A Young Man’s Strange Erotic Journey Around the Globe

Life of a Manchild Chapter 7 – Cruel Love Affair

Chapter 7 – Cruel Love Affair

By the time I arrived in Tokyo with my buddy O’Shaughnessy in September 2012, it’d been five months since I’d last been intimate with my bitch lover. Although I found myself thinking about her all the time, I’d been quite hesitant to get back together with her. Over the years our relationship has been hot and cold. She has the power to lift me up when I feel down as well as that to rip my heart out whenever she sees fit.

I remember back around the time I’d first met her. I was just a kid back then when I came to realize both my father and my mother had been having adulterous relationships with this home-wrecking wench. Once we’d been acquainted, I started to notice that she seemed to be over at my house all the fucking time. As such, it was never much a surprise for me to walk in on my folks having a threesome with this intoxicating temptress. Although they always looked like they’d been having a good time, I knew that whatever pleasure they’d initially been getting out of that ice cold slut would inevitably lead to pain. She always had the uncanny ability to drive a wedge between my parents and tear the whole lot of us apart.

During my formative years, I’d always dreamed of a happy marriage for myself. I’d always wanted to spend my life with a beautiful woman that I’d do anything for that loved me with all her heart in return – one that I’d never get the urge to cheat on emotionally, physically or otherwise. But I gotta admit, even when I was younger, the illicit lover of my parents had a timeless appeal. Like nothing else ever could, she always brought smiles to their faces. In a matter of minutes, she could turn a gray sky blue. What was it about this woman, I always wondered, that they found so god damn charming? What was it that kept them coming back for more?

By the age of eighteen, I hadn’t been able to find a suitable lover for myself. In fact, I was very withdrawn when it came to interaction with members of the opposite sex. I think I’d been scarred by my parents’ wild drunken orgies that would sometimes last all night. The presence of the third party in their marriage would often lead to shouting, shoving and emotional violence and there was really nothing I could ever do to make it stop. I had self-esteem problems and could never summon the courage to just be myself around girls I thought I liked. I’d never even kissed one. I was very lonely all the time and the loneliness was unbearable.

One time I came across the same woman I’d known all those years alongside the railroad tracks. She’d been pimped out illegally by some Indian guy to a few of my friends. They’d torn off her outer clothing and had been suckling the whore’s bittersweet juices. And that’s when they asked me if I was ready to be a man. I looked over at her and she didn’t seem to mind. There seemed enough of her to go around to satisfy everybody’s needs. At the time, all my dreams of finding true love and all that corny-ass fairy tale bullshit seemed so distant and unattainable. This, on the other hand, appeared real. And it was an opportunity that I chose not to pass up.

After I’d put my lips on her I knew I’d never be the same. She made me feel all warm and fuzzy inside. When I was with her, my problems would disappear. She made me feel for the first time like my life was actually worth living. Even though I knew developing feelings for an unclean woman with a dog shit reputation is a fool’s game, I couldn’t help myself. Sometimes, even if I had work the following day, we’d stay up all night together – just me and her – hoping the morning would never come, hoping the magic would last forever. I wanted to be with her all of the time.

As I fell deeper and deeper under her spell, however, I could tell that she never loved me back. In fact, she loved to treat me like shit. I mean, not only did she continue to fuck my parents and all my friends when we were together, but she physically abused me and loved to play sick little mind games. And each time after I swore we were done – that we were broken up for good – I went crawling back to her. It’s because when we’re apart I still feel that emptiness, that pain of uncertainty that I’ve always felt – that great big hole in my heart I need to fill with something to be able to function from day to day. I need a reason to believe – a reason to keep going. And she was it. When we’re apart I never remember all the times she hurt me, only all the great times we’d shared together. Through whispers that offer the promise of fulfillment, she works her way back into my life. Deep down, I know it’ll never work out, but I never can say goodbye. I long for her and I to be one again.

On nights that she and I go out together, her polyamorous nature comes shining through. She knows that it’s my relationship with her that gives me the confidence to go out and get other chicks. She wants me to get all the pussy I can and, man, I’ve never known a better wingman than her. Somehow she knows what women wanna hear and tells me exactly what to say. It’s funny, I can never remember what those things are that other women find so charming when she’s not around to remind me. I’ve never – not once – been able to get pussy without her assistance and she never lets me forget it.

During our swinging nights out on the town, after my unfaithful partner helps me win the woman of my choosing and that girl is in my arms, this is when I notice she continues giving pleasure to everyone else around the room except me and I become jealous. Even though I know I could have a more peaceful, even-keeled life with the new woman whose locks she’d helped me pick, it’s when I no longer have my saucy little slut that I realize how much I miss her and the crazy bipolar lifestyle we share together – that I will never be able to let her go. Inevitably, I forsake the possibility of a more fulfilling relationship and go running back to my precious little heartbreaking cunt. No one can take me as high as she. I’m head over heels in love with her bubbly personality and always will be.

On our first day in Tokyo, my college buddy O’Shaughnessy and I spent the afternoon checking out all the modernity and perversion that Japan’s capital had to offer. The streets had been filled with beautiful women, flashing lights and a bunch of underlying fun to be had which we figured could only be accessed once a certain mind-altering chemical had been dumped into our systems. As such, the two of us headed over to an area called Tokyo Midtown sometime in the early evening where we wandered into a bar of which I forget the name.

The place had been filled with a solid mix of Japanese and expats – all of whom seemed to be having a pretty awesome time. Prior to arriving in Japan, I quit drinking to save up as much money as possible to take along with me on this trip that we’d just been beginning. Although I was successful in attaining my goals, I pretty much gave up my social life for a year-and-a-half to achieve ‘em. Aside from the few drunken slip-ups I’d had along the way, I hadn’t been to a bar or seen so many hot young chicks in one place at one time for almost just as long. So, when Tim weaseled his way to the front of the standing-room-only, crowded-ass bar…

“Yo,” I said while tapping him on the shoulder, “get me one too.”

“You sure?” he looked back at me while holding out his Yen.

“Yeah dude. Absolutely.”

After Tim passed me my drink, we took a step back from the bar and mingled with the crowd. As I sipped on the ice cold bottle of Asahi, my brain and tummy began to tingle in a way they hadn’t for so long. An old familiar feeling of comfort had come over me once again. The more we drank, the more freely our conversation with strangers began to flow. Soon enough, Tim and I were talking to anybody and everybody in the vicinity. For the most part, the people with whom we chatted came and went but one pair of Japanese women really liked talking to us and decided to stick around. The duo consisted of a cute girl in her early twenties named Miho and an older unmarried co-worker in her late forties – both of whom spoke a very good English.

After spending a few hours at that first place, the ladies suggested we go with them to a rooftop bar somewhere nearby. We decided that that sounded like a good idea and agreed to tag along. Once our foursome had taken an elevator some twenty floors to the top, we posted up at a table in the outdoor garden area on the warm September evening and proceeded to pound round after round of Crown on the rocks. Sometime during the session, I returned to my old tricks and began wandering from table to table where I saw people had been smoking and asking them if I could have one of their cigarettes.

Over the years, the older woman had probably been exposed to her fair share of Western jerk-offs that drink as much as O’Shaughnessy and I do and act like total assholes wherever we go. As such, she was less than impressed by our consumption of four drinks to their one and my sudden urge to start chain-smoking and talking about shit, piss, boogers, farts and fucking. Miho, on the other hand, found our behavior to be entertaining. She’d laughed at nearly everything we said and each time I made eye-contact with her, she’d wink and smile a cute smile right back at me. A girl like her was all I’d dreamed about during my year-and-a-half of sacrificial sobriety. And there she was on my first night out of the country, ready to make my dreams come true.

At some point in the conversation, my alcohol-fueled inner-Lothario decided to act on the vibe I thought I’d been getting. On my side of the table, Tim sat to my left. Across from him was Miho and across from me was the older lady. While listening to the older lady talk about her job and the ridiculous number of hours she worked each week and pretending to be interested, I lifted my left leg, extended it diagonally across the table and began rubbing my ankle up and down on the smooth, milky-white, fair-skinned calf of Miho. While nodding my head and trying to maintain as much eye contact with the older lady as possible to earn her approval, I glanced to my left to check on Miho’s reaction. She was beaming in my direction. Although her enthusiasm to my advance had practically given me a boner, I quickly returned my attention to the older lady as not to seem rude. When I did, Miho decided to start rubbing my leg in return. I’d gotten butterflies knowing that she’d been feeling for me what I’d been feeling for her.

We ended up drinking at that bar for another couple hours. By the time we left, I was shit-faced retarded. As soon as we got out of the building, Miho and I began making out in the street. It was great. I can still remember how fantastic it felt to hold her little body in my arms after enduring such a long, pussy-less, desert-dick of a dry spell.

At some point in our make-out session, the older lady tapped Miho on the shoulder and informed her she was calling it quits.

“I think I’m going to go back to my apartment,” Miho said with her arms still wrapped around my neck and a wonderful sparkle in her eyes. “What are you going to do?”

“I don’t know,” I said to her and then looked over at Osh. “Yo, whattaya wanna do – you wanna take a train back to the hostel or something?”

“Oh no,” Miho interjected while pulling me closer, “the trains have already stopped running and won’t resume until the morning.”

“Oh shit, I didn’t know that,” I said. “Well, whattaya think dude?”

“Well, we could take a taxi back,” my buddy replied, “or, I do see an Irish bar down the block…”

It was my bitch lover – she was calling me back to her.

“Oh man,” I laughed, “that sounds fuckin’ sweet!”

“Wait,” Miho shook my attention back over to her and then looked me right in the eyes, “you’re going to stay out and keep drinking?”

“Yeah, I think that’s probably our best option,” I replied. “To just stay out drinking until the trains resume running in the morning because taxis seem quite expensive in Tokyo, ya know?”

What? Really? Are you serious?”

“Yeah,” I shrugged. “Why not?”

“Okay,” she sighed as she loosened her hug and the twinkle in her eyes instantly vanished. “Well, have a good night, I guess.”

Never saw Miho again.

As the story goes, Tim and I stayed out drinking all fuckin’ night. I’m overall pretty hazy on the details but I remember meeting an Ethiopian girl on the street who invited us to some bizarre party in an apartment where all the windows were blacked out and a weird crowd of druggy fucks had been dancing to techno in the flash of strobe lighting. And I vaguely remember Tim telling me he wanted us to get the fuck outta there sometime around six in the morning.

As I said, my memory after saying goodbye to Miho is off and on. The last thing I can clearly recall is getting off the train and staggering behind Tim at the Minowa subway station near our hostel. Before the doors had even closed behind me, I remember hearing my bitch lover whispering lies into my ear. She told me to look back at the train and into one of the cars that I hadn’t been on.

“That Japanese businessman there,” she said, “he wants to destroy you. You must go after him! Go! Go now!”

As I ran at the train to confront the man, the doors came to a close. Nevertheless, I ran up to the window across from where he sat, started pounding on it to get his attention and, once I had it, gave him an evil stare as I started shouting a barrage of obscenities. He glanced up from his mobile phone, looked back down and did a double take. He looked very surprised to see me foaming at the mouth and pointing, ready to tear his head off from the other side of the glass.

“Go after him!” she said as the train started to pull out of the station. “Don’t let him get away!”

Never surrendering eye contact with the man, I started trotting while continuing to yell and point. Seconds later, after the train had begun to gain momentum, I was running full-speed after the man who looked back at me in a state of shock. Then, all of a sudden, I felt my skull get crunched, my vision went black and, next thing you know, I’d been laying on the ground with blood trickling down my forehead. Since I hadn’t been paying attention to the path on which I’d been running, I hadn’t seen the massive, round, concrete pillar which laid me out on my ass. I imagine that Japanese businessman had quite the story to tell all his coworkers when he got into the office that day.

I’m aware the last thing you’re supposed to do with a potentially serious head injury is go to sleep but I was just too drunk to give a shit. I went to bed and woke up at 10pm that night with the worst headache I’ve ever had – the epicenter of which had been a baseball-sized welt protruding from just above my eyes with dried-up blood crusted over it. The combination of the booze withdrawal and the sad empty feeling of having chosen to continue my cruel love affair instead of starting a new one with a cute little Japanese girl was overwhelmingly depressing. It wasn’t at all how I’d wanted to start my much-anticipated trip to Asia.