A Night To Remember

So I went ahead and did it—yes, I fell for a prostitute, despite all the recommendations against doing so. Some guys just have to touch the flame, or better yet, roll around the burning coals. While I recognize a “relationship” with
a bargirl is, at best, doomed, I’ve been enjoying the stories on the website, so I wanted to write in and share my twisted experience.

I have been visiting Thailand two or three times a year for the past five years, and usually stay for one to three months. I’m 44, never married, keep in shape, and have had relationships with non-prostitutes—one was a university
student and the other was an accountant—and while the women were pleasant, I just liked the sex better with bargirls for a variety of reasons. Admittedly, that’s two nice girls vs. a few hundred hookers, so hardly a fair comparison,
but the bargirls usually display a sexual professionalism that I like: they know what they are doing.

I had a relationship with a petite, 30 year-old bargirl for a year and liked her, however she had one temper tantrum too many. The tears flowed, followed by bitter recriminations, but ended with friendly email messages and offers for reunions.
She came back, ready for business.

So, I ask: do the girls ever stop working? Can they ever stop? Can the bar ever be taken out of the girl?

The flip question, of course, is can we ever stop seeing the girls? Some guys can, but right now, I can’t. I’m either too addicted to the thrill of getting “strange” or their “beauty” (which is debatable…).

On with my story….

A year ago, I ventured into a BJ bar in Pattaya. A girl outside asked me what I wanted, I responded, and she led me by the hand to the upstairs bar with the half-moon cut-outs. Her service was very good—so good, in fact, that my heart
felt like it was going to explode out of my chest—with lots of slurping, sucking, smacking, and stroking. Goodness! I gave her a generous tip and was ready to enroll in the bar’s fan club.

I visited the bar a few more times and saw different girls. They were all pretty good.

Then I met one that I actually liked to talk with; I’ll call her “Pa.” Her English was OK, she had the standard petite body (4’11”, 95 pounds) and, at 31 years, she was older than most, but I liked her maturity
and easy smile. Additionally, Pa’s technique was the best—I had never experienced such pure happiness and orgasmic pleasure—so I saw her a few times. From such moments a dysfunctional relationship was born, and when I returned
in August 2004, I barfined her for a month. Later, the loving emails began, and I was hooked.

In December, I came for a five-week stay, and she invited me to stay in her beauty shop that had a bedroom in the back. I liked staying with her and felt a domestic tug in my heart. It was comfortable and even “romantic.” For
Christmas, I gave her a 10,000 baht gold bracelet. Hey, it’s Christmas, I reasoned, even though I knew I was sinking in deeper.

During our conversations, Pa stated that she wanted to quit the bar. “Good idea,” I responded, “Why not today?” She answered, “I have to pay 5,000 dollar.” Huh? My puzzlement was finally solved: she
had borrowed $5,000 (about 200,000 baht) from the bar and had built her parents a house out in, naturally, Issan.

Ever the logical, clueless Western guy, I asked, “Well, why not pay off the debt? Do you have any money saved?” “Not want. If I pay, I don’t have any money left. How eat, how live?”

I began to feel sorry for her. Working in a BJ bar has to be one of the lowest occupations, but what’s a girl to do? She must, I thought, really hate going there and doing what she does. Oh sure, she was happy and sweet with me, but
I’m a semi-decent guy wearing a clean shirt. She must, I decided, dislike what she does, yet how else can a woman make a living in this rotten town? (Actually, as we all know, there are other occupations, just none that are as easy or as
lucrative.) Maybe I should help her out…?

I discovered that she had 100,000 baht in savings. The gold around her wrist and neck was probably worth 50,000 B, her monthly bar salary was 4,000 B, and I was paying her 1,000 B/day. Working at the beauty shop, her day job, probably brought
in 100 B/day. I have heard of some people actually paying their debts, so the notion of digging into her finances didn’t seem too crazy. I had $5,000 available, but I was thinking of using it for another greedy person: me.

During my stay, the phone rang every week, and she chatted with an American boyfriend. She told me that he visited Thailand 2—3 times a year, stayed for 4—5 days, 40 years-old, and was a big spender. He was chubby and smoked,
but a nice guy. She showed me the single photo of him and explained that love wasn’t part of the relationship. He couldn’t marry her, since his parents were against it. She seemed relaxed about it.

I returned back to the US, and, to my surprise, received an angry email from Pa, complaining that money I had paid (1,000 baht/day x 35) wasn’t even enough to cover her rent. Her email explained that I should “forget about her.”

I called her and we had a friendly chat. “I yahk yahk too much, don’t worry,” she explained. Fine.

I called again next week. The boyfriend, she said, had paid her bar debt of $5,000. He had saved money for a year and sent the sum to her. “I no work bar.”

Wow. I guess that’s good news. Um, does that mean we’re through? Of course not! Pa said we could still see each other. Seems like $5,000 doesn’t buy much loyalty these days, but I didn’t argue.

Still, I wondered: did she really stop working? Does she have a husband? Time to launch an investigation, so with a click on the computer, I asked Stickman for help.

Before the investigation could start, I talked with Pa some more. “I sometimes go to bar,” she said. “Why?” “Not have much money. No customers in beauty shop. I don’t like, but what can I do? Need
money.” Ah. How does the boyfriend feel about this? “He not say stop work, only here is money to quit bar.” That’s a rather fine distinction, dear, but….oh, never mind.

So, she was back at the bar—sometimes. And the investigation had already been started. Good, maybe I’ll learn something, like she has a Thai husband, or six sponsors, or a baby.

What I learned is that, yes, she had been working at the bar for a year and four months, as she told me, and no, she doesn’t have a sponsor, husband, or kid, but that she was happy to offer her services. As Stick described her, she
was pleased to go upstairs. No grimaces, no hesitation, she was up for it with a smile. She explained to Stick that she doesn’t work there all the time, just sometimes (5 days/week?). So much for her strong desire to quit work.

In February, Pa wrote an email stating that the boyfriend came to Pattaya, offered to fly her parents over from Issan, and, after they drove over, he gave them $500 for spending money. I never knew that such customers existed. He also might,
he claimed, marry her in five years. Five years? That’s quite a stretch. “So,” Pa wrote, “you should forget about me.” Ouch. Not again!

I waited a week, then called. “Gee, Pa, I’ll be in Pattaya in March. I’d love to see you.” And I did want to see her. I had her photos around my house and I missed her. Was I in some competitive battle with her
boyfriend? No, I don’t think so; I just wanted to keep seeing her, too. Plus, she was good. I had done the occasional short-time at bars across town, purely for comparison purposes, and I still liked Pa the best.

We agreed to meet. Two days before leaving, she called. A guy from Norway, who she had mentioned earlier, was in town. “I’m sorry,” she said, “I can’t see you.” “Well, how much is he paying?”
“2,000 baht/day.” “Why don’t I pay you 2,000 baht/day?” “Really? OK, can see you. I lie and tell him I’m going back to my village.” Hey, not exactly a romantic moment, but I felt better,
although a bit miffed at being pushed aside so easily. It’s as if she were a common whore—my sweetie, a whore?

The visit in March was great. Fantastic. I felt happy to be in her arms with her head in my lap. The days were spent sweating up the sheets. We laughed and had fun. In a sweaty, post-coital haze, I heard myself mumbling, “I could give
you $5,000 to give back to the other guy. You know, you could tell him you’re grateful and everything….” She was surprised. “He paid, the first man to help me. I think if you give me money to give to him, he angry.”
How can a woman who routinely lies to her boyfriend and screws other men suddenly develop ethics?

He Norwegian customer called once to say he was returning home early. “Take care.” Her American boyfriend called while we are at a restaurant. Pa lied and said she was in her room. “I lie because he not want me see customer.”
Lying, saving face, and juggling boyfriends was part of her job. I didn’t want to interfere with any of her relationships, so I simply shrugged and wondered how many times I had been lied to.

Our friendly phone calls continued, and I made plans to live in Thailand, starting in May, and stay for eight months. I could conduct my business by the Internet. I had been studying Thai for three years and would take more language classes
in Pattaya. I figured I could arrange a long-term arrangement with Pa. She said that she wanted to get out of Pattaya and return to Issan to set up a beauty shop, and she seemed pretty eager to get out. She could still see me, but only in 1—2
week intervals. She wanted to make a break with her sordid past and stay in the country. That sounded good and noble to me.

Days later, Pa had news. The boyfriend was being transferred from Los Angeles to Hong Kong, so he would only be three hours away by plane. He was coming over for three weeks—a much longer visit than usual—starting in May. “You
should forget about me. I’m sorry, I know you hurt, but I don’t want a problem with him—his friends might see us. He helped me first, so I should care for him.” She had found someone willing to rent her beauty shop
space and she was moving next week back to her village on the Laotian border.

I was sad, since I really liked her, for whatever bizarre reasons. I could see her point: she couldn’t ruin a good thing with the other guy. Still, a guy claiming to marry her in five years seems to be kidding—actually, it sounds
like a stalling technique that I might use. We were polite and friendly on the phone, and I hung up thinking that I didn’t know how, but that I would have to find another girl in Pattaya.

I missed her and thought about her constantly in the next few days. Nobody ever said that desire is a logical emotion.

A day later, she sent a long email, explaining that she liked me and wanted to be friends—oh no, now I’m the dreaded “friend” with a hooker, that really hurt—but she didn’t want to have any problems
with the other guy and didn’t want to hurt me. She also really, truly, desperately wanted to quit the business. She didn’t want to be where she was “before.”

I wrote back a friendly email, then decided to let it rest. Rather than return to Thailand in May, as planned, I’ll go to the Philippines, screw, swim, lift weights, and screw some more. See what happens when I start living in Thailand
and, in late June, give her a call after the other guy has left. I really don’t want to cause her any hassles.

So, my question remains: how likely is she to remain in her village? Will she return to work? Any predictions?

Can a woman with 1.5 years in a BJ bar stay away from the scene? Can a hooker ever remain “committed” to a customer, even a big spender?

Will she be available in June?

If enough people respond, a follow-up submission can be written, although I can’t promise any Club Hombre prize for the most accurate assessment.

Stickman's thoughts:

What a nightmare! I guess you'll be off to Fortune Town yourself, or somewhere similar, to buy the Mrs. a whole host of gifts to make up for the indiscretion!