10. #2
“Okay, so let me ask you this,” Thalia says. “When you would have your little coffee dates—“
“Lessons.”
“Whatever. Would she dress like she was going to work, or would she dress cute?”
I see where she’s going with this. I think about this morning—the pale yellow dress, the knot at the hip, the extra eye makeup—and it’s hard to argue.
I think about the other sessions too, the tops that showed off her shoulders, the short skirts, the jewelry she’d put on even at nine in the morning when there was no reason to unless you count sitting across a small table from a man as a reason.
You could say she was just dressing for the climate.
Lots of tutors wear outfits hot enough to melt glass. That’s a thing, right?
“She’s Thai,” I say. “Girls in Thailand show more skin.”
She gives me a look.
“They do! It’s a hot climate!”
“Okay, maybe they do,” she says. “I’m just saying, as a woman—we think about what we’re going to wear when spending one-on-one time with a guy in any context.
If the signal she sent wasn’t, this is professional and you need to respect my personal boundaries, then it probably means that she was attracted to you.
Believe me. We spend a lot of effort getting men to take us seriously.
We don’t let go of that easily. At bare minimum, she thinks you’re cute. ”
“You think?”
I had suspected as much myself, but hearing it from someone else—and a woman to boot—carries some weight.
“Well, it doesn’t matter anyway,” I say. “Because I was too dense to realize it in time and now I’ve missed my chance because she’s moving away. Besides, I have you.”
“I don’t think that door is closed forever,” she says.
“What are you talking about?”
“Now she knows that you’re the kind of sweet, compassionate man who would help her out when she needs it.
She told you that she had to stop seeing you, and you told her you didn’t want to.
That means something. If she was trying to figure out if you were interested in her, she’s just got her answer. ”
“Yeah, but she’s moving,” I say. “And I have a girlfriend who I spent half an hour telling her about.”
“Come on, are you serious?”
“What?”
“You spend all day writing books about guys who acquire women by the dozen,” she says. “You really don’t have enough imagination to picture yourself with both of us at once?”
This is definitely not the direction I expected this conversation to take.
“Could I imagine it? Yeah, obviously I could picture it,” I say. Am I allowed to picture it is the question. The answer my girlfriend seems to be giving me is yes. “But I write fantasy stories. And Meena is not a goblin girl.”
“Exactly, she’s a beautiful, intelligent and exotic woman who is already giving you every indication that she wants to get closer to you.”
“What about you?” I ask. “What do you want?”
“Honestly, I’ve been thinking about it a lot, and the idea of you being with another woman is kinda hot.”
I have no reason to doubt what my ears are hearing right now, except for the fact that stuff like this doesn’t happen in real life. Fantasy settings where the guy is a super powerful mage, sure. But in the real world? I pick up my coffee and put it back down without drinking from it.
“You’re serious?” I say. “You’re not just teasing the guy who writes haremlit, trying to trick me into admitting I want to have more than one girl?”
“What trick? I’m telling you how I feel,” she says. “Since you asked, that’s my answer.”
What do I do with this? I can see the possibilities, but I have to slow down first.
“Thank you for sharing your feelings,” I say. “Can I just ask a few questions to make sure I understand what we’re talking about here?”
“Go ahead.”
“When you say me being with another woman, do you mean me being with a girl while you’re watching, or me being in a relationship with another woman while I’m dating you?”
“Yes.”
Alright, I’m not going to lie. I’m feeling pressure in my slacks right now. This is going in a very fascinating direction and I can see that she’s amused at the effect she’s having on me. She takes a long slow sip of her iced coffee and watches me over the rim.
“That’s sexy? The idea of me sleeping with other women is hot?”
“Well, you can’t just go off and fuck anyone you want,” she says. “That’s not okay. Kinda hot, I mean the thought that you’re wild and untamed does get me kinda wet, not gonna lie—“
Goddamn, are you hearing this?
“—but that’s really more of a fantasy. In real life, there’s diseases, there’s hurt feelings and too many ways for it to get messy.”
“Right,” I say. “I get that.”
“That’s why, I would need you to be open with me about it first. That way we can enjoy ourselves while still being safe and respecting everyone involved.”
My heart is thumping fast but it’s having to compete with another part of my body for blood flow.
“And do you… would you want the same thing?” I ask, feeling my mouth going dry even before the words leave it.
“No way,” she says. “I want the idea of me with another guy to make you so mad that it would make you want to kill him. Preferably with your bare hands, with your shirt off.”
She smiles dreamily, adjusting the way she’s sitting just a little.
“Okay, so just so we’re totally clear—you’re saying that hypothetically I can have multiple women, but that you don’t want to be with anyone else and would prefer that I kill another man than give up exclusive access to your body.”
“No,” she says. “There’s nothing hypothetical about it. That’s what I want.”
“You’re saying you want me to get another girlfriend?”
“You could have a boyfriend too,” she says. “Do you want a boyfriend?”
“No.”
“Okay, then,” she says. “Fine by me. If you did, that would be sexy. But I like that you’re all man. That’s hot too.”
I feel like I have to bite my lip or something. Is this really the conversation I’m having right now? Out here on this porch, iced coffees sweating in the heat, the pool going dark in the fading light?
“Well, that sounds… really good,” I say finally. “I’m glad we communicated about this.”
“Me too,” she says. “I know we’re not making long-term plans, for obvious reasons, but this is something I thought was worth mention because it’s probably not what you were expecting your holiday girlfriend to say.”
Just hearing her refer to herself as my holiday girlfriend has pretty much the opposite effect that her earlier words had on, well, the situation down south.
It’s not just my cock that feels suddenly thrown into uncertainty.
My heart is involved too. I feel like I have to say something, but there’s the risk that it might get heavy.
“I also really want to say that I like you,” I say. “A lot.”
She doesn’t say anything to that. Just smiles like she understands exactly what my silly middle-schooler confession really means. The weight of it that I would rather not name.
“I’ll come back to Thailand,” she says, which is better than admitting that she has to leave.
“I know,” I say. “Just the idea that we don’t have all the time that we want– it just feels natural to make plans with you. That’s all.”
She sighs and it’s the kind of sigh that you can hear holds some crying in it, but not yet.
“Let’s make a plan for tomorrow,” she says. “But not the day after. Let’s decide how we’re going to spend some of our days and then just let others take care of themselves, okay?”
“Okay,” I say. “I’ve got a plan for tomorrow. Coffee in the trees, zipline and monkeys.”
“More monkeys?”
“Can’t ever get enough monkeys,” I say. “Plus the coffee at the cafe is really nice.”
“Okay, sounds good,” she says. “I also want to get my hair braided.”
“Cool,” I say. “I see lots of little salons in Patong. We can stop by and get it done on the way over.”
She covers her mouth as she smiles, amused by my manly ignorance.
“It’s not like a haircut, Michael,” she says. “It takes like four hours.”
“Four hours?! How can you sit for four hours while someone tugs on your hair?”
She scoffs.
“Such a guy,” she says. “Women will endure a lot for our hair. Besides, we can do it on the beach. That way you can have a beer or whatever. Or I could go and you could just stay home and I’ll do it while you’re working so you’re not waiting around.”
“That makes sense,” I say. “But I want to spend all the time with you I can.”
“Hey, no bad vibes, remember?”
“What bad vibes?” I say. “I’m just saying I want to be with you.”
“You know what I mean.”
“Okay, we’ll go to Kamala Beach in the afternoon. If I get bored, I’ll go home. But first, monkeys, deal?”
“Deal.”
The conversation shifts topics, we make plans for dinner (pizza!) and what we’ll do with the rest of our evening (sex!) but I don’t forget about what Thalia has shared with me.
She wants to see be with other women– and her– at the same time.
That wasn’t something I remotely considered possible this morning.
I’ve been in a relationship with two women at once, so I know it’s possible and pleasurable.
The difference is, with Olavia, and yes I’ll start calling them that from now on, I was the one who came into a relationship that was already formed.
She’s talking about forming one. But for how long?
Even if we’ve agreed not to talk about it, I can’t stop myself from thinking about it.
Meena is leaving, so there’s no good opportunity for us to hook up even if Thalia is right and there’s some mutual attraction there.
Then soon Thalia will be leaving. Even if we somehow made it happen, how’s it going to feel when it’s over?
Probably the same as my last failed relationship.
The more I think about it, the more I’m not sure that I even want both of them at the same time.
Yes, I know. It sounds insane when I say it like that.
Almost blasphemous. But I better than most guys that losing two women you’re desperately in love with really does hurt twice as much.
When it ends, will I be able to move on or just get stuck in the past?
Champagne problems these may be. But champagne problems are still problems.