18 would be an age where most boys would have two things in their head; girls and booze. If a girl is missing in their lives, they would turn to mighty old brothels. I escorted nine of my friends to a brothel and I ended up sitting in the whores’ make up room. I was a bit intimidated at first but before you know it, those whores were great people to talk to. I was impressed.
Through virtual media, I came across knowing this one dude in particular today. Being a bit down without BooMan’s presence, I got to the point where I would chat with anyone online and given my supervisor took a sick leave, I was left with no choice but to talk with a couple of people who happened to be online. One was actually an escort, BY CHOICE. Claimed to be his passion, a conversation about where he got his tattoo turned out to be a warm and comfortable appreciation between a gay escort and me. I find it quite shocking how most of us in society have been a bit cruel on these people.
I told MrEscort that I used to be raised in a spoilt environment and I used to be disgusted by prostitutes or any individuals who treat themselves as a one-stop pleasure shop. It’s one of those ‘you have no idea where your dick has been’ syndrome. After the conversation with the whores at 18 and after reading the blog of a showgirl, I began to learn that these people are the cleanest and most taken care of people in life. Being appreciated to be naked in front of several clients, escorts, prostitutes or whores are way more maintained organisms than most of us; well, to be fair there are others who are just dinghy.
Conversation with MrEscort was just awesome and I began to appreciate his honesty. It would be great to have a PROPER good gay friends in Myanmar, given I think the ones I have at the moment are just fuelled up by love or finding themselves in their lives. MrEscort, however, not to mention his bounce-backable English, seems one of those people who just love what they are doing. After several back to back appreciation, we decided to keep in touch.
After work, I decided to meet up with BombGirl, my friend since 10th grade. I was a bit scared and nervous to meet her since I knew something was up with her. I could sense something really wrong and hearing news about her daughter being born blind and all that, I was a bit concerned about what to say and what NOT to say. 13 years later, there we were, BombGirl and me at 50 street, just conversing about life in general.
The chat was surprisingly great. Both of us had gone through so much. She shared a lot of stories, to which I promised would just get out of my other ears after I go home. I guess the only thing I could mention on blog is the fact that she’s the mother of a son and a daughter, diagnosed with cancer and who has a fake left eye, who had come back to Myanmar to help her family out. It was also amazing how she seems so chilled about things. We exchanged stories and we leaned back and laughed at our mishaps. She kept going on about how I’ve grown up so much, appreciating my theories and philosophized opinions. All I remember was leaving 50 street with such an honor to have hung out with such a brave girl and a strong woman that she has evolved into.
It’s funny, right? You got me, a fat high school loser, who (she claimed) has mature and grown up positively and then you got her, a girl who would come to tuition classes and cry for no reason (yeah we never found out), who (I totally feel) has morphed into this strong brave woman with a family.
13 years later, we know of our evolution.
Through virtual media, I came across knowing this one dude in particular today. Being a bit down without BooMan’s presence, I got to the point where I would chat with anyone online and given my supervisor took a sick leave, I was left with no choice but to talk with a couple of people who happened to be online. One was actually an escort, BY CHOICE. Claimed to be his passion, a conversation about where he got his tattoo turned out to be a warm and comfortable appreciation between a gay escort and me. I find it quite shocking how most of us in society have been a bit cruel on these people.
I told MrEscort that I used to be raised in a spoilt environment and I used to be disgusted by prostitutes or any individuals who treat themselves as a one-stop pleasure shop. It’s one of those ‘you have no idea where your dick has been’ syndrome. After the conversation with the whores at 18 and after reading the blog of a showgirl, I began to learn that these people are the cleanest and most taken care of people in life. Being appreciated to be naked in front of several clients, escorts, prostitutes or whores are way more maintained organisms than most of us; well, to be fair there are others who are just dinghy.
Conversation with MrEscort was just awesome and I began to appreciate his honesty. It would be great to have a PROPER good gay friends in Myanmar, given I think the ones I have at the moment are just fuelled up by love or finding themselves in their lives. MrEscort, however, not to mention his bounce-backable English, seems one of those people who just love what they are doing. After several back to back appreciation, we decided to keep in touch.
After work, I decided to meet up with BombGirl, my friend since 10th grade. I was a bit scared and nervous to meet her since I knew something was up with her. I could sense something really wrong and hearing news about her daughter being born blind and all that, I was a bit concerned about what to say and what NOT to say. 13 years later, there we were, BombGirl and me at 50 street, just conversing about life in general.
The chat was surprisingly great. Both of us had gone through so much. She shared a lot of stories, to which I promised would just get out of my other ears after I go home. I guess the only thing I could mention on blog is the fact that she’s the mother of a son and a daughter, diagnosed with cancer and who has a fake left eye, who had come back to Myanmar to help her family out. It was also amazing how she seems so chilled about things. We exchanged stories and we leaned back and laughed at our mishaps. She kept going on about how I’ve grown up so much, appreciating my theories and philosophized opinions. All I remember was leaving 50 street with such an honor to have hung out with such a brave girl and a strong woman that she has evolved into.
It’s funny, right? You got me, a fat high school loser, who (she claimed) has mature and grown up positively and then you got her, a girl who would come to tuition classes and cry for no reason (yeah we never found out), who (I totally feel) has morphed into this strong brave woman with a family.
13 years later, we know of our evolution.
Listening to: Marques Houston - Circles
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