even the nice ones are like that
[QUOTE=ProfDesigner]If they are in a bar they are after your money... Even the little one I am with now although she swear undying love is starting to get phonecalls and messages from other bule that she has met in the day while I work. My best advise that I can ever offer on this forum is to come here treat them with respect but dont think that they will ever be faithful to you for the minute a better prospect appears they will consider it.[/QUOTE]
my current (and probably soon-to-be-ex) i met at a local university, nice girl, good family, seemed quite predisposed to be faithful... but now i'm beginning to see the signs of possible unfaithfulness. broken dates, dropped hints, finally cluminating in her giving her email addy to an indian navy guy (of all people!) right in front of me. claimed it was all innocent, and given the circumstances she could have just as easily done it behind my back, so i mostly think she was trying to make me jealous... but even all but the sluttiest western women would stop short of handing out contact details in front of my face just for a jealously ploy! needless to say i'm furious with the gf, havent spoken to her in a week, and i'm fairly convinced our rather long relationship is hopelessly and permanently derailed.
my point?
a) i actually think it's not just the bar girls - i've come to feel that pretty much all indo girls are just sluttier than most seasian women. sort of a south-sea-island, margeret-mead-discovering-a-general-lack-of-sexual-mores, to-the-point-of-genetic-immunity-to-syphillis kind of thing that theres no avoiding. i may have said this before.
(though to be fair, my uni girl is only 21, nearly half my age, not the stablest of ages for a serious relationship in any country.) anyway my other point is:
b) i may be entering the (meat) market soon, and will have a bit more free time on my hands than before. maybe it's time i finally got together for a beer or 3 with some of my fellow isg'ers? 1ball i promise i wont hit on your girlfriend, it's not my style ;) and prof, you sound like a player and a half, maybe you could pass on some of your better contacts to a fellow long termer?
first rounds on me.
Fao Spice Lover, Puzzo and Hanqe
Thanks for your replies guys. I'll try a report when I get back.
Want GFE? Then try giving her BFE.
[QUOTE=Sidhartha]I am not sure it is fair to label Indonesian women as being fickle and completely unfaithful..[/QUOTE]I'm with Sidhartha. The girls here in Bali are no more, nor less, trustworthy than girls anywhere else in the world.
A girl trolling in a singles bar whether in Detroit, Dublin, Düsseldorf or Denpasar is going to have certain characteristics and why mongers should be surprised about this I can't imagine.
Aren't these girls just the female equivalent of us?
How about a reality check guys?
Just how great a catch are we?
Judging by the photos I see posted, many of us are elderly, flabby, and probably stink of booze and stale sweat.
We think GFE is the ultimate but we're absolutely lousy boyfriends. We treat women as pieces of meat, we're insecure, possessive and jealous, and we try our hardest to pay the absolute minimum to get our sexual fantasies fulfilled.
So why are we surprised when these girls start looking after their own interests?
Who wouldn't want younger, sexier, richer, cleaner, kinder, funnier, friendlier, better adjusted?
Take a look in the mirror, fellers. All many of us have got going for us is the width of our wallets.
And as to Indonesian girls giving out and getting phone numbers and email addresses, it's a completely innocent and commonplace thing among Indonesians of all ages and both sexes. It doesn't necessarily mean they are sexually interested in the other person.
If you're jealous, then you're insecure, so take a look at yourself, not her.
The G the F and the E (This is why men monger)
Yes I am back. In the thick of it. A few days of intense GFE with the former is darkening by the day. She still has power over me, the *****. A quickie in Sanur took the edge off but I seem to have spent close to a week working out how not to get married. The promises spit from my lips in inverse proportion to the cum from my cock.
Man. What a night. Y is at home watching indo soap for most of the afternoon while I gad about on the scooter-sorting massages and doing net stuff. I go to pick her up late for some dinner after she hassles me to come over by phone then when I get there she is not hungry so I take off and get my own feed. All is perfectly civilized. Then I drop back at hers after dinner with a big storm brewing (literally, figuratively. Climatically) and tropical rain close at hand. She grabs her stuff and we high tail it back to Tigger central.
She is on the couch and within 5 minutes is complaining about one of her countless ailments and saying she doesn't feel good about the place. In her room she is always happy, she says. Then she says maybe it is a ghost and we have an argument over the presence or otherwise of a ghost. The only ghost to haunt my little bungalow is the ghost of my unfullfilled cock. This is a little tricky in translation. Either way I tell her straight that I am sick of her complaining. She has had serious pmt for most of the time I have been here (a single roll in the hay) and I have had enough.
. "Get your stuff and I'll take you back to your place".
She reluctantly concedes to this but then says she is worried about me and the ghost. Will I be ok? Etc. I point out that I am all grown up as an independent 35 year old Australian man. In the back of my mind plan B is taking shape.
I drop her off at about one am, dash home, get changed then hightail it to the clubs looking to exorcise that minor supernatural problem of mine through an ancient oz technique-the thrusting of the loin.
En route to the clubs I am pulled over by the cops sans licence going the wrong way up a one way street. They give me the spiel about the big trouble I am in and shake their heads-wearing the mirror shades at 1. 15am. Laden with menace.
"Yes boss...my licence is back in the room"
"U muss to carry the license"
"I am sorry boss...I forget it..."
"You must come to court in Denpasar"
"He circles the bike like an unfed shark"
"No boss its. ok...how much?"
"Shaking head...this very expensive Sir...100000"
Me. Mock outrage. I slip him fifty with a roll of the eyes and he waves me on with the baton and. Dips his lid on the way through Corruption is a beautiful thing.
I am in Bounty bar a few minutes later; scoping the floor for lovelies. A shocking old boiler picks me out, comes over and starts making polite conversation so I get up and leave. Impolitely. I head upstairs to Bounty ship; repository of aussie boardshort scum. I am there 30 seconds before a get a big pinch on the ass and turn to a familiar face. Who is she?
Thats it. My first night 'conquest' from the last trip. Memorable for mid thrust price negotiations-sweet face. A little drug addled. Eminently fuckable. She wants me to go back to her place to show her how to do the internet. Her boyfriend who she will marry on his return in 6 months has bought her a laptop and I must show her how to use it. At 2 am in the morning. I smell a rat but her thighs are clasped around mine, her eyes, big wide and brown; heavy with promise. It's not that I am choosing to do this. It is that I can't choose not to.
We board the little red tardis and dash back to her place, minutes away. I am shocked to discover that the story checks out perfectly. Just her in skimpy shorts in her little room and the spanking new Acer laptop. She shows me a few pics and I try to explain some internet stuff. She is one of the dumbest women I have ever met. Too much ecstacy and a 3rd grade education will do that to a girl. Her German boyfriend is sending her 8 million rupiah a month to keep her away from guys like me. She just laughs it off.
I come up with a plan. We are going back to my joint. I will show her how to use the internet and she will show me how to part her thighs and bury my face between her breasts. I will also give her 100000 as a token show of respect and affection; a good deal all round. We dash through the backstreets of Legian in teeming rain at 3 am; avoiding cops and scabrous dogs in equal measure; arrive at my joint 15 minutes later. Thoughtfully Y has taken her assembalge of lingerie, heels and sanitary napkins back to her place which means my pitch as a lonesome and weary traveller cuts true mustard.
We are quickly undressed and in the bed but her behaviour is starting to spin me out. In a baby voice I have become papa. Sometimes mama. She curls up foetully and coos. (if thats a word it's not spelt like this). I start to kiss her in consolation but then move to her tits, a development which cannot be construed as consolation. Then she goes on in her baby voice about trouble in her belly and that she cannot fuck with me.
I thought we had a contract. A plan. An agreement but instead we have another evening staring at the ceiling while the end of my cock pokes imaginary holes in it- she snoring peacefully and cuddling lovingly. More. 'what the fuck? . Is there no end to this?
I wake early and she reluctantly. Telling her I have to get up and work after my last ditched effort at getting her in the lovezone hits the Balinese wall. We dress quickly and I charge back to her place, laptops slung over our shoulders. What about the internet? "I'll call you! " ". And the 100000? "
I leave her with this thought hanging in a langorous cloud of four stroke fumes. 4 more strokes than I have managed in the last 24 hours. Everything and yet nothing is lost in translation.