Goddamn tagalongs

With a screaming biological clock, and me not getting any younger, TokyoWife has decreed that my principal purpose of life is now a sperm donor. Readers are advised to note that this is not the subject of a Pitting; not should it be. Vigorous attempts at willful procreation is what millions of years of evolutionary pressure has instilled within our reptilian brain.

Summer is hell in Tokyo. Or rather, hell is Tokyo in the summer, and a jury may buy my defense that it was only the 700th time the deceased had said it’s not the heat, it’s the humidity. No motherfucker, it’s the heat and the humidity.

To escape the Tokyo August, we planned a quick retreat to the mountains of eastern Taiwan, and in a rare break from bad luck, the gods had smiled on us, and arranged the universe as such that her time of fertility would fall during the only week a vacation could be had.

The plan was surprisingly simple. We stay at a resort, wake up to room service and a morning romp, sleep again and romp again. Only after all new positions have been mastered would we venture forth as far as the pool, or more specifically to the bar in the pool, where Mai Tais would knock back the summer heat. Soak in the sun, drink oneself silly and retreat to the room for more duty time.

I would have no idea how long we had been here or when the six days was coming to an end. Days would run into nights, nights into days. Each day would vary not a whit in the search for the perfect wet: the pool, the bar and the bed.

Then tragedy struck. TokyoWife mentioned our plans to a dear friend, who invited herself and her husband along. A young beautiful Korean woman married to a Japanese chap; who knew what darkness hid within her heart? Cleverly, they came a day later and leave a day earlier, forcing us to hang around Taipei an extra day in the beginning and two in the end. If there is one place worse to be in August than Tokyo, it’s Taipei. Even hotter; even more humidity.

Suddenly six days of sex and sun were reduced to one hour in the pool and less procreative activity than normal weekends at home. Worse, the couple is completely gracious about everything, which makes me feel worse about resenting them.

But damn it, suddenly we are doing sightseeing. And having real conversations instead of endlessly variations of the same saccharine-sweet, gag-inducing expressions of boundless love and nauseatingly cute names, for which I would prefer to donate my entire 401k to the American Nazi Party than admit to participating in, let alone enjoy.

The only means of communicating with the surrounding world, my wife kicked into guide mode and went out of her way to ensure our guests’ good time. I love her hospitality, but selfishly wanted 100% of her for myself this week.

We’ve had a good time, and I’ve put on my happy face, but the other couple has figured out that I wasn’t completely with the picture. The last two days, they’ve been more proactive about getting out on their own, and paid for the Peking duck dinner to say thanks, so I can’t really blame them too much.

The Korean woman and my wife were graduate students together, and everyone in their group was used to doing everything together. Their trips abroad were on shoestring budgets and crammed from morning to night. I’ve been there, and done that as well, but now I want to relax and unwind.

I go back tomorrow while TokyoWife stays on to work. We chalked this one up to a lack of communication and will talk more in the planning phase next time.

Yeah, things like that happen and it’s hard to reconcile resentment for having your plans altered to your dislike and how you actually feel about the people. Sorry to hear that your plans were changed but at least your wife realizes that this was a problem for you and has committed to avoiding it in the future.

I’m sure someone can contribute a similar story with worse outcome?

Oh, people who tag-along. I thought we were talking about Filipinos. Really.


I usually just order eggs and bacon.

Yeah, life sucks sometimes.

Obviously you don’t stay at the right places. :wink:

radio plays "Real American Hero…

[Announcer]Obviously, she just wanted impregnation by you also. So grab a Bud-Light and get to work, oh Sperm Donor you…! Pop that viagra, save the Amyl Nitrate for between chapters & use lube to put out the friction fires. You’ve got some women to impregnate, and only 6 days to do it!

And if the Eastern Moutains of Taiwan are a rockin’, we won’t come a knockin’.[/Announcer]

Sponsored by MillerBrewingcompanyalwaysdrinkresponsibly

There. I fixed the part you missed.

Sounds to me as though you missed an opportunity.
Well, you do call yourself a Player.

If it’s any consolation, I thought he was talking about those Girl Scout cookies.

I must have missed where he mentioned she was a scout.

She just dresses up as one.

To be fair, I think he’s only out to impregnate his own wife.

Other pregnancies are just collateral damage.

What’s so funny is that I thought it said “Goddamn Tagologs” too.

As for the OP, sorry for ya, TokyoPlayer – nothing worse than planning for a week of sex only to be blue-balled. Hopefully, there will be another opportunity for endless shenanigans. Oh, and yeh, come see me if you wanna know Hell. Today, it was 99 degrees and 120% humidity in Middle TN. The next couple days, it’s supposed to be over 100. YAY.

I’m sure there are legitimate problems and concerns with a couple trying to get pregnant, but it has always seemed ridiculous to me. Wifey wants to get preggers, and consequently the hubby is required to bone her all the damn time until she is impregnated. Ovulation be damned! Screw always, until the goal is met!

Teenagers who have zero interest in getting pregnant seem to be able to get it done just fine, moreso with crack whores it seems. Why does it become difficult when a couple that’s ready to have a kid wants one? I don’t get it.

Maybe it’s the dichotomy between trying to get pregnant and really, really trying to not get pregnant. Same activity, usually with more involved in the latter, but seemingly differing results. Couples that try to get pregnant usually do, often one hears that it takes a while to do so. Two people having sex that do not want a pregnancy, seem to get pregnant quickly and often. Maybe this is a reporting error? I can’t say that I’ve heard about that many episodes of unprotected sex that didn’t result in a pregnancy, but I’ll chalk that up to reporting. I mean, if your bank does a great job, you tell nobody about it (usually), but if they screw you (not literally) you are sure to tell anyone that will listen to you.

Anyone else noticed this?

The first time my husband and I took all four kids on vacation, we received a message at the hotel desk – his ex-wife, her boyfriend and their kid, along with one teen’s boyfriend, were there to hang out with us for the weekend. :confused:

I was aghast. I spent the weekend in the room, watching our baby sleep, and wondering how does one’s vacation get crashed by the ex-wife?

On a different note, we accidentally conceived about a week or two later, despite birth control, but it’s all good now, and the baby is wonderful. Maybe messed-up vacations are a harbinger of babies. :wink:

I’ve talked before about the need for a name change; since I live in Yokohama now and have retired from the circuit.

It was fun, I’ll grant you that. I learned a lot, had some good times and some bad, and I’ve stepped away without any regret.

My wife worries about that at times, if I can really be happy now, but at the risk of sounding trite, I’ll take what I have now over everything I had before. Mind you, the blowjobs in the taxis and the sex in the rest rooms were all fine and good, and that’s why my name was earned. I picked up women in bars, on trains and in department stores. I leared which tie worked better on which night. The fun was in the chase and there was plenty of that.

It’s funny, I will sometimes pick up on the vibes and know that it’s another case of mine to lose, but The Ring grabs me. Never take points off of the board, is the golden rule in sports. You make the field goal, the other team fouls and you have a chance at a TD; but you never take points off of the board. Never walk away from a sure deal.

There are times where you know that it’s a sure deal. I learned the signs, I learned the game and learned who was ready to fuck that night. And I still see the signs. But I see the mother of my too-soon dead son, the woman who endured pain that I could never stand, the soul who saved me from myself, and I stopped. I walked away from sure deals.

I’ve walked away from someone I knew who would fuck me that night, to return back home; because to missquote a favorite song, there is nothing, nothing like her.

It’s funny because for so long I measured myself by the numbers I had, but it was wrong. I only needed one.