The Bank Of Farang

atmscreen.jpg A few weeks ago, a young lady of my acquaintance was banging on my apartment door here at Bad Boy Towers as if there were no tomorrow, having sent me a garbled message that she desperately needed money to pay the bills of a dead relative. Whatever.

I don’t mind helping the girls out from time to time, but I’m also mindful that if I always say yes, I’ll never get rid of them. I’d helped this particular young lady out a couple of times already in previous weeks, so I decided that this time she could find it elsewhere. She’s hardly short of options in this city, and I didn’t want her to think of me as the “soft touch”.

The Withdrawal

As she banged away on my apartment door, I merrily pretended to be out. An hour later though, a glimpse through the peephole confirmed that she was still camped outside the door. This was becoming a problem.

After a hushed exchanges of text messages with a kindly neighbour, he valiantly came to my rescue and “just happened to be passing” when he tripped over her in the hallway and informed her that I was definitely not in, and wouldn’t be back anytime soon.

Unfortunately, he’s a little softer than I am, and after listening to her tale of woe (and her insistence that she was quite happy to sit there for ten hours waiting for me to return), tossed her a couple of thousand baht in pity. She promised through tearfully grateful eyes that she’d definitely return it tomorrow. Or possibly the day after. Weeks passed…

The Refund

Said valiant neighbour was by this time over in Old Europe, the poor sod, but our damsel in distress got back in touch nonetheless. Desperate to repay his generosity, she asked whether she could come over and give me the two thousand baht, so that I could pass it (and her eternal gratitude) onto him. Naturally, I agreed.

An hour or so later, she pitched up on the mat and told me just how grateful she was to my pal. Turned out her grandmother had died, and she’d been stuck for money to pay to take the body out of the hospital. But in a karmic twist of fate (aren’t they all?), it turns out that dead granny had left my petite shag-monkey three hundred thousand baht in the will. Result.

It had been a long journey from outer Bangkok in heavy traffic, so delightful nouveau-riche girly wanted to crash out for a bit with a drink and a cigarette before she popped down to the ATM to get the money with which to refund my pal. I poured her a coke and chucked her a packet of cigarettes. No problem.

Then she decided she was kind of hungry too. But she’d go to the ATM soon. No problem – one bowl of MSG-addled noodle-shaped matter coming up.

She greedily slurped away the last of the meal, and theatrically moaned in gratitude. Now she was horny, she said. Could we just have sex, and then she’d go to the ATM?

Sure.

One damp patch later, she was just about ready to return the loan. In fact, she said that since she’d drunk all the Coke, eaten the last of the noodles and smoked most of my cigarettes, she’d pick up replacements at the 7-11 when she went to the ATM.

But before she went, could she possibly borrow some small change to make a quick phone call?

Sure.

So off she went, a bottle of coke and a bowl of noodles heavier, a shag more satisfied and a packet of cigarettes more cancerous. And about twenty baht richer.

She’d return in ten minutes, she promised – with the two thousand baht, a packet of cigarettes, a bottle of Coke and a bag of noodles.

That was last Tuesday.

Obviously the bottle of coke, the packet of noodles, the packet of cigarettes and 20 baht add up to well under 200 baht, which would normally be a great price for what was a great shag.

But since I was expecting it to be free, I can’t help but feel ripped off. Not as much as my charitable neighbour was, obviously, but it’s all about me at the end of the day. It’s a hard life…

In Japan – for better or worse!

Ultraman is in Japan. Wedding time – for a friend. Hit the clubs last night. Came up dry but I am used to it. Off to shop and perv. Best thing about Japan is hanging on the right street perving at all the hotties going about their day. Little do they know how much pleasure I get out of it even if they don’t. Going in search of some toys, condoms, BAPE shirts and anything else wacky I can find. Trip report soon…

Any club or bar suggestions?

May the force be with u.

The Telephone Manner

A Thai cellphone, yesterday
A Thai cellphone, yesterday

Ask any of Thailand’s old-timer farangs what’s been responsible for the biggest changes in the scene over the past decade or so, and the answer will usually be the same. Cellphones.

Every time a Thai girl hooks up with a farang, a yippon or even another Thai, if they’re suitably impressed then the exchange of cellphone numbers is inevitable.

Obviously there are huge advantages (and disadvantages) on both sides, but there’s no denying the massive impact that the cellphone revolution has had here in Bangkok.

But by golly, they have no manners at all.

I’ve seen girls taking calls while dancing onstage in gogo bars. I’ve had one answer the phone while we were having sex – my reaction was, of course, to quicken and harden the pace, so that Somchai (or whoever) knew precisely what she was up to.

Recently, the crazy gik has finally found someone to make an honest woman of her. Looks like she’s off to Norway with her new beau. I’ll miss her admirable enthusiasm for horizontal jogging, but I was never going to make her my girlfriend, and was always honest with her on that front.

Still, she could have let me down a little more gently. Here’s the SMS I received:

Nex week my boyfriend come and nex month we go to norway together sorry and bye never see you again

Did I just win the utterly unsubtle dumping by text message crown for 2007?

Biz 101 :: The Books

When we first started out looking to build a business in Thailand, I went to the book store hoping to find something along the lines of Thailand Business for Dummies but nothing like that existed. I was possibly hoping to even find a book that might share some bar owner war stories but mostly all you will find is bargirl war stories. Maybe someday this section of the blog will spawn the Thailand Business for Dummies book but in the meantime we have a few suggestions for books that may help you in your quest to move to Thailand and start a business.

Continue reading “Biz 101 :: The Books”

The P4P Scene in Macau – Part 4 by Arthur

Outcall Agencies

There are women handing one one-page colour flyers for outcall massage all over the central area of Macau. I collected as many as I could and obtained 18 – all with different telephone numbers. I doubt the Macau market supports 18 agencies. I expect a few agencies have several numbers to give customers the illusion of more choice.

The flyers are all the same with photos of beautiful young light-skinned well endowed girls and Chinese text offering their services for a low price.

I called one number and the man who answered spoke no English. A second try got someone who was very direct: ‒What you want? How much you pay?” Maybe that’s how the Chinese negotiate but it didn’t appeal to me, so I passed. I have only used an agency once, in Singapore when I didn’t know any better. I was bait-and-switched and have disliked the business model ever since.

Co-Habitation, Part Two

Tears on my towel, yesterday
Tears on my towel, yesterday

nb. This is Part Two of a two-part story.
Part One is here.

I wasn’t going to make a potentially life-changing decision without consulting my friends, obviously. I called, emailed and spoke to a few people, asking not only for their opinions, but for more practical advice – like how would I deal with her bar wanting money to smooth the passage of her leaving?

Most reacted with amusement. Then recoiled in shock when a punchline was not forthcoming. “You want to do what? Are you insane?” – etc.

Others were more useful. “Don’t pay the bar a satang”, said one. “That money’s supposed to ease her leaving, and ensure that she can go back if she needs to. But if she makes money for the bar, they’d take her back anyway. And if they don’t, another bar will”.

But the most important advice was with regard to the difficulties of ending such a relationship. If a girl has the keys to your apartment, dumping her can get to be extremely expensive – in both monetary and psychological terms. One friend had a girl come at him with a machete when he decided he wanted to break up. Another had to fake his emigration to Cambodia in order to stop her from constantly coming over to wail at him.

“Think about how you’re going to handle the break-up”, was the advice I received on Friday night. “And think about how she’s going to handle it. If she’s the type to get over-emotional and over-react to trivial things, then the break-up, when it comes – and it will – is going to be hell”.

He had a point. The girl and I hadn’t even had an argument yet. How would she react if it all went pear-shaped and I wanted her out? I needed to find out, but I wasn’t quite sure how.

Fate always provides. That very night, I brought her back to my place once again. I sat down to catch up with my e-mails, and read the new comments on this site while she showered. But when she returned, she spotted a scrap of paper on my desk.

It said “Nok. 08xxxxxxxx”. Oops.

Nok was a cute girl from a Silom massage shop who’d given me a thoroughly enjoyable foot massage a couple of months ago – before I even met my potential co-habitee.

She’d given me her number, but when I called there was no answer. I sent a text, and received no reply. That was the end of that – except I’d forgotten to throw away the piece of paper with her name and number on.

I explained all of this to my girl. She nodded, and softly padded away into the bedroom. I finished up on the computer, and shut it down for the night.

In the bedroom, she was crying into what had been a pink towel, but was quickly gaining a pattern of black smudges from the mixture of mascara and tears she was sobbing into it (pictured above).

I was genuinely concerned, and tried to comfort her, but it seemed that – whilst she believed that Nok was no longer a concern – she was still so jealous that I’d received another girl’s phone number before we’d even met that she was overcome with emotion.

This didn’t bode well for any future, more dramatic, clashes. I figured I’d sleep on it. Well, on her. And it.

I woke up the next morning afternoon and left her sleeping while I spent an hour or so on the site entertaining my hordette of fans. She eventually rose at around 4.30pm, and wordlessly locked herself in the bathroom where she showered and dressed.

“Say hi to Nok for me”, she snarled as she left for work. I protested my innocence again, but she wasn’t impressed. She hasn’t been back. I think that’s possibly what they call a close shave.

Bangkok Bad Boy is still living alone, and now has an extra pair of earrings for sale.

The P4P Scene in Macau – Part 3 by Arthur

Massage Parlours

Most hotels have a Health Club or Sauna that includes massage services. There are also many stand alone businesses again in the old part of town. The stand alone businesses are marketed with billboards (‒Sauna Fun, Fun, Fun” anyone?) and with someone outside who can explain the services offered.

I went to a stand alone sauna, the Golden Sauna on Rua de Cantão. When I entered the lobby they got a girl who spoke passable English to explain the options to me. Hang said she was from Hanoi and was good looking and charming herself. It wasn’t her fault but I misunderstood the options as will be clear later.

Continue reading “The P4P Scene in Macau – Part 3 by Arthur”

Co-Habitation, Part One

Domestic detritus, yesterday
Domestic detritus, yesterday

I’ve always lived alone in Bangkok. Whilst I’ve lost count of the number of girls I’ve shared my bed with, they’ve never stayed for longer than a day or two. The endless influx of companions can take its toll on a simple apartment, beyond the simple need to throw away all those extra toothbrushes every week or two.

Indeed, my most recent clearing-out session (pictured) yielded a handbag, sanitary towels, a clockwork musical cherub, a wax mould of my hand clasped with that of a particularly over-keen young lady, a half-drunk bottle of something pink, a mini-dress, various cosmetics, a cellphone charger, three pairs of earrings, three toothbrushes and a bottle of fanny-wash. All offers considered.

And so onto the point. As far-fetched as it may seem, I recently found myself falling for a particularly tasty gogo girl. I came across her for the first time a week or so before leaving for my mercifully brief trip to the UK, and we found ourselves spending most of our time together until I flew to Europe.

I returned to Bangkok having taken a rather painful hit in the wallet, but went to see her in the bar whilst I waited for more funds to come through. She was visibly thrilled to see me, shooed away the pushy waitresses who were suggesting I should buy her a drink, and just draped herself over me as I sipped on a cheap beer.

In between spending time together, she’d been sending cheesy love poems to me by text message. They were obviously copied from a book, but it was still a touching gesture – especially considering the fact that all too many girls seem to consider an appropriate vocabulary of communication to be “you buy me drink”, “I go with you”, “two thousand”, and “pussy hurt now. you finish soon please”.

I’d tentatively approached the subject with her after a marathon session of naked twister, and asked what she thought about the idea of moving in. Her eyes lit up like the neon sign of the gogo bar from which I’d plucked her.

And, of course, if she was to be my live-in girlfriend, she wouldn’t be working in a gogo bar any more. She could be housemaid, cook and concubine – in exchange for a modest allowance, of course. All that remained was to work out the details, and to make sure there weren’t any last-minute hitches…

Part Two is here. Feel free to share your own tales of domestic bliss – or otherwise – with Bangkok’s ladies of the night.