One afternoon last summer, somewhere high in the Beartooth Mountains of Wyoming and Montana, I was wet, I was naked, and I was not alone. Skinny-dipping alongside me in the lake was my companion on this four-day hike: Mary Ellen, a cute, half-Korean lesbian with pierced nipples, twelve years my junior. And on shore behind us was my video camera, capturing all the action for my New York Times travel blog, a decision that incurred the wrath of my editors, but not, mysteriously, my wife.
The next day, when Mary Ellen and I again went swimming (this time in proper attire), I emerged unable to stop shivering — a case of mild hypothermia from the glacial water. I rushed back to our tent, dried off, put on as much clothing as I could and crawled into my sleeping bag. When I couldn't stop shaking, I asked Mary Ellen to join me (body contact is the fastest remedy for hypothermia — check your Boy Scout manual). We spooned, and soon I had a massive hard-on. Ridiculous. I was debilitated from exposure, yet some ancient, cretinous part of my brain was circulating hot blood down to the one place it wasn't needed.
Cut me some slack. I hadn't had sex in two months. As a travel columnist for the Times who also happens to be married, my job is an exercise in sexual frustration. I spend months at a stretch traversing the globe while my beautiful, smart, sexy wife, Jean, remains at home in Brooklyn, working the stationary job that pays our bills, and being patient and trusting during my long absences. This is my life: Propelled by a more-than-adequate expense account, I leapfrog from one exotic locale to the next, where as a reporter I am essentially required to flirt with beautiful women — women who sometimes flirt back, offer to have sex with me, and even end up sharing a bed with me (more on that in a moment). I, in turn, must remain unfailingly chaste. Stanley Milgram couldn't have devised a more sadistic psychological experiment.
Travel is about embracing new experiences: foods you've never eaten, languages you've never spoken, religious rituals you've never even heard of. To decline any offer at all — a spontaneous wedding invitation in Pondicherry, a swig of rice wine from an unmarked flask in a Saigonese goat restaurant — is to deny the very spirit of voyaging, and so I decline nothing. Except for it. The fact that I can't take part in it, that most hallowed ritual of travel — sex with strangers — frustrates me on a philosophical level as well as a primal one.
Commentarium (17 Comments)
I have to admit, I pretty thoroughly enjoyed this essay. It feels a bit like there's some meat missing, but how can you go into a lot of detail about the things you're not doing?
I have to admit, that's part of what's driven me the most crazy about traveling overseas, but i never knew how to say it.
This essay just sounded like a bogus public proclamation to his wife, more than anything else.
RE: "This essay just sounded like a bogus public proclamation to his wife, more than anything else."
I have the same feeling. But I'm not sure. It could be that this guy is just a weirdo? A big old pussy? A decent liar? I mean, go ahead and be faithful to your wife, dude... but I don't need to hear about it.
To the other reader who said there was some "meat missing" (heh heh) from the piece: what you are missing is the money shot. This piece is at best a tease. At worst... see the above quote. Either way, this is a destination we need not travel to with Matt Gross again.
Well, the nice thing about "teasing" columns is that they can make you think. I never really thought of this before, but I imagine this is a common "problem" for travel writers. I mean, here you are, all by yourself, the mysterious foreign stranger, with a goal of befriending the natives and getting them to tell you about themselves and their culture. You also have a reasonably good expense account, so you can stay at a nice hotel and pay for whatever entertainment you need to get people to talk to you, including alcoholic beverages if customary for this area. I imagine you'd get hit on quite a lot. Of course, there are also translation difficulties (are you absolutely certain the prostitute was offering you $40 to sleep with her, or offering to sleep with you for $40?), and humor also often does not translate well (maybe she was just joking), so unless you go through with it, you're never really sure. The moral? I guess if you want the full experience, you should start out single in your travel writing career! (Don't expect your editor to let you write about your exploits, though, unless Hooksexup starts a travel column!)
I totally enjoyed this. I recommend checking out his column as well. He's just a great writer, which incidentally was a breath of fresh air for me. I completely disagree with the statements above about writing it solely for his wife's sake-I actually picked up on the opposite...
Regardless of whether you slept with these women or not, it's the underlying relation that is important. Marriage has different meanings for everyone, however there is a fundamental commitment to honor and respect. Exploring sexual possibilities but not acting on them is a violation. You have the ability not to engage in the first place, to prevent the situation like the Thai girl offering to pay you for sex (and by the way, regardless if that happened or not, you sound pretty conceited). Desire is easy... you can find it almost anywhere. When you marry someone you make the active effort, the commitment, not to put yourself in those situations because you honor and respect your spouse. I hope you and your wife are on the same page about all this.
"yay me, my life is so awesome, i travel everywhere, whores offer to pay to have sex with ME but i am faithful to my hot wife! give me a cookie"
i am sick of men seeking praise for behaving as well as women always do
And your point is? Wow man your too cool for school...
Ugh. What a total narcissist. If there's anything worse than the guy who brags about all the sex he's having, it's the guy who brags about all the sex he COULD be having. Look, I know part of Hooksexup's mission is to spice things up, but this reads like George Costanza's letter to Penthouse Forum. I found this piece so insulting on so many levels I'd like to go on a full-blown rant about Matt Gross, but I think the disclaimer below keeps me from doing so...
I think its bullshit. You're nailing them left right and center.
You're killing me, Smalls. I get that you love your wife but leave her and live large. No kids, no harm, no foul.
I would still be careful. We are all human and if you leave room for "error" like that with different "travel mistresses," you are still treading on rocky ground, and some day the sex may happen. It's already happened in your head, so that's the first step. Just sayin', that's all.
Exploring sexual possibilities but not acting on them is a violation.
It's a violation if your partner thinks it's a violation. That's it, though - consenting adults get to make their own rules. You, AT, don't get to make rules for them. Or for me. Or for anyone.
I don't know, but lounging around in bed with another woman, both of you clad only in bathrobes and drinking alcohol, or cuddling and skinny-dipping with another woman, seems to cross some line of appropriate "married person behavior". Just because there's no penetration doesn't mean the actions aren't wrong.
This brings me back to my travels, when male companions routinely mistook normal social interactions as "sexual tension." Kind of gross (no pun intended)
I've been a travel writer for almost 20 years, and travel has ruined more relationships than I care to recount.
Great article I loved Mr.Gross honesty in the story. Keep up the good work.