patrick.net

Since it's tough to run through an entire thread to find this, I figured I should make this a reference read, all on its own.

Original thread:

http://patrick.net/?p=1246407

Here's a trip report, emailed around, about an older guy, who's lost himself to the Philippines. For me, I do not believe in the expression, hindsight is 20/20. For me, it's more that that person's foresight was negligent. When I'm in my late 40s, I would not have gone through a similar crisis.

Traveler: "I'm 47 years old and in good health.

I’m not struggling with a mid-life crisis. Everything is, or was, going well for me.

I was satisfied with my life. I was happy and content, or I thought I was. So what the hell happened to me?

I have a good job. I was satisfied with it. I have a great wife, we almost never argue. We have two fine children, a boy and a girl, both in college. I make good money with cash in the bank. We have a nice house and a summer place on the beach. Even the pets, two cats and a dog, get along well together.

I went fishing to Canada once a year with my buddies, played tennis almost every weekend, golfed occasionally, movies with the family sometimes, cards with other couples once in a while, poker with the boys a couple of times a month, a night out with the guys once every blue moon, and sex with the wife once every two weeks or so.

Now I don’t give a damn about my current life. So what could have possibly turned my world upside-down? I went to Angeles City in the Philippines.

My downfall started several years ago when the three friends I go fishing with to Canada every year decided instead to go to Angeles City. They said they’d heard the streets were lined with sexy, young, and beautiful women, that all you had to do was show up with some cash in your pocket.

I’d heard those stories about other places in the world but I discounted them. I told them that was just a tall tale, but they insisted they were going. I couldn’t persuade them to change their minds. They attempted to convince me to go also but I wasn’t interested.

Their first trip was June 2001. They left grown men and returned little kids. They walked around most of the time with silly grins on their faces, and acted like they had a big secret they were just itching to tell everyone but couldn’t. When they were alone with the other guys, all they talked about was Angeles City. They told the wildest stories I’d ever heard. I quite frankly thought they had lost their minds, relating outrageous tales that couldn’t possibly be true.

One night my wife asked me if I had noticed anything different about my friends. When I told her I hadn’t, she said that my friends’ wives, all friends of hers, had told her their husbands had been acting a little strange ever since they returned from the last fishing trip.
I had lied to her. Of course I knew why they had been behaving strangely. The Philippines had done it to them. My friends were ten years old again, always carrying that goofy grin on their faces. I couldn’t understand how one trip to that place could cause so many changes in them.

They went the next year too, in June 2002. This time they returned with photographs. They had shots with two or three girls in the pool at their hotel, in restaurants, even in their rooms. The girls were gorgeous, sexy and young. They weren’t lying about that.Those photographs were their prized possession. They would excitedly jab a finger at one of the pictures and their voices would jump an octave while they related one of their stories. It was really strange behavior for normally mature men in their forties.

They described sex acts with those girls that I had only dreamed about, things that I couldn’t even mention to my wife. She would have left me instantly if I had even remotely suggested it might be fun to have a threesome with another female. I can just about guarantee you those kinds of subjects are never broached with a white, middle-class, Baptist wife.

Despite their photos, the vivid descriptions and graphic details of their latest adventures, I didn’t entirely believe their stories. I told them those things just don’t happen. I admitted they probably had sex with those girls, but I said I just didn’t believe they had two or three of those girls in the bed and had sex with them all at the same time.

My buddies lost interest in everything except talking about Angeles City and planning their next trip. My wife noticed the changes too, asking why I wasn’t playing tennis or golfing with the guys anymore. I just told her that they had gotten busy doing other things lately. She gave me one of those “Oh yeah?” looks. She knew something was awry but since normalcy was still the standard in our house, she didn’t push me on the subject.

It was a few months after their second trip to the Philippines that the guy that worked in the same company with me, separated from his wife. He was the first one.I was shocked when my wife told me about it. His wife had been over to my house, crying on my wife’s shoulder, really balling her eyes out my wife said. She told my wife she didn’t understand her husband anymore, they hadn’t had sex in months, he had been really weird and that she had no idea why he wanted to leave her.

My friend refused to explain anything to his wife. He wouldn’t discuss it with his two kids who were already grown and out of the house. He just took off, leaving his wife alone.

I wondered if the Philippines had pushed him over the edge. I talked to him, asking him if he was sick or something. He replied that he didn’t want to be married anymore. I told him it was those trips to the Philippines that had screwed him up. I remember his response clearly to this day,
“You don’t understand. You just don’t understand. You have to go there to understand”.

Shortly thereafter he filed for divorce. I talked to him again, telling him he was stupid for throwing away everything he had worked for the last twenty-five years or so. He just sat there with a hang-dog look, slowly nodding his head back and forth. He acted like he was being coerced to do something against his will, yet in his next breath when he mentioned Angeles City, he was instantly transformed, happy and grinning again.

I thought he was just a weak individual with no self-control or self-discipline. I told him bluntly he was just letting the little head do the thinking for the big head and that he should grow up and get over it. He told me that wasn’t it and repeated that I just had to go there to understand. It was all completely beyond my comprehension.They made their third trip to Angeles City in June 2003. When they returned, all they talked about was going again. All they cared about was getting back to Angeles City. It was their sole topic every time I saw them. Their behavior and attitudes were totally alien to me.

The guy that worked in the company with me was now divorced. Within two weeks of returning from their third trip, another one of the guys left his wife. My wife began wondering out loud about those fishing trips to Canada but she never confronted me directly.

In February of this year, my company sent a team of us to Japan on business. The friend that was now divorced was a member. We had planned to spend two weeks in Japan. As it turned out, we finished in a week. My friend suggested we take a jaunt down to the Philippines. I told him I wasn’t interested but he persisted until I relented.I wasn’t concerned in the least about what the Philippines might do to me. What had happened to my friends wouldn’t happen to me. So what if there are young sexy girls in the Philippines? So what if I could have sex with them? I wasn’t worried. I wasn’t going to Angeles to have sex with those women. Some of those girls in Angeles were my daughter’s age. I couldn’t have sex with women that young, no way! I couldn’t even imagine having sex with women that young. I was going to merely see what all the fuss was about.

So now I have been back from Angeles City almost three months. I thought a trip to the Philippines wouldn’t phase me. I was wrong. I thought I could return to my normal life without any disruptions. I was wrong. I assumed when I returned home, the memories of the trip would fade. I was wrong. I thought I would be able to deal with whatever Angeles City threw at me. I was totally wrong!

I understand my friends now. Everything they told me is true. When we get together, we howl and laugh and slap each other on the back. We tell the same stories over and over. We are closer friends now than ever before, almost brothers. We are members of a special group, for we have been to Angeles City!!!!

My friend took me to the Champagne Club first. He was well known there, several girls squealing, laughing, grabbing him and greeting us as we walked in the door. In no time at all he had introduced me to four or five stunning beauties; and I could take one, two or all of them home with me? It was something I’d never thought possible. Within five minutes of entering the Champagne Club, I had succumbed to the charms of Angeles City. I didn’t realize it then but I was already lost forever.

All I want now is to go again. I dream of the first night in Angeles City that changed my life forever. I had two gorgeous, sweet girls, naked with me in the hotel swimming pool, taking showers with me, all three of us nude in the bed, doing things I had hardly even read about in racy novels.

Or I dream of the time I stayed with Maricel, only twenty years old with a soft, sexy, purring voice that will melt you like an ice cube in the hot Philippino sun. She has a body and face that would win beauty contests in the United States.We were together four glorious days and nights. We spend most of the days around the hotel pool, swimming, throwing the beach ball back and forth and splashing water. She would wrap her legs around my waist and her arms around my neck and pull me close while we were lounging in the water. Sitting by the pool she was always near me, touching me or holding my hand. Frequently she crawled up in my lap, playing with my ears or hair and kissing me on the neck, face and lips.

She was the most loving, affectionate and accommodating woman I’d ever met in my life. My wish was her command. She would run get my cigars, go to the store to pick up snacks for the room and take the dirty clothes to the laundry. You name it, she did it for me. She never complained about anything, not once in four days.We made love in the morning when we woke up. Usually in the late afternoon we’d make love again. At night we’d go out to eat and then go bar hopping. Afterwards we’d return to the hotel and make love again. She always wanted to sleep close to me, throwing an arm and a leg over my body. Sometimes I would just lay there listening to her soft breathing next to my ear while she slept. It was heaven!

She wasn’t jealous either. When we were in the clubs, I could call other girls over, buy them drinks and talk to them. She would sit close, always touching me while she joined in the conversations. She even told me it was ok if I wanted to take another girl with us.

Can you imagine a white woman volunteering to bring another chick home for sex? I thought I was dreaming. This couldn’t be happening. This young beautiful lady was willing to share me with another girl, at the same time? I told her “No” because I was so enraptured of her, I didn’t want to share her with anyone, not even another girl.

We were making love three times a day, sometimes more. During the day she would sometimes whisper in my ear, “Honey, let’s go inside.” We did it everywhere imaginable in the room, on the desk, on the floor, sitting on the couch, in the shower, everywhere! We even did it in the hotel pool late one night.

Any kind of sex I wanted was OK with her. In fact she showed me some things I’d never done before. If you can imagine it, I think we did it. Our love-making was indescribable!Never in my life had I felt like this. I had boundless energy the entire trip, even though I was sleeping only three or four hours a night. I feel twenty years younger now. I am full in spirit. I am alive!!!

Angeles City is amazing. Everyone smiles and greets you wherever you go, even the girls on the street. They hooted and hollered when I walked into the clubs where I was known. The guys living there were friendly. You could easily meet them anywhere, in the clubs, outdoor bars, Kokomo’s and other restaurants. They would spend time drinking a beer, chatting and relating their life experiences with you. I wanted to be like them. I wanted to live their lives.When I was in Angeles City, I was a new person. The world as I knew it had ceased to exist. I could speak freely. I didn’t have to modify my behavior for fear of repercussions. People left me alone. I could do just about anything I wanted and wouldn’t be criticized – there was no politically-correct bullshit in Angeles City.

I didn’t have to get up early and drag myself to work every day. I didn’t have a demanding boss looking over my shoulder. I didn’t have those relentless monthly bills that are unavoidable at home. I didn’t have to worry about changing the oil in the cars, cutting the grass, fixing the roof or catering to the wife’s needs. Hell, I didn’t even have to take out the garbage.I had miraculously escaped the rat race and the suffocating restrictions American society imposes on all of us.

Angles City!!!! This is the way it is supposed to be! I am free! I control my destiny!So after one trip to Angeles City, I found I was locked into my life at home, a life I didn’t want anymore. I thought I had lost my mind. My behavior changed, just as my friends’ did. My wife started asking me what was wrong with me. I could see the worried look on her face. She was concerned for my mental health. I wouldn’t, couldn’t explain anything to her. She suggested I see a psychiatrist. I did, explaining in much greater detail than here.While I talked for over an hour, the doc sat there with this incredulous look on his face. I wondered if he was deciding if I was a complete lunatic or planning his first trip to the Philippines.

He told me I wasn’t crazy, advising me to grow up, get over it and get on with my life, the same thing I had told my friends. Ironically I found myself repeating, just as my friends had to me,
“You don’t understand. You just don’t understand. You have to go there to understand”.

Going to the doctor didn’t do much good. I did decide I hadn’t totally lost my marbles, but I had lost interest in everything I had held dear before.

The job? The hell with it. I don’t care anymore. I still go to work because I have to. Believe me, if it wasn’t required, I wouldn’t set foot in the office another day. I have another 15 years to work before I’m eligible to retire. I don’t think I can last that long. Physically I’m ok. Mentally, I shudder to think I have to work another fifteen years before I can retire to the Philippines.

My hobbies? Tennis anyone? Screw it, I never play the game anymore. Fishing? I’ll give you my rods and reels, just drop by the house some afternoon. Golf? My clubs can turn to rust for all I care. Playing cards with the wife and friends? No thanks, it’s boring. Poker with the guys? Yeah but we just drink and talk about the Philippines. I seldom see a movie and I never watch TV anymore.

I had never spent a lot of time on the computer at home before I went to Angeles City but I do now, always checking the bulletin boards. I crave any information at all about the place. I cruise the Angeles City and bar web sites, looking at all the photos and devouring any news about the town. When the wife’s out of the house or sleeping, I chat with the girls I know there.I haven’t had sex with my wife since I returned from the Philippines. I’m not interested in sex with her anymore. We don’t even sleep in the same bedroom now. My wife has done nothing wrong but she’s losing me, 27 years of marriage down the toilet. She’s aware it’s happening but doesn’t understand why or how to stop it.

I am thrown into depression and despair when I hear her crying and sobbing through the wall at night, yet at the same time I’m wishing she would finally go to sleep so I can sneak off to the computer and chat with the girls in Angeles City. We are on the road to divorce and like my friends before me, it’s entirely my fault, yet I am powerless to change anything.

I know I can not go back to being the man I was previously. I admit to you I don’t even want to go back to my prior life, for I have been to the Elysian Fields. I am obsessed with returning. The desire to be on the streets, and in the bars in Angeles City is an overpowering drug I can not control. I can’t wait until I get on the plane again. It’s all I dream of.

I dislike myself though, for not being strong enough to resist the siren call of Angeles City. I abhor the thoughts, emotions and desires that lure me back to Fields Avenue, yet in the next second, my spirit soars and I am smiling again as I think of my next trip, but I hate myself for ruining my family’s lives. Sometimes I cry too, knowing what I will ultimately do to them.

Yet my thoughts about Angeles City never dissipate. I care to talk only of my experiences there. I am irresistibly drawn to Fields Avenue just as lemmings are to the sea. All I want is to get back to what was heaven on earth for me. It is the sole reason for my existence anymore.

If you are happy now, don’t go to Angeles City. Angeles City will destroy your life. Once you have visited that town, you will lose interest in everything and everyone at home. Every waking hour you will spend plotting to return again, and again, and again, and again.

I am an Angeles City junkie now, addicted until I die.

Don’t go to Angeles City. Don’t ruin your life as I have done. "