Cross your fingers and hope he changes the sheets afterwards. Days later, lying in bed half-asleep after we had sex for the first time, I tentatively probed for the first hint of where the whole thing was going. I’m several-nights strawberry, or at least, until my box runs out of strawberries.I’m not entirely sure when and how that could happen. For a while, I thought it might be because he didn’t want to be rude, but I’ve told him countless of times that it’s perfectly okay if he took the calls.
I always thought only 12-year-old girls drank strawberry milkshakes. (Yes, I used to do that, shoot me.) It’s hard to ignore the mobile phone, however, when it’s sitting right in front of you. He won’t pick up calls from Aof or Apple, both probably Thai girls, judging from the frequency of the phone calls. They’d call about 15 times and send angry and almost incoherent messages in between.Mental note: I must try to bring up the strawberry discussion while he’s sipping his milkshake. He has one of those fancy phones that’s also some sort of GPS navigation device, so he puts it on a nifty little holder on the dashboard, right where it can’t escape my 20/20 vision no matter how hard I try. I pretend not to notice, and it’s amusing because he actually believes it. Still on the subject of the prominently displayed mobile phone on the dashboard.I once brought it up out of nowhere and he visibly panicked. As fancy as it was, the GPS navigation thing once conked out in the middle of a long drive.He then told me the sad story about Apple, a Thai one night strawberry who he claims to have repeatedly told to go away. He cursed, restarted the offending gadget, and there in its full glory was his wallpaper literally at me – a picture of a wide open vagina up close. Being a semi-normal single girl, I did spend the requisite few minutes thinking of the possibilities – in this case, a hell of a lot longer than my usual 5 minutes.This guy is so amazingly likeable that I permitted myself a full hour and a half of inane daydreaming.
Thankfully, my jaded and slightly cynical self intervened before I started thinking of white lace, table centerpieces, and carnations. I could usually tell within 5 minutes what a man wants from me, but this one was particularly tricky.The man in question is sweet, smart, attentive, funny, and seems to be made of the same stuff that good boyfriends are often made of.Manifestations of the horny male caveman genome were not immediately evident. Though it’s not my personal preference, I have nothing against house or techno music, or anybody who likes them, for that matter.After three dinners and much scrutiny, however, I was able to discover that my promising new find might not be as promising as he seemed. It is my experience, however, that men who like them are usually up to no good. We went to the night market in Lumphini Park on our first date.This is an account of my findings, not necessarily in order of severity. The man is obviously a party animal, or a clubber, or whatever it is they call people who frequent clubs nowadays. I was laughing at the outrageous t-shirt prints when he suggested I look for a t-shirt that says literally translates to that.(Damn, I’m getting old.) This kind of man, or otherwise, deliberately puts himself in close proximity to drunk, scantily clad, gyrating women on a regular basis, and this being Bangkok, he will, more often than not, take one home with him. To give him a little credit though, at least he’s not lying when he says he’s going to bed. I heard the first of many warning bells in my head but I decided to file that information away for future reference. The closest I could come up with was that I’m no one-night strawberry.