Yes, Cynthia and I had done just that. Her incessant insistence had paid off. Such was the rush, nothing remembered, everything forgotten, even forgot to invite her mother to the Civil Ceremony.
Her wedding dress, the one worn by her grandmother. Her thick, long, curly hair, almost matched the colour of the Red Roses she clutched continuously, refusing to put them down.
The woman transformed, radiant. Somehow her gang at work had wind of this rush into matrimony and all turned up.
Such a incredibly brilliant, warm Sunny day.. then it could, inconceivably, have been nothing less.
For my part, totally unprepared for this event, wore my usual travelling clothes, black leather motor cycle gear, leather boots and leather cap.
Cynthia thought it wonderful, holding tightly onto the roses and myself, as if all a dream which could suddenly evaporate into reality.
*********************************
There were no conventions.. all trooped into a nearby Turkish Restaurant.. All plunked ourselves down after much shuffling about with the tables.. surprise at the Wedding Entourage dropping in unannounced. Sat, fantasized about the three young waitresses ..they had something about them.. tried to think what.. other than my imagination. Cynthia quite aware as to where my mind had drifted to.
Thought about the "Ceremony" how analytical it had been. Quickly in.. quickly rushed through the formal few words.. One of Cynthia's friends having to interpret what I was letting myself in for.... Both bent over and signed the huge, embossed book on the huge desk. She threw herself round me. Cameras flashed.. Quickly out.
I had a "Wife"
Looked at Cynthia, without doubt ..a result. Far cry from Nit, from Pa, from Orwun. Even throw in Anna, Dear Anna. Unfair, unreasonable to attempt a comparison between Bucharest and Pattaya. Both having so much to offer in different ways.
Anna? something else.. a complete fantasy, totally impractical situation ..Maybe.. if we had been thrown together closer in some other time warp....
Cynthia knows precisely my thoughts, climbs into my mind.. understands what other women would put down as "unreasonable" the most common word in the so called "Relationship" dramas. She knows there is no much chance of my attitude towards women changing ... no chance.
Will be chatting them up the day I die.. Nothing a woman likes better than to be talked to.. to have their brain fucked.. If they were to admit the truth, sex, as such, something of a has been.. They would so much rather talk slowly round it. If it involves having a few clothes, almost imperceptibly removed, having their bodies gently touched, caressed, in the process.. in the dim light.. in the silence, so much the better. The orgasms, greater.
With Nit .. the others... there had never been any depth. Impossible, no communication.. who can whisper in Thai? Their main interest, almost incontrovertibly, was my Visa Card.
Say this with respect to these ladies. Their position profound.. the only way out for them, via a man with money and a white skin, which immediately places them open to exploitation. Unfortunately, with the best intentions possible, this situation cannot be changed, not in the foreseeable future.
Regardless of the splurges of Do Gooders and so called "Charities", who's only real concern, in my book, is where the next Gin and Tonic is coming from.
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