"where can i get a jock strap"?

I once dated a dude named Fred who not only managed a “sporting gear store” at the tender age of 31 but also “wowed” his parents by never obtaining a drivers license or high school diploma.  Considering that during my junior year in college I notably had no standards, I WAS OBVIOUSLLY MADLLY IN LOVE!  I had rose colored fantasies of ironing his polo work shirts for what I assumed would be the remainder of our happy blue collar lives together. Not that the relationship was perfect, my mom was seconds away from attacking him with a frying pan, and he was beginning to take me on dates to the “dollar movies”.  Needless to say, he was walking on very thin ice, and I was getting worried that my dream wedding reception catering trash can punch and a real live “Lynard Skynard” cover band was never going to come to fruition. 

It is literally impossible to get on my mothers bad- side.  This is a woman, who upon entering her household will immediately drill you on your preferences in homemade cookies.  Let’s just say, that in my teens it was routine to come home to find my mom holding court, apron in tow with no fewer that 6 stoner boys putting major dents  in my food cupboards. I would trip over their skateboards that were scattered across our hardwood floors, and glare into the potheads bloodshot eyes as my mom would naively snicker, “Lizzzybits, those boys sure do have a hearty appetite!!!”  So naturally, I figured that when my mom shook hands with my beau, she would surely win him over with her effortless charisma.  What I did not expect, was for him to belittle her while playing the most intense game of “nostril flaring/devils advocate” that I have ever seen.   Not a moment after shaking hands, Fred began verbally accosting any small talk my mom would bring to the table.   I finally hit a wall when he questioned the legitimacy of her stance that while she visited France as a little girl she found the people to be lacking in the hygiene department. When she quoted the known stereotype that the “French stink”, Ryan blew his top.   “I am not sure what area of France you were visiting,” he snickered “But the country of France is very high brow”.

 This was coming from a guy who lived with his meth head Uncle Ron.  THis was a man who took pride in frantically brushing his wiener dog and wearing ankle high Ugg boots in the middle of summer!!  It’s like, hello; do you really want to play the “what’s cooking in your bathtub game”?  Sure, he wasn’t living “via double wide” just yet, but his residence definitely did not come with a butler and live in masseuse.  I think it is hilarious when someone who is sitting on the brinks of “government funding” acts refined and sophisticated. I don’t give a rat’s ass if your dining table has the finest Tupperware in town; there is absolutely no excuse to put someone down before they have given you good reason. 

   Against my better judgment I decided that I would try to introduce him to my best girlfriend in the world. My friend Ashley has always been like toilet paper, soft, comforting and useful.  Surely there was no way they wouldn’t hit it off.  I had arranged for a heavy night of drinking, with the hidden agenda of possibly persuading her to also start a serious relationship with one of his “maintenance man” friends.   I’d seen Ashley’s eyes dance over Marshal Mather’s character in “8 mile”, so I knew for a fact that the stars were in line for our planned rendezvous.  It was obvious to me that she was yearning for a bad boy who could not only rap, but who also looked breathtaking in “fruit of the looms” wife beaters and I was over the moon with the knowledge  that a double wedding was in our futures.   

Our plan was to hit up some bar that was having special drink promotions in a kinda shady part of town.  I proceeded to pick up my partner in crime, and bit my tongue as I noticed she was lugging one of her many Louis Vuitton bags that mismatched perfectly with her black slacks and purple silk top.  I had neglected to mention the location where we were headed to meet her new sweetheart, and was nervous maybe she wouldn’t fit in, considering that she wasn’t rocking black rooted bleached hair or discounted clothes. 

  At first, everything seemed to be running smoothly and my amazing besty even complimented my  boyfriend’s piercing blue eyes.  Ashley however, wears her emotions on her sleeve after a few drinks.  It is a normalcy for her to have two glasses of red wine and sneer at your hair as if it was giving off a repugnant odor, only to move slowly away from you while shaking her head in dismay.  So, as the night progressed and the drinks kept flowing, she became more and more disturbed with our current surroundings.

 “Liz, did you hear the great news, they are having great deals tonight and  for the mere price of $10 you can consume as much of their natty light draft beer as your little heart desires!” she scoffed.

 “Ashley, lock it up, I’m not in the mood".

“ Is this really your future Liz?” Ashley reprimanded, " You have real gumption thinking I am going to take one for the team, and actually talk to any of your boyfriend’s friends. Ya, like maybe I’ll be as lucky as you and find me a man who will wine and dine me via brown bag special down by a quarry”!…. OMG…do they have a jukebox??…they do!!!” she squealed and stammered away.

 I watched Ashley put her beer down, and lean suggestively against the glass of the jukebox as an older gentleman with missing teeth and a scruffy face looked her up and down in prominent approval.  My boyfriend approached, reeking of beer and Marlboro cigarettes asking if he could borrow a few dollars to get himself some shots of POPOV VODCA.  It is my belief that you can judge someone’s social status by the pedigree of cigarettes they smoke.  As an example, I associate Marlboro cigarettes with cock fighting, Nascar, and Bixby, Oklahoma; whereas I connect Parliament lights with cocaine and eating disorders. I believe that if these companies were to ever embrace their true nature and begin to advertise their products using these well known  stereotypes, sales would go sky high!   As he exhaled smoke right onto my face, I obediently procedded to dig out a ten spot from my clutch purse. Suddenly, I saw the light.  In that moment I knew we needed to end this laughable charade; I could see the ridicule in my friend’s drunken lazy eye.  I had a reputation for dating persons under my caliber, and seemed to always feel to need to fix someone who would never change. “Look Fred, i’ve been thinking.  I don’t think this is working out for me.  You are a way nice guy, but I need to focus on me right now.  I’m sorry, and don’t worry about paying me back for the shots of vodka. They were well anyways.”  Holding my breath so as not to dry heave on the guy I had just dumped, I kissed him goodbye.

   Just then, I heard Ashley shriek with utter delight only to see her rocking melodically off beat to a track off of Madonna’s Erotica album with her eyes closed. “I don’t want to be your mother, and I don’t want to be your sister…I JUST WANT TO BE YOUR LOOOOOVVVVVVER!!!..

“AHHHHHHH, Liz, do you remember this song???,” she asked, pointing wide eyed to the jukebox as if this magical machine were responsible for all the happiness in the world.

 “We are so dancing right now!!!!!!, Let me just grab my natty, hold on, I’m coming over”.

 I watched in horror as Ashley began reprimanding the scruffy toothless wonder who was checking her out earlier.  All I could see from a distance, was her pointed index finger quickly moving to and fro like the hands on a compass.
 Ashley then strutted towards me with a look of indignation spread across her face.

“Umm Liz, we are bouncing, that man over there is defiantly homeless and he not only stole my beer but also asked me for $5”.

The ride home was a quiet one…………

racist granny

Granma Jo.  I am inseparably close with my grandmother, call her weekly and like to disillusion myself by assuming that I have held the top placement of best grandchild over the years.  I make sure to ask her tons of questions about my grandfather, who has set the standard impossibly high in terms of how the women of my family expect to be treated.  This is a man who on Valentines Day mowed and edged her backyard with “I LOVE JO LAYNE”.  She wears pearls while vacuuming the house alone and growing up always had pies or cookies in the oven.  That being said, she is also completely and hysterically racist.  Once, me and my sister went to her house for English toffee and conversation.  This is how she casually began, “Girls, a negro boy came by the house the other day”

“What?” we gasped, choking on our lemonades.

 “Yes, a negro boy came on by the house the other afternoon and wondered if I’d be so kind as to let him trim my bushes and water my plants.  After he was finished, I asked that Negro boy into the house for a coke a cola and we got to talking.  I had the most pleasant time with that young man; he didn’t speak any Ebonics or anything”. 

“Granma Jo,” my sister whined, “You can’t be calling black guys negro boys, you are lucky he didn’t shoot you or something, god.”

“Shoot me? Lauren he would never have shot me, you are the one being a racist!!  I just told you that he was eloquent with his words, and I‘ll have you know that I was feeding him complements and candy all afternoon.  Don’t be reading into the stereotypes girls, its not very ladylike.”

“Is she joking?” I asked my sister, rolling my eyes

“Whatever, its fine Granma, just for future reference don’t call them negro boys to their face, at least you didn’t tell him you were happy he didn’t speak Ebonics” I laughed

“OF COURSE I TOLD HIM!!!! I LOVED THAT HE DIDN’T SPEAK EBONIX; I WANTED TO PRAISE HIS VOCABULARY.  I also told him that he was the first Negro to be in my household, I bet you girls want to laugh at that too?  Clearly if I was a racist, I wouldn’t be inviting the coloreds into my house, would I?  You girls are just teasing your old Grandma, now stop it”

online dating

My pof embarrassment (and this will take a min, so pay attention).. I went to this quiet Thai place with a teacher, who I assumed was enriched with morals and personality 2 boot. Once we sat down, he legit ORDERS 3 SHOTS OF VODCA TO HAVE IN A ROW.. I said I wasn’t really in the mood for Russian bred booze, AND ASKED WHY  HE NEEDED 3 shots immediately, and not throughout the course of the meal. He said, "I am just so nervous".. So I watched him be both uncomfortable and wasted for about an hour.  My favorite part was when I was in the middle of telling a story and he interrupts me with, "I JUST LOVE TO LAUGH..I DO, IT IS TRUE, I LOVE TO LAUGH" (insert awkward eye contact)

So the check comes, and he stands up, comes over to my side of the table and sits down. He then proceeds to cup my kneecap, and say in a very sexy voice, “I think we have a reeeeeal chemistry, and if I were you Elizabeth, I would come over to my apartment..We will watch Mulholland (spelling?) drive, drink some really great wine and I have goat cheese",,

Ice Ice Baby

Late night karaoke in Oklahoma

I was infected with short man syndrome during my 6^th grade year when I measured in at 5’’1, the illness never left me and I haven’t grown a cm since.   I was devastated when it became apparent that although I was capable of reaching the height requirements for a roller coaster, I was never going to fulfill my dream of strutting down a runway alongside the  6’’0 Namibian women of Calvin Clien, (who at the age of 12 I so identified with).  In short (play on words), I have been angRY ever since and have developed a passive aggressive temper that would put Napoleon to shame.  The drawback to my condition is a short fuse and an ongoing reputation of being a verbal abuser.   Sometimes, I am proud of my temper and view it as an art form.  Taking pride in never cursing at my prey and smiling obnoxiously while I humiliate them leads me to believe that I accost with charm.  The scary thing about my attitude problem is that I truly relish back talk.  My hands start to quake when I realize how eloquently horrible I am being to someone who deserves it.  This sadistic practice can be blamed on my role model of a father who once advised when you know you have truly offended someone, and they begin to rant and rave hysterically at you ,that it is best to smile before patiently reaching over to stroke their hand and coo, “ “It seems like you are taking this subject very seriously sweetheart, and that  concerns me, ILL PRAY FOR YOU!””   

  
Incidentally, I talk a lot of head, but am horrified of getting in an actual fight.  If someone were to ever get tired of my shit and throw up fist a cuffs, I would more than likely hurl my body to the ground and curl into the fetal position screaming, “You can hit me ok??...JUST PLEASE, PLEASE DON’T TOUCH MY FAAAACE!!!!”

Cut to, I was recently at a karaoke bar in Oklahoma with a few of my old high school friends.  Riled by the troops and three jager bombs in a row, I was ready to bring down the house with my rendition of “killing me softly”.   I’m a pretty decent vocalist, I grew up in the church choir and am fluent in reading music notes.  Not to say I was every in the works of signing with Columbia records, but back in the day I was  known to star as lead roles in more than a few high school plays.   So after doing a tedious amount of vocal warm ups with my patient girlfriends in the bathroom, I proceeded to sing my heart out.  I knew that when I wiggled my fingers on the mike each time I went vibrato (circa early Christina Aguilera), that the night had been a huge success.    So I was utterly taken aback after my performance, when some obese black dude wearing a Mercedes symbol dangling from his chain confronted me with, “Hey, I heard your singing, and you ain’t all that girl!”  I slowly sized up Simon Cowl and decided to take the high road and not partake in his childish nonsense.  After all I was 26, I thought, this man is clearly dealing with some issues, Ill just say something soft so he will go away. ……..

“EXCUSE  ME SALAD DODGER???” , I asked.

 (At this point my best girlfriend Jessica, who is responsible for finishing what I always enevitablly start, was digging her nails under the table into my knees.)

“Huh?, the critic asked.

“.. It just appears to me, that you my dear are no stranger to a knife and fork’

 “Shit, well your are looking like a 12 year old boy, no titties mama, no titties..”- he sputtered, looking around to his friends for an obvious laugh or a supporting high five.

“That is probably because I don’t eat my feelings Jumbo.   Tell me, did your mother say you were the best kisser in the third grade?  I only ask because I am lost trying to figure out where all this anger towards women is coming from.  I was sitting her minding my own business, what compelled you to come over and be my choir instructor? And also, what are you even doing at this bar?’

“I ain’t got to have a reason to come to this joint, that’s on me”

“I’m not saying that I am not loving THAT  body, ALL OVER THIS BAR… But my question is, did you not see or understand the sign that reads “KAREOKE” (envision finger quotes) outside? Because clearly, you are pissed off that “karaoke” wasn’t slang for “all you can eat buffet”.… And p.s., I don’t see you up there singing a tune, from your arrogance I’m guessing that you are a real Louis Armstrong”. 

“Well all I AM saying is you ain’t shit”, he backfired

“Wow, the grammar, I love it”

“You acting all high and mighty, what you got baby girl?”

“Ill tell you what I don’t have cowboy, is a stellar watch like the one your “wowing”(envision air quotes) us with this evening. To be honest with you hun,  I can barely keep up with this conversation; I’m just so distracted by the 300 cubic circonias encircling that timepiece of yours.   I was just telling my friend over here how much I admire it.   Jessica, don’t you love it? “

“THESE ARE REAL,,,,REAL!!!!!!  You ain’t even know me boo boo, I’m Tyson.  I got two businesses baaaaayby!!!  You know Tyson car wash on 71rst? Well I’m Tyson bitch!”

“Look, I want to apologize Tyson,  I didn’t mean to insinuate that you were chubby or offend you.   I respect your curves and would be elated just for the chance to maybe motor boat you later?  You are a man with goals, and it is obvious that you know how to detail a car, so really I am the one who should be embarrassed, right?  Jessica, would you like to bear hug our new friend Tyson?  He owns a car wash, and I have a feeling that with a little  romantic courtship on your behalf Jess, you could become his trophy wife.  Tyson, should I start singing you two some Al Green to set the mood???”

He walked away cursing up a storm, and Jessica brought me a drink as I texted my father who typically thinks my immaturity is comical. His simple response was, “You are eventually going to get your teeth knocked in, and I’m not going to pay for it”. 

Right before we left I sang one last round of karaoke, I was seeking Tyson’s approval and as usual “couldn’t let it go”.   I approached the microphone, and jittery with nerves; I whispered slowly, “This one is for my dear friend Tyson, and his lovely lady lumps”.  As I ended the night belting out Vanilla Ice’s infamous “ice ice baby”, Jessica waited out front with her engine running, bored with my predictability. 

western women or sex tourists?

Hiding in the bush

 Hiding in the bush

I believe that doing drive-byes are a totally justifiable way of practicing my motor vehicle skills, snooping allows me to believe I'm part of the investigation unit on Law and Order and asking daunting questions are just a part of being proactive with expanding my vocabulary.  I'm a girl who found nothing wrong with hopping on the back of a motorbike taxi demanding to " follow that bike" through three neighborhoods with a hooded sweatshirt on, in order to see if my man was headed somewhere inappropriate, ( side note: he was, and I ended up splitting beers near the lake with the taxi driver who had curiously long pinky nails which he explained were for his cocaine addition).  The only other time I found a boyfriend cheating, involved me walking in on him and another lady in the loving act of doggie style, only to later chuck 32 eggs close range at both him and his whore screaming, " this is what you get motherfucker!!! "  As I said, I am shameless, jealous and untrusting.  To further explain why I am perpetually single, I was  utterly convinced that my most recent ex was cheating on me and on a Friday night two years ago.  After  7 large Chang beers, I was on the motherfucker (ala Nancy Drew) and planned to Get to the bottom of it/ bust some heads in.  

The morning of the incident started off fine, I was carefree and totally in love with a patient man who worshiped me and never would have strayed.   Then, my cramps came on with a fever I have yet experienced since.  We were stuck on an eight hour bus/ boat trip to koh phangyan, an island off the east coast of Thailand.  I was hunched over, sea sick and vomiting when my ex bought me beer as means to dull the pain, or at least make me forget how uncomfortable I was.  It worked like a charm, until I irrationally began thinking he was staring at other women .  Due to a period being every girls excuse to eat their feelings by use of chocolate, I chomped away at my snickers bar in between slugs off my beer, all the while glaring at him as he placed his arms securely around me.  In the  early stages of my intoxication, I  blurting out things like, " ooo, so your liking blondes now?" and " I'm sure your ex Susan didn't have as bad of pms as me huh?" as I hiccuped and proceeded to  swig off my 40 oz.

We exited the boat, and knowing we had an additional twenty minute drive to the other side of the island, I should have maybe grabbed a bottle  of water, but then again, this story wouldn't have happened would it?  I grabbed another large beer and like a lunatic put on my iPod to Alanis  Morresestes, " you outa know" as I aggressively pinched my beau while sitting the back of his motorbike.   When we got to our friends hotel, the girl my ex "must" have been cheating on me with was obviously going to be at the hotel waiting. I popped my knuckles and clenched my fists knowing that I was ready for some Jerry Springer action to go down!  

We arrived and he said something calm to me along the lines of, " baby what's wrong?", at which I slapped him and ran off into the jungle, infuriated about absolutely nothing.  My ex, didn't chase me, but instead went to probably smoke a joint to get the hell  away from me and my "passion" at his friends bar nearby.  From the bush that I went to pop a squat into, I could see him and a group of five friends chatting and having a ball.  My phone rang, disturbing my vantage point.

"Ashley,what is it?  I can't talk right now I'm in a bush"- I whispered

" Liz.? What do you mean your in a bush, and I'm calling you long distance!" 

" ya I know, he is waiting for her and I can see him, I'll call you back"

While I was busy trying not to blow my cover, my boyfriend had disappeared.  If I was sober and thinking logically, I would have assumed he had gone to the restroom, or I wouldn't have even been hiding in a bush stalking a perfectly innocent man.  But bloto Liz, was connecting the dots and I knew he must have crawled into "the whores awaiting bed" in one of the 8 bungalows nearby.  I scampered as wary as a  deer in hunting season, ducking behind trees with my shoes in hand in order to go unnoticed and stay quiet.  I crept up onto each of the balconies to check outside for his shoes that I assumed would be resting next to the pair of "fuck me heels" from the chick he was banging inside.  To no avail, I couldn't locate him, and hysterically texted my beau  " where the fuck are you?? I can't find you and I can't believe that you think I can just sleep on the beach, I don't have a room, you don't love me!!" Immediately,  I got a " lol, I looked for you in the bush you were hiding in earlier, ya we all saw you.  Come over here and I'll make you coffee Hun".

No sir, not into mother/daughter three ways in Cambodia, thanks

Holiday in Cambodia

 When I first started teaching in Thailand, my " translator" who was  promised to be present at all times, turned out to be a real disappointment.  Her knowledge of the English  language consisted  of " bat, rat, cat" and she  would only enter the classroom from the nearby hallway where the other Thai teachers sat playing connect four to beat the students with a wooden switch.    She would stomp in, whack a noisy child from my class with the ever present tree branch that she carried with her at all times, or worse make the kids rap their knuckles bloody red against the chalkboard as penance for forgetting the correct spelling of words like " umbrella".  On one occasion, I needed her assistance in breaking up a fight wherein the bully punched the runt of the class in the face.  My Thai translator  immediately ran in and in a foreign language commanded the children to get into a large circle.  Once the kids were in position, she brought both boys into the center, instructing the bully to clasp his hands behind his back while the runt was told to hit him twice directly in the face as punishment.  I took it then upon my self to learn the language in order to stop needing the assistance of the translator who I referred to as "Miss Joan Crawford".

 Because whores are always the only ones who speak impeccable English in any third world country,  I decided that everyday after work I would buy a coke from the neighboring brothel and ask how to translate English into Thai.  After jotting sentences down phonetically, I would write " how are you ?" on the board , drag a kid up to the front and tell him to write the translation underneath my writing in Thai.  So basically, after months of hearing kids chant basic sentences in both languages, the students now began greeting me each morning with assaulting questions like, "Teacher Elizabeth , do you like badminton, cake or elephants?"  I also became close with the majority  of hookers and lady boys in Krabi who now Refer to me as their " student". 

My first semester at fraternity "Asian rim job" with the ladies of the night, I got hit by a car on my motorbike.  This accident broke my wrist in three places, fractured my arm and left me in the most adorable hospital issued "hello kitty", arm sling you have ever beheld.   I was bed ridden for weeks and being Amy Whinehouse high on pain meeds, I couldn't be bothered to get out of my bunk to change the channel from the daily thai soaps.   Everyday i'de go to town with my dosage of tramedal, hoard pizza company down my trachea, staring mindlessly at the t.v. screen.  I began repeating the Thai that I watched on T.V. I found that women slapping untrustworthy men, begging forgiveness from family members and near death experiences involving acute illnesses  were useful in everyday conversation.  So in Thai, I can't for example list the months of the year, but can shout out,"Don't you worry about that piece of shit boyfriend of yours, he is a cheater and what we need to do bitch, is burn his house to the freaking ground before I die tommorow of syphilis ", with perfect diction. 

It should also be noted, that I am an extremely naive person who incidentally has phenomenal luck.  I've been known to hitchhike in Greece, will share drinks with orphans, and once snuck back onto my high schools campus by hopping on a moving fed ex delivery mans truck because our schools security guard was chasing me and I wasn't about to get detention for an off campus ciggerete. I trust anyone with a smile.  My parents always encourage this as a child.  A "Dad, no one at the jungle gym wants to play with me." was promptly solved by,"well sweetheart, go ask people until someone eventually says yes".   As it stands, to this day I get anxious if I'm sitting next to someone in any forum if we don't start a conversation.  If you are in a line to deposit a check,  I'm the obnoxious person in front of you asking about what type of coffee is inside of your Starbucks to go cup.   This personality trait has gained me so many wonderful memories that would have never happened had I not taken a leap of faith in humanity, however im always a bit paranoid of befriending Ed Geine on accident because " he sure had a nice smile, like Jesus right?"  

 I've had great luck at choosing morally enriched people to randomly befriend, except for that one time, I was almost gang banged/tag teamed by 6 cambodians in front of my mother.  For over a year,  I had been planning to go to Siam Reap to see Anchor Watt when my mother came to visit.  At the time I was living in Thailand, and considering that we only had some short amount of time to spend together, I basically attacked her at the airport with a list of daily itineraries that needed to be completed before any time was sanctioned for unnecessary "trivialities", like sleeping.  Prior to her arrival,  I faced a delima in regards to our transport to Cambodia.  I wanted to treat her to the flights , but teaching for the Thai government didn't really allow me to splurge on first class.   It saved me over 400$ to fly to Phenom Penn initially, figuring that I would rock into the first tour agency I stumbled upon and hire a night taxi for the 4 hour drive into Siam Reap.

For those who are unfamiliar with Cambodia's history or the little genocide courtesy of the tender hearted Pol Pot, please let me explain.  4 million people were brutally tortured and murdered in the name of communism and at the hands of the Khmer Rouge Army.  That's the state of Texas being wiped off the map, within only a few years.  The country now is not only desperately poor, but the land is thoroughly peppered with land mines that take lives and dismember people everyday.  In Cambodia,  if you meet anyone over the age of 45ish, you can rest assure that either their family was killing or they were the ones being murdered.  What I loved and still find so beautiful about Khmi culture is the message of forgiveness.   I find it unfathomable that a group of people who have been thoroughly exposed to such tragedy and betrayal are capable of burying the hatchet and redeveloping friendships within their society.  Considering that I still hold grudges from bitches in high school, Cambodia is refreshing in that the trials of my past seem insignificant, ignorant  and small in comparison. The country allows you to be grateful at their expense, and learn from their torrid history.  

So, we hop into this mans 1994 camary,  which happened to be the car I grew up driving and set off on our soon to be memorable  journey.  At first " Eddie " the driver seemed very chivalrous. whenever we asked to stop for a drink or to pull over to take a  picture of a temple enroute, he was more than happy to oblige and I naively trusted him without question.  " Eddie", was conversationally more fluent in Thai than English, and being the show off that I am, I rambled off my new language skills shamelessly in front of my mother who was seated in the back of the vehicle .  I digress, by stating that when I speak in Thai my voice raises about 9 octaves from my normal alto/ former smoker voice.  I imitate the famous Thai  soap stars, who squeak their language out like Mini Mouse would after inhaling nitrous oxide.   We drove on chatting, while I noticed Eddie continuously checking his cell phone and I honestly didn't think twice about it as he spoke to the caller in hushed Khmi tones. 

 All of the sudden, the car pulls over and my mother who was seated in the backseat snarled,  " why the hell is he getting out of the car?" Questioning our now nervous driver on ," why the fuck has the car stopped." we drive for for another 5 min down the desolate road. Eddie was still examining his phone when he stopped driving.  At this point, he switched his emergency lights on and we immediatly saw four motorbike lights snaking towards us.  In hindsight, I dont really remember seeing the five men get off the bikes or encircling the car, near the backseat.  I do however recall seeing one shirtless mans pot belly fully exposed as my mother reflexively screamed," No,,I'm the mother, no im the MOTHER,!" The events that followed do not even feel real, and I can only compare it to the one horrid car wreck I was ever involved in.  The exchange was under probably two min, but felt like it was going in both slow motion and taking an excruciatingly long time to get through. So as my mother continuously screamed out, my attention turned to Eddie.  I blindly found the automatic lock button  on the right side of my passager door and  placed my left hand firmly on Eddies thigh.  Leaning close,  I did what I do best.....I hit on him.  Like a stripper needing to make next days rent, I began contorting my body towards him tits first and proceeded to stroke his leg, smile demurely and mustered up all the Thai I had learned while I was laid out with that broken wrist.  I pulled out no stops as I complimented him, " on being a real man, Eddie you have a car, and that is rare in this country... I know you want to take care of me Eddie.  And I love your eyes, they're so..... brown"( insert knee squeeze).  Within what felt like 45 min of sweet talking, Eddie began to look at me and blush, turn to his friends, turn to my mom ..and  look back at me with confusion draped upon his face.  Realizing that we were at a Mexican standoff and not loving the visual of my mom preforming oral to a group of five men, I began to step my game up. My moms screaming not even penetrating my sudden assertiveness as she sat bewildered in the backseat surrounded by a gaggle of men between the ages of 30-60  staring into the car, she must have been confused hearing  her only daughter cooing an unknown dialect in a tone reserved for actors staring in 80's porn.     "Eddie,?.... Can you at least look at me, can you at least tell me if you think im pretty???"  Eddie at this point  turns to look at his friends for support, at which I grabbed his chin , bugging my big blue eyes out and looking as innocently in love as possible I asked again," Eddie, you dont think im pretty? Dont look at them Eddie, look at me. I like you and I dont want  to meet your friends today? I know you would never want to hurt me, and you just wanted me to meet them, but I only want to stay with you, so lets just go right now, and we can go get drunk tonight ?.. I have my own room, so if you want we can just drink there...ok?"

 I knew my powers of persuasion worked when Eddie asked,

" So tonight we go get a drink?" "

" "ugh, god yes and tomorrow I want you to show me Angkor watt , so let's just drive babe!"

 Finally the engine buzzed and we slowly rolled down the dark road, my hand still very much on Eddies knee.  As we drove, the sting of forcing my hot tears back was making my lower lip tremble and  I needed to lose my shit crying on a floor, in the fetal position very very  soon.   I had to keep my compusre not knowing if we were ten min away or two hours away from our desired destination .  My mother in her sweet southern voice reassured me from the backseat with, " baby, good job baby.. We will be fine, but you get that young mans phone and either throw it out of the window, or do something with it because his friends will start calling and you know about peer pressure".  So I begin reacting to Eddie much as I would to a serious boyfriend who had driven me too fast on a highway or got drunk and embarrassed me in front of my friends.  I began berating him with my arms crossed, "I can not believe you just did that to me Eddie, I thought we had such a nice day today, why did you want to scare me? In fact, I don't even know if I can trust you anymore, and I was wanting to invite you to my room to talk with me tonight..." Eddie was now thinking with his penis and desperately apologized as if I was Lorena  Bobbit and his cock was min away from being chopped off and thrown into a nearby yard.     His hands raised to his head in the prayer position as he furiously tapped his forehead chanting the mantra of, " no my darling, I would never want to scare you, I just wanted them to see you speak Thai".  My lower lip now in a full temper tantrum pout as I whined, " then give me your phone, because now I feel scared and all I wanted to do was trust you, now you have to prove to me that you can take care of me".  In submission, Eddie sheepishly handed the phone to me, his new master, as I quickly pressed the Nokia off button with my quaking pointer finger.

Once dropped off, we told security and ran to the room, visible shaken.  It would take days to kick the " what could have happened" out of our minds.  Now, it has become a crowd pleasing story, with me still not understanding why my autopilot reflex was not fight nor flight bUt flirt.