Double Standards

Naturally, I don’t regard myself as a callous monger in the way that other guys are mongers but then maybe some of my attitudes put me into the same category. I’m fairly soft-hearted and in my early years of coming to Pattaya, I tended to
get hurt easily, so, after being stitched up a time or two by girls of my dreams, I did what many wise men in these parts have done and that was to avoid emotional involvement with bar-ladies. So since then it’s been “find ‘em
and forget ‘em” but not, of course, forgetting the other f-process in between!

That approach normally worked well for me but it was put to the test when I met Tukta. Although much of our story may seem boringly familiar, I found, in the end, there was more to her than I had bargained for.

When I first paid the bar for her, I saw her as just another short-time transaction but she soon turned out to be different to the others. For a start, she admitted to being in her 40s but, if she had told me she was 28, I would have believed
her. Great body, classy looks and a smart dresser – a genuine doll. She was a city girl and prior to her divorce had been married for nearly 20 years to a successful businessman in Bangkok. She had worked in the bar for only a couple of weeks
and had a look of sophistication about her that set her apart from her colleagues. The encounter that evening exceeded all expectations and later when she was leaving my room I actually meant most of the things I told her about wanting to see
her again. However, I was going home in a few days so my promises to her went the same way as those I had made to quite a few others; just my worthless contributions to the cumulative mountains of bullshit spouted daily by farang and bar-girl
alike.

It was about 4 months later that I returned to Pattaya and after a couple of weeks indiscriminate bar and go-go crawling I found myself in the vicinity of her bar one evening. I fondly remembered our first encounter and thought a repeat performance
might be mutually satisfying. Sadly, when I sat down and looked around there was no sign of her. But a lady who obviously remembered me from the last time came scurrying over. “Tukta no work bar any more. She finish 2 months”. No
other explanation was forthcoming but I wasn’t overly concerned; there were a couple of cuties that looked promising and I felt sure I could find adequate consolation.

However, I had long since exhausted the vocabulary of one of these ladies and was finishing my second beer when two arms grasped me from behind and when I struggled round there was the beautiful Tukta, beaming as if she had just won the lottery.
It transpired that when she left the bar she had given instructions that if I ever showed up

she was to be phoned immediately. She had indeed got a call and had come running – well, speeding on her motorbike actually! I was pleased and flattered as I’m not exactly Brad Pitt and my advancing years are certainly showing. Needless
to say, we retired forthwith to my room and it was there that I heard the story of her good fortune.

A short time after she had been with me the first time, she had been bar-fined by Mike who, coincidentally, was a fellow countryman of mine, although I didn’t know him. It was his first trip to Thailand and she stayed with him for
5 or 6 days. He had fallen for her in a big way and before leaving told her he wanted her to stop working the bar. Not only was he prepared to support her on an ongoing basis, he offered to set her up in a business. Naturally she jumped at the
opportunity and was now the proud owner of a shop out Naklua way. This had apparently set Mike back about a million baht and, in addition, every month he had been sending her another 50,000. She knew she had been one of the very lucky ones and
that her life had been transformed – by the combined powers of Buddha and Mike. And, regrettably, Mike would only be able to visit her for a couple of weeks each year.

I was duly invited to see the new place and next day when I went there I was impressed. Above the shop, she had a couple of good rooms and the one she used was nicely equipped, western-style, complete with en suite facilities. Naturally,
we tried out the lying down arrangements although I felt more than a little guilty about that, what with Mike being my compatriot and the fact that he had made all this possible and had given her more than I knew I ever would. However, she shrugged
off my concerns “I love Mike because he give me new life. I love you because you and me good together”. So I was easily convinced. We were, indeed, as it subsequently turned out, very, very good together.

At that time, I was usually in Pattaya for 3 months stints at a time and over the next year or so we had an idyllic arrangement. I normally saw her once a week and for the rest of the time I was free to monger around with no questions asked.
However, anytime I felt the urge to fit in an extra encounter she was always available. Usually I would go to her shop and she would cook me a superb meal – she was a great cook. Then she would lock up and we would go out for a few drinks
before heading back to her room again. When I think about it now, I can see that the entire evening was a kind of foreplay and that it was the waiting and the preliminaries that added excitement to what was to come. No money changed hands and
maybe that was why our encounters really felt like lovemaking. The sex was easily the best I had ever experienced – I don’t claim to be the world’s greatest lover – but she seemed to bring out the best in me and, by
the time I was leaving in the mornings, we invariably were both physically and emotionally drained. But sex apart, I think she had genuine affection for me and always when I was going home she would have presents she had made for me or for my
kids, and that always touched me deeply.
Throughout this time I made token protests about betraying Mike. His generous monthly contributions arrived like clockwork and I often told her that I thought she was taking a big chance being seen
out and about with me. If he found out, she risked losing everything.

“You think too much”, was all she would say. And she had no hesitation in strolling with me down soi 8 or along Walking Street or about dancing cheek to cheek in Bamboo Bar.

One night she suggested we go to the music bar/restaurant at the junction of Third Road and Pattaya Tai – I think it’s called something like Champ Esan. That was an interesting experience. Up on the stage lots of handsome young
guys in flashy uniforms were dancing and singing. I thought they looked a bit effete and enquired if they were gay. “No, no”, she explained, “they go with ladies. When farang boyfriend give money to Thai lady to stop work,
if she not have Thai husband or Thai boyfriend, she can come here and pay money for beautiful boy. Some boys 1000 baht, some 1500 baht, for one night.” That was the first time I had heard of what, I suppose, one could describe as Thai gigolos
but I have since heard quite a few stories about places like that being favourite venues for a girls’ night out. Apparently it is usually only ladies that are having cash sent to them by a farang that can afford to hand out the sort of
money involved. The process is apparently seen as ethically acceptable in that it allows Thai males, as well as the ladies, to benefit from easy farang money.

I was one of only a couple of westerners there that night and I found that, being in what was a local Thai environment, I didn’t have my normal worries about being spotted by someone who might report back to Mike.

As it happened, it wasn’t long after that that I was due to go back home again. Only a couple more torrid sessions, I thought as I arrived at the shop for the weekly date. We ate together, as usual, hardly able to take our eyes off
each other, drooling over what we thought lay ahead. Then it was time to shut the shop and head out for the customary few drinks.

It was about midnight when we got back and as we raced up the stairs to her room I was taking off my shirt and she had unzipped her dress. And then, the bombshell! The light was on in her room and there sitting on the bed, clearly waiting
for her, was a handsome Thai boy who couldn’t have been more than 20. My first reaction was open-mouthed amusement while he just looked at me, equally bewildered. Then she started screaming at him in Thai. He didn’t speak – maybe
he was literally dumbfounded – but he turned to me, wai-ed politely, and was out of the door like a shot! In all my years of dealing with the fairer sex I have never seen a lady so incensed. She was screaming and trying to smash everything
she could lay her hands upon. All of the stuff on her dressing table was swept, Hollywood-style, on to the floor and the sheet that the guy had been sitting on was yanked off the bed. It was an uncontrolled frenzy – far removed from your
famous jai-yen!

Then she tried, through her tears and hysterics, to explain. First she had a story about the guy being a burglar, though she soon realised that my view of him sitting expectantly on her bed didn’t exactly fit with that scenario. So
she then came up with the yarn that he used to live in one of her spare rooms and that he must have been attracted to her and had used the key he once had to gain admittance. The more she protested the more I started to feel that maybe I ought
to be more concerned and, as I realised that the evening was going to be a write-off anyway, I said “I think I better go now.”

I headed down the stairs and she came after me bawling and screaming about losing me and trying to hold me back. There was a motorbike taxi stand across the road and as soon as I was out the door one of the riders, who had taken me home on
previous occasions, sped across. I jumped on and, as we took off, she ran, still screaming, holding the grip behind my seat. It was quiet in the area then and the few people around must have thought that I had just raped her or committed some
similarly unspeakable crime.

It was only when I got to my room that I started trying to try to piece it all together.

Maybe there was a good alternative explanation but the only conclusion I could reach then was that the young guy must have been a regular provider of services to her with his own key to her room but that he had got his appointment date wrong. When we
had gone to Champ Esan I had never for a moment suspected that she might have been a potential customer for a pretty boy. But then I had to concede that she really enjoyed sex and was in a position to pay handsomely for it. And, of course, seeing
me only once a week had never seemed a problem for her.

Before I went back home, I got a couple of letters from her protesting her innocence and with convoluted stories about the intruder, but I didn’t reply. I think if she had told me that the guy was her regular stud I might have been
able to have a laugh about it with her and maybe even accept the arrangement. But at the time I felt that it was best to call it a day – it had been good while it lasted but with the pretty boy incident always there in the

background, things could never be the same again.

But now when I think back on it, I feel that I had maybe been hypocritical and had suffered a bad case of double standards. After all, even if she was buying the guy’s services she was only doing what I do several times a week –
paying for sex – and even then she wasn’t even doing it with my money. I think back to the way her face would light up each time I arrived, about the food and presents she gave me and all those wonderful hours in each others arms
and then I come to the conclusion that maybe I really meant something to her. And then I wonder, if I had a regular lady like some of the other guys I know, could I be sure that she wouldn’t have the occasional tumble with someone else
when I wasn’t around. There’s a lot to be said for not knowing too much, especially around Pattaya.

I have seen her only once since that traumatic parting and she didn’t see me. She was sitting in a restaurant with a farang and she looked bored. He seemed happy enough, though. Maybe he was Mike and maybe he was sitting there thinking
what a lucky man he was to have such a nice, faithful lady.

Stickman's thoughts:

Excellent story. I've heard the stories about these boy bars too, but have never seen one myself.