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Thai Thoughts And Anecdotes Part 66

  • Written by Dana
  • October 30th, 2004
  • 12 min read

Thai Thoughts And Anecdotes 66


People who spend all of their time with others of like mind can sometimes lose the plot. Birds of a feather fly together and it is always fun to be part of a herd; but sometimes delusion can set in when there are no competing voices. For example: one of the ideas that binds all male farang visitors to Thailand together is that the Thai female is one of the best examples of female beauty and charm in the world. More gloriously beautiful, fabulously feminine, sexually provocative women simply can not be imagined. This is a common idea. Oh sure, you can mention the Laotians and the Cambodians and the Vietnamese to sound like a world traveler smarty pants; but most men after ten beers will forget the fancy stories and agree that the Thai female is the Alpha female. Period. So are we all crazy or is this just some convenient mantra of male bonding that we have all bought into?

Well, let me offer up a recent experience. Recently, I was waiting in the Park Street subway station in Boston on a Monday morning to get a train to work. It was early morning rush hour and people were streaming through the station. Half of those people were women. Many of them were young women. Not one of them was sexually appealing or sexually provocative or sexually appealing or fabulously feminine or drop dead gorgeous or exotically arresting or filled with erotic intrigue or looked like she could baby doll charm the birds out of the trees. It looked like some one opened the dog pound and let the dogs out. A more dispiriting herd of chunky clunky overweight sexually uninteresting unfeminine beasts it would be hard to imagine.

Contrast this with the experience you can have at any skytrain station at rush hour in Bangkok. Just stand on the sidewalk and look up the stairs. Descending towards you will be women of heart stopping beauty and sexuality and natural charm. Swarms of them. So no; we are not crazy! We are not the deluded talking to the deluded. We are men who know. All things are not equal. Asian women are better. Thai women are best. Now, if you can excuse me I have to go lie down. I am exhausted.


The little child at the kite festival that charges me twice as much for bottled water as for my Thai companion is simply reflecting the trickle down theory of social learning. Every older figure of authority in her life does this so it must be right. We learn by imitating. She is now the unwitting host of a parasitic social theory of economic intercourse that will hold her nation back. Imagine you are a World Bank representative in Bangkok to talk to the Thai government officials about a World Bank development loan. While the Thai accented western educated Thais are presenting the features and benefits of loaning money to the Kingdom, you are thinking about the girl at the kite festival and the trickle down theory of economics that she represents. She would never understand why double pricing is unproductive. She is just a child. But if you ascend the social ladder from this child no one else above her understands why predatory flea market thinking can not work in a global economy either! The Thai government doesn't get the 900 million dollar development loan that it needed. Later, opinions are offered by the Thais that it was western racism. No. They need to interview the little girl at the kite festival.


I have an idea. Have you ever considered that the social sexual dynamics and social interactions and social results and social experiences that you experience in Thailand are normal? And that it is the rest of the world that is out of kilter! That's right; I am postulating that it is worth considering that Thailand shouldn't be getting any attention due to it's easy going social sexual dynamics. It is a world of normalcy. It is the rest of the world that has lost the plot regarding male female interactions. In our million years of evolution we have also had a million years to place emotional taxes and tariffs and taboos and penalties on every single natural human instinct and emotion. The rest of the world is the result. Sexless people in charge of scared people. I don't think people who travel to Thailand with a social sexual agenda should have to defend themselves. I believe their travel agendas and personal wants are as legitimate as anyone else's. It is the rest of the world that would profit from examining it's attitudes and it's behaviors!


My body is a good responder. If I overeat the wrong kinds of foods I gain weight immediately but if I cut back on eating the wrong kinds of foods I lose weight immediately. A good responder and a predictable response. Recently I had been overeating the wrong kinds of foods (carbohydrates, refined sugars, and fats). Almost compulsively overeating. I am an aware internal historian. I knew what I was doing. Then it occurred to me that I had not gained any weight. In fact I looked good. I was tired (sugar shock?) but I looked trim. Sitting at the computer in my underwear I looked 19. Pulling up my shirt and pushing down the tops of my pants there was no trace of overweight. My upper abdomen should have been distended from sugar bloat and there should have been an extra pound of unappealing fat below the belt line. Nothing. Alarm bells went off. This isn' t normal for me! What could be causing me to not gain weight? Sickness? Serious illness? Then the word appeared in my brain. AIDS. Heartstopping fear! Jesus, what a serious game!


Sometimes I am just interested in highly efficient sex. Usually at night to round off the day. No foreplay. No pretending. No tortured attempts at conversation. I'm a sex tourist. I want what I came for. I want it now!

I don't use short term rooms in bars. Too dangerous. There are so many of them and only one of me. Normally, there aren't any yum-yum bars around. Having sex publically actually makes me less nervous than going into a little room. And the transvestites have a man's strength. I'm a small weak man. They scare me. But I've come up with a method for highly efficient sex. Here's how it goes:

I take a Viagra dose around 9pm in my room at the Nana hotel. Then I leave and go across the street to the bars at the Nana Entertainment Plaza. I pick a bar, say the Rainbow. I order a coke. I watch the girls shuffle. I'm under no pressure because I'm not hunting. I'm not taking any of these woman home. I'm just waiting. Waiting for the Viagra to kick in. In about an hour; it's showtime. In my pants. I leave the bar, walk across the street; and start walking up the carpark towards the entrance to the Nana hotel. There are always freelancers in the parking lot lined up on both sides from the curb to the door. At a distance it's like I have night vision goggles on. Now I'm hunting. I pick one out. Ten words of conversation. Max! Into the hotel and up to the room. Thirty minutes later we are done. I'm happy. She's happy. Efficient.

An hour and a half later the Viagra will kick in again. I don't know why. Repeat. Only skip the trip across the street to the bar. Just nip on down to the parking lot. Fall in love again. Finally, down to the hotel bar around midnight for a Bloody Mary drink. Then up to bed. Another great day in Thailand comes to a close. Efficient.


Before you make your first trip to Thailand as a sex tourist you probably do some reading and research. And all the advice about farang-bargirl etiquette advises you to call the payoff money to the prostitute 'taxi' money. You at the door: "Here honey, here is some taxi money!" Of course the high volume pros have heard this nonsense hundreds of times.

My first time with a barfine girl in Thailand was a life changing short time encounter with a smart athletic fuck bunny. Me at the door with a 1000baht note: "Here honey, here is some taxi money!"

Bargirl: "It must be a big taxi."


When I was a child I participated in fine arts. I had talent. There was a teacher. I painted with oils, drew with charcoal sticks, and used pastel chalks to draw flowers. At University I got a degree in Art History. And in the last 35 years it is aesthetics and the appreciation of art that has been one of the threads that has held my life together. I see differently than most people. I see more. Long ago I decided that none of the works of man could compete with a woman when it came to a work of art. I believe women are living works of art. I worship then as works of art. No bit of statuary or painting or architecture or craft can compete with a woman's impression on me.

I mention this as a prelude to something that happened to me the other day. In response to a submission that I had sent in to a web site that detailed some of my contacts with women of a sexual nature I got an email from an educated erudite knowledgeable man in which he referred to me as a whorist. I immediately emailed back to him and told him that I took offence at being labeled a whorist. A whorist to me is a word and a description that is negative and has negative connotations about the person. It brings to mind a man who is only interested in his needs and his wants. There is no feeling of partnership or appreciation. Just needs met and money exchanged. The commerce of sex. Whores and whorists.

When I pick up a woman and take her back to my hotel room her pants always drop faster than a French border gate. That is not what I want. I often make them get dressed again. Then I take both of their hands in mine and hold them at a distance and just look at them and smile. I appreciate them. They are works of art. This is always a surprise to the girl. It has never happened to her before. They have never been appreciated just for their beauty and their charm and their femininity and their personalities and their smiles and their laughs before. When it dawns on them that I appreciate them, their faces light up like the sun. Sometimes there is a partnership. I always try. It is what I always want. My dream is never a sex dream that only includes me. I dream of love. Love takes two.

So I am not a whorist. I am a worshiper. When I reached puberty my artistic ability fled as the hormones rushed in. But I never lost my appreciation for beauty. Thai women to me are living works of art. I worship them.


Every six months for eleven years. It adds up to a lot. A lot of relationships. Nine days to five weeks every six months for eleven years at an average of two love affairs per day. I know I would have been better off if I had spent the last eleven years in the arms of a woman who is now shaped like a bowling ball and has a mustache; but this is the best I have been able to do with my life. Please pity me. And never once had a girl stolen baht from me! A perfect record. The reason is because I am a man with a plan. I never let them see my wallet. As soon as I enter the room the wallet disappears. When they are not looking it gets stuffed under some clothes or stashed behind a piece of furniture. I don't need the wallet. The reason I don't need the wallet is because all of my bargirl money is in the window curtain. Every hotel window curtain has a big hem on the bottom. A chain usually lays in the bottom of the hem to give the curtain shape. This is where the bargirl money goes. As soon as I check into a room I cut the stitches on the curtain hem for about six inches and that hem pocket becomes the bargirl money safe. Bargirls and maids will never see it. Perfect. I put in three 100baht notes folded up together, one 500baht note, and one 1000baht note. I am covered for any love commerce needs.

One night on my way to Walking Street in Pattaya to pick up Nom I saw a freelancer with long legs, high heels, long black hair, pink bikini outfit, and dark dark skin. Electrifying! If it was daytime birds would have been falling out of the trees. I walked up to her, smashed my hands up to the sides of my head and started moaning and staggering around in front of her. OK, I'm not subtle. Sue me. The pink bikini top and bottom against the dark dark skin was dick hardening. A siren call a deaf man would hear. She was a ready teddy but I had to go pick up Nom. So many women. So little time. But who should I stumble across at eleven the next morning? You guessed it.

After the deed Thai women always go to the bathroom. This is as reliable as prunes ripping through old ladies. That's when I get the money from the hem in the window curtain. But this dark skinned wonder didn't go to the bathroom. So I ended up standing with my back to her fishing money out of the window curtain. I was a little nervous about this but what's the worry? Hadn't we just shared primal intimate personal feelings of love and loyalty? There was a 1000baht note and three 100baht notes in the hem. I took out the three 100baht notes and at the door gave her the 'taxi' money. But between the time I fished the money out of the curtain and the time I gave her the money at the door there was a lot of moving around in the room. She was dressing. I was dressing. Etc. And I wasn't watching her like a bird watches a canary in a cage. After all, hadn't we been lovers? I believe in love!

Three hours later I was at the curtain again (I try to keep busy) and the remaining 1000 baht note was gone. SHE GOT ME.

Stickman's thoughts:

Interesting thoughts, as always.