A Letter to my Lover

Dear Chiang mai. Look, we've been doing this whole "on again off again" thing for years. I say hurtful things, you ask me to move out, you give me cheep clothes and good food, I move back in. 

Let's not kid ourselves, we both love this emotional game we keep playing. We understand each other. You know to behave and be nice when my parents are around, but you also get so naughty when it's just you and me at night. It's a great mutual understanding, and all in all I think that we would both agree the good from our relationship out weights the bad. 

So it's with a heavy heart that I have to address our current problem. I tried to bite my tounge. I tried to look the other way. I'm sorry, I can't keep quiet anymore. 

Chiangmai. Your coffee is shit. Like seriously. You have some amazing beans and so much potential. But it's like you just stopped trying after that point. 

I'd give the whole "it's not you, it's me" speech, but let's not kid ourselves here. Your coffee is shit and I don't know if I can look past that anymore. 

xx Your caffeine deprived lover. 

Chiang Mai Life

Lazy days, loud music, good books. Chiang Mai, you are beautiful. Don't let any of those tourists tell you otherwise.

The First Girl

She's getting married. Married. 

The big 'M' word. The one that makes me nauseous and giddy at the same time. 

The first one of the group. Back in high school it was almost a race. Who could snag the right one first. 

Don't get me wrong, this guy's amazing. He has the sexiest accent I have ever heard. His big lips, and deep eyes will draw anyone in as he sings with his raspy voice and acoustic guitar. She smiles when she thinks of him, she always has. He will keep her truly happy. I know this. 

So why does this pit in my stomach feel like it is growing by the second?

I remember back to those lazy school nights. Sitting on her bed as she edited her latest photos. Painting our nails, and discovering new Pinterest boards. I remember her short red hair, pulled up in a messy bun, with wisps gently framing her face. It was like the bastard humidity had no effect on her. 

Every day after school we would go hunting for a new coffee shop, determined to find a better roast than yesterdays. We would sip our lattes and talk about our boyfriends. At the time we were both in long distance relationships, and used each other for companionship. Now she's marrying hers, and I'm left trying to understand why that hurts.

Playful children, dancing in our undies, showering together, skinny dipping. God I saw that girl naked so many times. None of it was ever sexual though. I never felt sexual in those moments. But it's because of those moments that I can never tell her about my perversions. I would forever tarnish those memories for her. Her religious mind would only see me as a sick freak who manipulated her to see her and all her friends naked. I didn't. It wasn't like that. But I did love her. 

God did I love her. 

The hours I spent praying away my sins each Sunday. Trying to cleanse myself of these impure feelings. Only to see her again on Monday, and fall all over again. 

And now she's getting married. 

I will be there for the big day. I will put on my best dress and smile. I will watch her say her vows. And I will dance with the first girl I ever loved.