Thai Thoughts and Anecdotes Part 213

MONGERISM

I am not persuaded that anything academically interesting has been written about mongering. I may be mistaken. I do not have the time or the interest to do the research. However, my instinctive notion is that nothing has been written in a
serious way about mongering because the word sex is too distractive. Mongering has many definitions. I am talking about the descriptive applied to men who pursue women for sex and in numbers and with enthusiasm and focus that polite society finds
unappealing.

The notion that the word sex would be distractive in considering the subject of mongering sounds counterintuitive. What do I mean? I mean that the subject may be bigger, and more interesting, and more complex than just men pursuing women
for sexual reasons.

Of course mongering in general is mostly about men focusing on women for sexual pleasure. If that sentence reads like a one way street rather than a two way street then so be it. She may smile and laugh in your arms. She may not smile and
laugh in your arms. The difference is not important. At any rate, mongering is a man's pleasure. I understand this and I endorse this. I have met and I have been apprised of mongers whose entire focus was on the sex act. But what of the other
creatures under the mongering forest canopy? Men who may appear to outsiders as simply focused mongers but men of additional sensibilities.

Additional sensibilities? Yes, what about risk? Risk. Chance taking. Making of your life a crap shoot and throwing the dice. Running towards the one bullet game of Russian roulette. Cresting every hill in the middle lane on the way home from
work. Yes, what about risk in the monger arena?

As an example: mongering, which often bespeaks high volume in a short period of time, for a westerner in a Southeast Asian country like Thailand is high risk behavior. Obvious risks are violence, disease, illness, moments of aorta clamping
fear, humiliation, and robbery. Other potential risks are loss of family, loss of job, loss of community respect, loss of ego, and derangement.

So why would mongering have appeal for some men beyond the sex act? Risk. Most humans are either risk adverse or risk attracted. The first thing and the last thing they teach you in every stockbroker training course is that in the first five
minutes with a new potential client you must identify whether the client is going to be about preservation of capital (risk adverse) or whether the account is going to be about generating revenue (risk attracted). Leopards only have one set of
spots and they do not change them. For the risk attracted ego the high stakes low return arena of mongering is like tree hive honey to a bear. He can't lick fast enough, the bee stings are acceptable prices to pay, and he does not care how
high he has to climb. Think of bears as honey mongers. In fact, Mr. Bear is convinced with the logic of the addict deranged that the highest honey tastes the best.

When I am standing on the Soi 4 curb in front of the Mothership surrounded by stupidity, filth, greed, sexual posturing, borderline criminality, and complete indifference to me: I am never happier. I bask in the glow of the predictable future
known only to the deranged addict on a monger mission. I am going to find a woman and I am going to pull down her pants. And I am going to survive until tomorrow. But the night does not yawn, it gapes; and it is not teeth it shows but risk. Will
this be the night I am drugged, stabbed, infected, publically disrespected? The possibilities are frosting on the monger cake of sex.

So, is the sex the attractor or is it the risk that is the attractor? The witness on this hot humid Bangkok night would say the sex is the attractor; but the witness is never the participant. The witness can only see, he can never feel. Does
the monger feel more from the sex or does he feel more from the risk: or is it some combination of sex and risk? You say that you do not want to take a long spooky midnight ride to a shack outside the capital of Cambodia where all you need is
a five dollar bill? Too risky? Not for some men. For many mongers the certain knowledge that the sexual pleasure is laced with danger makes them giddy with happiness. You can't stop them. Thus, my contention that the subject of mongering
may be worthy of serious examination. It is an activity more complex then people think. Same same men.

Note: would riskless mongering have the same appeal? Potentates with harems had riskless mongering available to them. Did they have more fun? I am not sure. I am not sure because I can not be sure. Unless some PhD candidate stumbles across
a treasure trove of potentate diaries that speak in detail regarding harem pleasures I suppose we will never know. But my instincts are that even though most harem holders might have been unreflectively happy; there was still a minority of kings
who wished they had to climb a tree to lick the honey. Men don't change.

If freeclimbers who climb mountains without ropes or anchors were informed by God that they would never fall: would they continue to climb mountains? Were they originally freeclimbing for the love of the mountains, or were they climbing for
the love of risk? Fear dumps chemicals into our bloodstream and distributes them. Are risk takers partly drug addled? I contend that an important part of the mongering lifestyle for some men is the arena. It is not all about sex.

Now, dear reader, let us crank up the politically incorrect amps and try and imagine someone not like yourself. Someone who has already been given a death sentence by a doctor, someone attracted to risk, someone full of chemicals and drugs
and ego linked testosterone, someone who can not lick honey fast enough and he does not care how high the tree is. Questions: would women be enough to satiate physical desires? Would the laws of Lilliputian men be of any interest? Would the opinions
of others hold any currency for a monger on the way to godhead status via cosmic beams of risk and sex? Do you not find these questions interesting? Yes you do. You would sit and listen to this man because he is a man doing man things. What are
you doing?

Like I said before, I doubt anything of real interest has been written on mongering because sex distracts the writer. Most people are distracted by the word sex and distracted by the idea of sex because they are not getting any sex; at least
not the sex of their dreams.

If dreams make the man then the world is populated by happy sex mongers. Too bad, like Gulliver, most men are held down by little ropes held by little minds. But I almost digress. Maybe in a world of diminished expectations, and social feminization,
and plummeting testosterone levels the sexual mongers are the most clear eyed of all of us.

Earlier today I was in the supermarket and I saw a woman of such surpassing and excess sexuality that I had to hold on to a bin of watermelons for balance. I looked around at the other men. No other man noticed her. On the sexual plains of
Serengeti she would have been carried off and bonked into estrogen coma. Not here. What happened to men?

Maybe the sex mongers of Southeast Asia are the most clear eyed of all of us. Fully alert, focused, and smiling. They would have noticed this supermarket fertility goddess and they would have had only one thought: a primal thought. Good on
them. Fully alert, focused, smiling. Intellectual. Philosophic maybe. I wonder what a monger spokesperson would say. I would listen.

I know an American expat in the Kingdom who by any measure qualifies as a sexual monger. He is also a very intelligent man. Alpha to everyone else's beta. And a constant thread running through the tapestry of his life has been risk ventures.
Multiple marriages, children, multiple high stress businesses, multiple throws of the dice at the crap table of life. Intelligent, risk attracted, interested enough in having sex with women to be having lots of sex with women: the definition of
a man. Why do we use the word monger? We already have a better word: man.

Anyway, if you see me some night in Bangkok standing on the Soi 4 curb in front of the Mothership do not wave to me or say hello to me. I am busy. Busy measuring risk and reward. Will this be the night I get stabbed, or diseased, or humiliated,
or crippled with fear, or drugged, or robbed? Or will this be the night I encounter a sexual being and a sexual coupling of such intensity that it short circuits my heart, and flat lines my brain waves, and sends me to heaven? No matter. I am
clear eyed, focused, and smiling. Someone tonight is going to feel my claustrophobic arms around them, and my pelvic predations. And I will survive to see a new morning: the monger's Plan A. So do not smile or wave to me if you see me. You
are not a woman and you represent no risk to me. I am busy tonight. I have man work to do and the odds are not guaranteed. Bliss.