Thai Wife

So maybe Anita was too young “But these days fifteen year olds know an awful lot more than you think”, I said to her mother (my erstwhile best friend) “and they have to have a balanced view”. Of course Rita, as a mother, had her script and I, as the bad influence ‘auntie’ amongst the good fairy godmothers, I also had my script. Ok so maybe I was a bit too crude but “Show me the latest computer games and I’ll show you crude and frankly dodgy psychology” I said in my defence. What was my sin anyway? Just trying to explain further from the birds and the beez which Anita, without being too explicit, had let me know she was well aware of. This came as no surprise to me, she was a beautiful, tall blonde with a self- assured manner inherited from her father, though as I wistfully reminded Rita, I knew we ‘had lost it’ much later, on the verge of going to university in the 80’s in fact.

We had been sitting in the large airy kitchen where all their lives I had seen Anita and her younger sister Laura struggle first with food and then homework. Only a couple of years back they still used to play with more dolls than you could ever imagine and were especially fond of a quartet based on a TV series about young witches with a vast array of powers. Now Anita had been showing me her notes for an end of year video project she was enlisting some class mates along to make. The ‘movie’ was set in a disco where characters not unlike herself and her friends were discussing various crushes and relationships problems. I was struck at how familiar the issues seemed and I wondered if it all really starts to go wrong so soon in life. The ‘screenplay’ was good, though very simplistic but then again their access to props and materials was limited. I told her to beware being the chief scriptwriter, the director and then also trying to bag the central character role. This was bound to make the rest of the team resent her at some point. “You’ll find it’s no fun getting all the praise but being unpopular.” She replied in her 8 year old voice “But the video-camera is mine!”, “Right”, I answered, picking up said object which was so small and light I could see why everyone was a documentary or indie filem maker these days “So you are the producer as well? You should let your cousin help you with setting the scenes, she’s smart that one”. Anita frowned and pursed her lips so I just set about helping her with the dialogue and characters’ motivation. I remember myself and Rita at that age, with no mobile phones and no video cameras, but we’d also acted out our own stories in her older brothers’ den under the roof of her parents’ big house. There was a core of five of us in the gang and all fighting for power and lead roles, till we would be kicked out by the brothers and their mates wanting to listen to some prog rock and smoke in peace. They didn’t fancy us and we didn’t fancy them, in their regulation Che Guevara t-shirts and silly beards.

I simply don’t know how I digressed to explain my theory but I did, “So stone me” I said to Rita later trying to justify my, er, lecture. “She’s 15, she’s reading or will be soon, Marguerite Duras, Henry Miller, Anais Niin, don’t you remember? Or does that come much later in the syllabus? Of course I went and got them out of the public library as soon as the librarian let me, but you have them next door in the study in any case. And Alina Reyes comes cover mounted free with the news magazines.” But she wouldn’t accept my point of view, her words still ringing in my ears now “Isabel, have you gone completely INSANE?, she’s a kid for god’s sakes! I don’t want you to set foot in the house again ever! And I haven’t even told Ivan.”

Yet my theory was not what you would call corrupting a minor, it was just some valuable advice, pretty straightforward and it had nothing to do with Venus or Mars and all that psychology bollocks. “Guys - I said come in two types, not good guys or bad guys, but more accurately I should say they come in two sizes: small dick and big dick. Average goes into the small dick category, however hard you try to believe otherwise, Mr, er, average.”

I went on to explain as Anita’s mouth formed a very big oh and her elbows dug a bit deeper on the mahogany kitchen table “Guys know, they always know, there is no escape from knowing. Ah, if only their attributes were hidden like women so nobody would know and judge them accordingly. Sure women have their standards by which they get judged too, tits being the nearest equivalent, but it’s just not the same. Everyone knows that, though it’s pretty rare, there are some guys who don’t focus on tits at all and so you can get away with the flat chest. Maybe.” Anita’s was already well developed so I didn’t think I’d be giving her any complex in that area.

I continued “But for guys it’s a long and pain ridden road. I wonder how it works in other cultures where nudity is not so easy to share (check Muslim or Japanese) but in the west you’d be on a losing road trying to hide. So there he could be, a regular guy just beginning to wonder if this thing that’s keeping him awake at night is normal and bam, some other jerk at school or sports club etc. will waste no time in drawing attention to it and passing judgement. Poor boys, they can’t really ask anyone else, i mean not even their dads, bound to lie to them to spare their feelings and if they look in dirty magazines well, they are going to feel like, seriously deficient. It’s hard to be logic when you look at those and remember that the people you see in those pages probably only had that one thing to offer and that’s why they got the gig. Freaks!”

“So, er, when you start having sex maybe most girls are not going to know or notice, it’s not that even in this permissive society they would have seen too many dicks hard. actually, ‘seeing’ is not relevant here, ‘tried’ is, because upon seeing a small dick you can still kid yourself that it will grow, but once it’s in, it’s too late. Later on girls read all this stuff in those useless magazines I’ve helped spend hundreds of pounds purchasing, about ‘it’s not the size it’s the motion’ and so on. Yes, granted, finesse and skill come into it but and there’s those that would take half an hour of good cunnilingus (the small dick guy’s sole strategy) over a bad big dick fuck but ...in the long run you want both right?”

Here Anita interrupted to ask for specific measurements, so I took her exercise book and drew a few ‘towers’ rather than shape them properly. I never was any good at drawing.
There are some dicks that are too big of course and that’s a shame. Either way too long or girth too wide. Though don’t be fobbed off by these guys trying to get out of wearing condoms because ‘it hurts me’. Nothing as disappointing as coming across one of those and thinking ‘Wow, baby’ and then, nothing doing, it just won’t slide in and out effortlessly. Possibly because some psychological shutters have closed upon sight. Not the, ‘oh this is going to hurt me’ but more likely the ‘If i take this, what’s that going to do to my c.. and will it stretch it too wide forever? And then what?’ Of course babies come out of there and so it stretches but, that’s exactly the point, it doesn’t really shrink back to what it was.

I don’t remember what Anita asked here, but I begged her to let me go on and save questions for later.

“So, let’s go back. Small dick guys are the ones who will try harder to please you in every way, they will be like the ugly guy who’s really funny or intellectually smart. Had to try somehow. The big dick guys are the ones who because they know they sit (er…) on a gold mine, will be a little more, shall we say, selfish, egotistical etc. even if they are ugly, like the Morlocks out of the Lord of the Rings. Also, beware of course of bluffers: guys who hang around the alpha male in their group and hope to big themselves up that way. Or even lead the pack. I mean, I am convinced The Fonz was a bluffer but I can’t prove it and besides that’s one TV series too far back in time for you.”
“But why is this so important Auntie?”

“Because you may get caught and have to stay with one forever. Small dick guys will try to get married faster than big dick guys. They will hope that the girl never finds out what’s out there that’s a better offer than what he has. Small dick guys who get divorced and are a bit older and, crucial this, are not rich, will head for Thailand and kill two birds with one stone. I know what doctors the world over say i.e. that the vagina has the ability to accommodate any size but, follow my logic here, if over centuries of evolution Thai vaginas have accommodated smaller dicks, well, they are going to be thinking it’s Christmas when some middle aged English guy arrives brandishing enough cash to buy a washing machine and a fridge for their family and then maybe offer to take the new girlfriend as a wife back to some exciting new world like Stratford.”

Sorry, this is so non-pc but am prepared to receive hate mail letters by offended Japanese men, Thai men etc. Look I didn’t make the rules. And before anyone says anything about black guys.. it’s true. They are, on average, bigger. Ask anyone who works at a urinary disease clinic. Actually don’t ask, black guys don’t like going to be checked up for anything. And anyway don’t rush out all at once ladeez because despite how much they big themselves up in their hip hop videos, there are drawbacks like for example they don’t like going down on you (referring this to Caribbean specifically) and they don’t like taking you from the back either. Some major fear that this will make them like guys it seems from my conversations. This may make a number of women sigh hallelujah! Possibly the women who are too uptight to let someone eat their pussy (cause it’s dirty or some such nonsense) and their ass. “Ok I know that at your age you think it’s despicable and degrading and close to rape but approached the right way. I’ll explain another time.” I said to Anita and apologised for my use of crude language. She went pensive for a moment and then said “Mum and dad met when they were 18 so does that mean…?” Oh, shit, I thought blushing, that’s right, big faux pas, so I added hastily, “I’ve never heard your mum complain in all these years so I think they must be fine.”

“Besides, maybe don’t mind me. What can I do? ‘You are a size queen”, so says my cousin Paula who’s got cobwebs in her fanny (doesn’t even manage an adventure on one of those organised holidays she goes on twice a year) and so despises my talk of dicks. She hasn’t grown to worship them like I do, marvelling at their beautiful construction, the miracle of bringing something from limp to stiff, their strength.”

I said to Anita “ I am going to avoid the pitfalls of discussing circumcised vs. uncut, though frankly... ok no, some things have to remain private and i don’t want to put anyone off possibly becoming my future husband. Just bring me a clean big dick and we can talk!”

From time to time Anita giggled and said she’d never thought about this. I told her that at her age I didn’t know either, but I kind of had an instinct that the man who run the bumper cars ride at the fair that came into town every October was a better starting option than the boy who adored me in my college class.

I was pretty comprehensive in the subject covered, giving Anita useful asides like “By the way, the correct reply when a guy says - it’s a rhetorical question for them in any case- ‘You like sucking my cock, yes, you like it don’t you?’ is - if you can take your mouth off it for a few seconds - ‘of course darling, because it’s hard and gorgeous to behold but... all within limits, as defined by no more than ten minutes at a time and alternating deep and shallow. Gagging is not pleasant. If you don’t believe me, I can get you something rubbery and of similar size to practice on. Does that answer your question?”
“It goes without saying that he doesn’t want to hear all this and a simple thumbs up sign will do - trying to say yes or no with a dick in your mouth is going to make your teeth bite into it and that’s also not what he wants). But learn to assert your rights as early as you can, that’s my advice.”

At that point we heard Rita arrive back from her trip to pick up the little one from guitar practice and Anita and I exchanged knowing looks, shushed and went back to her logistics. I showed how to create a budget, not that there was any need on this occasion, as all would be funded by the deep pockets of her parents.

Life carried on as always for a few days till Rita’s Range Rover screeched to a halt in front of my house one afternoon. I greeted her as usual but didn’t have much time to say anything because she was screaming at me right there in the garden whilst the dogs went crazy barking. Turns out Anita’s video camera had been running during the course of my ‘lesson’ and she had helpfully organised a screening for her girlfriends. This caused so much giggling and hysterics, prompting Rita to ignore the ‘Keep well out’ sign on her daughter’s bedroom door and, well, we know the rest.

I wish I could say I was repentant but I wasn’t and unfortunately that proved to be my downfall in my previous life. I say previous because as it happened Rita and the fairy godmothers (i.e. the other married pillars of the community whose daughters were obviously in peril with me around) cast an evil spell and when I died I came back to earth as a Thai wife. It’s a sort of baffling compromise and I am glad I am not a goat or something -thank you Shiva -, and I have learnt interesting things to do with a computer mouse (ping pong balls are so last century darling). Sure all the dicks I encountered in Bangkok were big but the bodies attached to them left a lot to be desired, bit old and unkempt or downright slack, saggy and overhanging. Eventually I did get tired of the routine at the Flower House after a while and accepted a good offer elsewhere. Luckily it is part of the stereotype that I should take a man’s shoes off when he comes home, bathe his feet (and him), make him wear fresh clothes and feed him (lots so he gets sluggish) and especially share a drink or two with him. This vodka you have in the West is marvellous non? It goes straight to my head and makes me practically swoon and I get a bit of double vision and disconnection so I really don’t notice much what goes on now with my husband from Stoke. However, as he’s a pensioner and I am still in my mid twenties, chances are that there will be enough to also buy a house back home by the beach when he surely will pass on before me. And Anita misses me.