what is a boy to do?
That's it. Somehow these paragraphs took me hours to write, and now I'm through.
Also, I'm really really sorry to everyone whom I haven't written in the past week and a half or so. Masashi's visit took every spare moment of every day and as soon as he left, well, this stuff. I promise tomorrow will be a day of major correspondence.
*I want to say "ice cream store" as it should be called, but unfortunately it is British English that is spoken here, not American, so I've found that I've had to adjust my vocabulary accordingly. Hence "running around" has become "running about", "vacation" has become "holiday" and, PS, do you know how much of a dousche bag I feel like saying "trousers"?
** classy card games, not the trashy Pok Kau I played with Nat and his friends, a game best left for the smoky back rooms of Apocalypse Now
PS - Check www.nerdpics.net for more pictures of Rococo mini-mansion, and, probably more excitingly, pictures from masashi's visit to bangkok last week. go nerdpics!