The Brokenman is finally repaired Chapter 2 “A Mongering no more”
In chapter one I gave account of my seven day sojourn of sensual skulduggery in the salacious sois of Sukhumvit, my MONGFEST 08.
I also dropped the bombshell that at the end of that week I went and got myself married to my old friend Nat who was my first Thai girlfriend back in 2003.
I probably owe some sort of explanation as I know I have a couple of regular readers who enjoy the schizophrenic counterpoint of my tales. The self deprecating despair of my life in Blighty, totally devoid of female comforts contrasts with the exhilarating experiences I encounter when in Thailand.
One wonderful chap Peter who writes to me from Qatar refers to my “rosy cheeked capers” which I feel sums up the tenor of my submissions quite succinctly.
My nuptials were certainly a surprise to my oldest Bangkok pals Phil and Union Hill as I did not tell even them of my intentions. Phil has taken an almost fatherly interest in my welfare for some five years and first introduced me to the pleasures of Suhkumvit and Sin city for which I am eternally grateful. I believe Union Hill had his suspicions whilst another pal Materialsman had worked it out from the hints I made in preceding submissions.
Much as I enjoy my biannual visits to the kingdom and delight in the friendships I have made, I am acutely aware it is only 4 weeks of the year; the remaining 48 weeks living in the UK are purgatory for me.
I often joke I have been used as a bench mark for dejection and gloom. I am told the Samaritans have used me in their counselling service. Operators are trained to inform potential suicide attempters it doesn’t matter how low you feel, it could be worse, you could be living like Brokenman in West Bromwich.
It has also been suggested my failure to attract western women is the result of my own inadequacies and being a social misfit who has failed to keep pace with the changes in society. This may well be true but the fact remains I am totally invisible to women when I go out and my four year dalliance with internet dating has yielded only frustration at the pretentious profiles and unreasonable expectations of the British women on the sites. I feel an irrational anger on seeing the profiles of 48 year old women who specify a man 6’6” tall aged 30 to 45. In order to preserve the last remnants of my dignity and self esteem I had given up on western women some time ago. I could just about tolerate the six months of celibacy I suffer in between my Thailand trips but the total absence of a touch, smile or any female attention was becoming beyond my endurance. Living and working in Thailand was not a viable option for me at present and at 52, time was not on my side. Continued prevarication was also no longer an option, I needed to act.
I have received some wonderful advice and support from fellow Stickmanites over the past few years. Recently Lookpapa suggested I either make arrangements with a high class hooker in the UK or import a woman from Asia to live in the UK with me. I had not seriously considered the latter option for some time. I was acutely aware of the not insignificant problems involved in bringing a Thai girl back to the West. However given my situation it was an option that deserved serious consideration. I decided to focus my resolve to this purpose. I was so eager to alleviate my loneliness I was even willing to forsake my mongering.
In the past three years I have been slowly gaining a circle of respectable and interesting Thai lady friends. They include civil servants, nurses, office girls and teachers who I often arrange to meet for dinner at some point on my visits to the Kingdom. I consider these episodes as legitimate dates and they break the routine of my customary mongering with bar girls. I have maintained regular contact with about eight of them.
But being practical I had 4 realistic candidates to plight my troth. Annie my retail angel from Ayutthaya with the unfeasibly long legs is unquestionably delightful but I had doubts about her settling in UK. Jenny my yellow shirted government bureaucrat from Rayong is one of the most graceful and elegant ladies I have ever met. She certainly had the requisite intellect and with her sister resident in England I had no reservations about her ability to thrive in the UK. But I feel I didn’t yet know her well enough. Anna my University lecturer from Ubon would certainly adapt admirably to the UK and probably use the opportunity to do her PhD at a local University. My principle doubt was I believe she is still looking for a young and handsome stud.
Then there was my old friend Nat, I could imagine her being adaptable and resourceful enough to flourish in the UK. If I was honest she was the only one I cared enough about to seriously envisage spending the rest of my life with. She is now quite matronly but she is affectionate and highly intelligent with a well-developed sense of humour. She is enthralling and infuriating in equal measure. No one has ever enchanted me like she does. After four years we have gone beyond infatuation and developed our affection from a friendship which has matured into an enduring love. I am certain she feels the same about me.
My only concerns were her possible reluctance to give up her current comfortable lifestyle and the ubiquitous issue with Thai girls of supporting the family. With a strong aversion to joining the institute of farang patrons I had always declared I would only marry a Thai girl if she was an orphan.
I pick up the story again of the second week of my Thailand trip on the Wednesday that was our wedding day. We take a taxi from the Amphur at Sathorn back to Sukhumvit. We take our first lunch as a married couple in Bully’s (I need the protein from a big steak) and reflect the whole procedure from entering the British Embassy to collect my affirmation to leaving the Amphur was completed in about three hours.
That evening we have dinner in the Huntsman pub at the Landmark Hotel and listen to the excellent Philippine band that has played there for years. On the way back I suggest a quick visit to the Angelwitch, she humours me by going in for one drink but I can tell she is not impressed.
The next day we check out of the Mothership and make our way to Don Muang airport to catch the flight up to Chiang Mai. The flight was short and passed with Nat asleep with her head on my shoulder. I recall when I mooted to her the possibility of marriage and living in the UK on my last visit in November, I was surprised by her reaction. She immediately answered “Yes for sure as long as you are serious and have thought it through”. She laughed and said she always knew I would ask her one day. She felt it was her fate from the first time we met but did not think it would happen for other five years. She thought it would take that long to get the mongering out of my system (she actually called it jao chu, being a butterfly). She also confessed she would have preferred me to live in Thailand with her but fully understanding that my job was there was willing to live in the UK with me.
We arrived at Chiang Mai airport and I had to admit I was in new territory. She had booked us into the Centara on Loykroh Rd which was a very impressive hotel. The room was spacious and well appointed. In keeping with it being our honeymoon suite there were rose petals on the bed arranged in the shape of a heart. This prompted the romantic streak in her and she forced her carnal attentions upon me.
Of the 70 or so women I have been intimate with in my life Nat is without doubt the most passionate. She is sometimes hard work and takes some warming up but once turned on she takes some keeping up with. I often joke to her she is like a classic car, difficult to start up from cold but once the engine is running the performance is impressive and the ride is exhilarating.
That evening Nat had arranged for us to go to a Kantoke dinner. It was a pleasant enough experience sitting eating on the floor. I was amused when presented with the puffed up pork skins which is apparently a particular Chang Mai delicacy. Back in the Blackcountry (the home of proper Pork scratchings that break you teeth and clog your arteries), the delicacy I saw at the Kantoke we call pork crunch which is a poor man's scratching and it is what tightwads give to women and children in pubs. An American couple sitting nearby asked me what it was. I explained that it is reputed that one can eat everything on a pig with the exception of its squeal. This delicacy is in fact the solidified squeal cooked by deep frying. They smiled but I don’t think they believed me.
Following the meal we are entertained by a troupe of rather pretty girls dressed in ethnic costume performing a series of traditional dances. To my shame I am somewhat sceptical about these “traditions”. The country dances put on for tourists look the same whether you are in Tunisia, Turkey, Thailand or Timbuktu. In particular the final dance (where they invited audience participation) was without doubt the Lambeth Walk (from a 1930s musical “Me and my girl”) a dance beloved of Cockney pearly queens and other London miscreants. I suspect in the dim and distant past some English wag was involved in inserting this into the programme as a personal joke.
I know this is an alarming admission having just married a Thai lady but I get the dreadful realisation I don’t really give a toss about what passes for Thai culture. The Thais are so like the bleeding French who are also chauvinistic about their cuisine and culture to the point of xenophobia. I feel there are no discernable unique Thai traditions other than fabrications to suit whatever circumstances work to their advantage.
In fairness one or two British traditions that pass as culture do not bear close scrutiny. Have you ever come across “Morris Dancing?” This involves a bunch of hairy arsed middle class bearded Jessie’s prancing around in stupid costumes with floral hats and bells on their trousers tapping each other with bits of wood. It also entails singing inane little ditties like “when will I see my willy again”. We are talking seriously suspect homoerotic behaviour here.
Last year my solicitor mate Kevin and I gatecrashed a networking meeting organised by one of the high street Banks. We had satiated ourselves on the free beer, free food and ogled all the business suited tottie well before it was discovered we were not invited. But as atonement we had to sit and socialise with the Bank manager and his assistant for what seemed an eternity. During the conversation the bank manager divulged that he was member of a troupe of Morris Dancers. I was aghast that he openly admitted it. (Would you trust your money with a bank manager who came out of the closet unprompted like that?). It is like a monger addressing an evangelistic feminist rally and explicitly detailing his activities as a sex tourist.
My mate in an attempt to appear interested mentioned he had recently seen a Morris troupe perform at a fete in Sedgley.
“Oh them!” he ejaculated “they dance in the Morris Conference, my group are in the Morris Guild “.
Kevin who is accustomed to performing in Court continued straight faced and suggested “so is it like the difference between Rugby Union and Rugby league?”
“Yes exactly!” he exclaimed “but we do not have anything to do with them from the Morris conference, they are bunch of poofs and Nancy boys!”
I swear you could not make it up.
The Kantoke finished we are returned to the Centara hotel by minibus and take a stroll to the nearby night market. I am amazed at the volume of decent quality counterfeit stuff available at prices that appear much lower than Bangkok. After an hour or so I am all shopped out and in need of a beer so we repair to the rather pleasant cocktail bar of the hotel. We sit in cosy seats listening to an attractive chanseur with an agreeable voice struggling to deliver her song against the impediment of her musician’s egos. She finally got them under control and made a nice job of some speakeasy classics.
Sitting with my young wife’s head on my shoulder listening to some gentle music in comfortable surroundings and a cold beer in front of me I decide it does not get any better than this.
The next morning Nat arranges a tuk-tuk to take us around the city to get a general impression of the place. I am not too surprised when after 20 minutes our destination is a shopping mall. Whilst she engages in what I vainly hope is merely window shopping I take a coffee break in Starbucks.
I recall last November when I disclosed my concern about her giving up her current lifestyle. I also reminded her I was a man of modest means and could not be expected to support her extended family.
She had obviously anticipated this issue knowing my disinclination to become a member of the institution of dumb farang patrons and enlightens me. She had got the family transport business back into shape. They had a contract with a Japanese company to ferry workers to and from their factory in the Bangkok area which employed her youngest brother and the husband of her middle sister. A franchise for a bus route in the Udon area kept her daft eldest brother in gainful employment. They were all paying their fair share to support their mother. She had even got her youngest sister fixed up with a young Japanese company man although she confessed knowing Su she did not hold much faith in her ability to retain him.
As for her personal situation the construction project at Siracha was coming to an end. This marked the end of her usefulness to her employer and her delusion that he would leave his UK based wife for her. As to her own projects, amid an international banking crisis squeezing credit globally she did not consider she would obtain capital to develop the parcels of land she had. She had acquired this land at a low price so she could afford to sit on it until the economic climate was more favourable. She felt there was never a more opportune time for us to start a new life together in the UK. “And for sure” she added with a smile “you aren’t getting any younger”. I could not fail to be impressed by her pragmatic attitude.
It would appear circumstances suited our mutual situations and purpose.
I apologise if I sound a little calculating about the practicalities as if completing a process of due diligence. I do not mean to, in truth I am completely besotted with the girl, when I am with her my heart sings. In turn I make her smile and always make her feel she is the most cherished person in the world.
That evening I had arranged to have dinner with my old friend Dr John and his family. He has lived in Chiang Mai for some 8 years and works for the Thai government at the metals research institute. We have been pals for 20 years through the foundry industry and a mutual interest in education. Invariably John will come down to Bangkok to meet me when I visit the kingdom. He is a fascinating chap and one day I will write a submission about him.
He collects us from our hotel and conveys us to his house in a gated community in the suburbs. John had met Nat before but I had not met John’s family. His wife is a strikingly beautiful woman in her late 30s and his two young daughters delightful and well-mannered. We have dinner at a lovely restaurant some way out of town next to a lake from which we catch a pleasant breeze. As always John and I have much to talk about and our wives get on famously, they are like long lost sisters by the end of the evening.
In my previous eight trips to Thailand I had never ventured outside of Bangkok other than my customary pilgrimage to Pattaya. This trip to Chiang Mai was the result of Nat’s resolve to show me more of Thailand. On the Saturday morning Nat arranged a trip with a local tourist agency determined to continue my education. We are driven up into the mountains; our first destination being a hill tribe settlement. It was interesting enough I suppose but my overriding observation was that these people allegedly live isolated in a forest surrounded by trees yet make their houses out of corrugated steel sheet. Maybe I am too much of a cynic; Nat loved it especially dressing up in the bizarre traditional costume of these people for a photo opportunity. Her enquiry “do I look fat in this costume?” was met with “no my love you are fat already”. She laughed but I knew I would pay dearly for this as the words left my lips.
Our next port of call was the impressive Doi Sutep temple. With its hilltop location the views over the city are panoramic and breathtaking. I realised this was the first temple I had visited since Nat took me to Wat Arun in November 2003. My friends and family have remarked that despite frequent visits to a land famed for its temples my photo collection did not possess a single image of a temple. It has been suggested that all one could discern from my four years of photo taking is that Thailand equates to the inside of a Nana hotel bedroom and the traditional costume of Thai women seems to be a West Bromwich Albion shirt (small youth size).
We returned late afternoon to Loykroh Rd and I was looking forward to an early beer but I am dragged by Nat to a photographic studio were I am dressed in traditional costume as a Thai warrior for one of those staged photo sessions. I imagined I looked rather manly until I actually saw the final photos. I looked a prize Pratt. It was evidently penance for my earlier comments about her portly appearance. Those guys who live in the west who still think we go with Asian women because they are meek and subservient has never met my Nat.
We took dinner at a pleasant restaurant not too far from the hotel. Over coffee Nat informed me she wanted to do some shopping in the night bazaar later but asked me if I would mind if I did not accompany her. Somewhat bemused she explained that with me with her the traders gave her farang price and she could not get the deals she wanted. Without the encumbrance of me she could get down to the business of serious haggling.
“But what am I to do on my own my sweetest?” I enquired to which she replied “maybe you can find a bar for a few hours”.
Popping a lemon from her drink into my mouth to keep the smile off my face I said "If that is what you want my love I do not mind sitting quietly in a bar somewhere but what time do you want me to be back?”
With a look that clearly indicated she had my full measure she retorted
“Don’t be any later than 01.30”.
I set off down the Loykroh Rd road to an English style pub I had noticed earlier. On my way I passed a side Soi with a group of about 14 or so beer bars which I noted for a look at later. The English bar was a disappointment full of young guys sporting the red shirts of Manchester United and Arsenal which meant they were all Londoners. This also meant that I wouldn’t get a decent conversation about football as generally the glory hunting fraternity that follow teams like this know less about football than even a dingle fan. I take a seat at the bar but am made to feel decidedly uncomfortable as I am clearly not a regular.
I drink up and repair to the 14 bars around the corner. They remind me of bars in the least salubrious areas of Pattaya but without the sense of fun. Every bar is identical with no distinguishing feature or sense of individuality. One questions the business model that would prompt 14 identical boring bars in a single Soi. I take a beer in what seems the liveliest bar (everything is relative), even this bar is like attending an undertakers carnival. I ask one of the few girls who looks like she is from the Isaan if it is always like this and if there were any Go-Go bars in the city. She informed that yes it was always like this, and yes there was one Go-Go bar by the name of Foxy Lady.
I instruct a tuk-tuk driver to take me to aforesaid Foxy Lady with all good speed and don’t spare the horses. With my experience of the salacious Sois of Suhkumvit and the wild ways of Walking Street, Foxy Lady was disappointing. About the size of a small Soi cowboy bar there was three overdressed light skinned young girls dancing on the stage. Two of them were clearly bored and the other as drunk as a drayman’s nag. She continually climbed off the stage to make incoherent remarks to the one or two customers there.
After a reasonable time to let me take the skin off my beer I am joined by a hostess in her 30s and quite attractive. She wraps herself around me and I let her do her job of prizing lady drinks out of me. With nowhere to go I relax and yield to her tender ministrations. The girls of Chiang Mai are lighter skinned and their features are more oriental than the native Bangkok females but no less pleasing to the eye. For purely academic research purposes I enquire about the prices for short time and long time. I am quoted Bt1500 ST and Bt2500 LT just a little higher than Pattaya and less than Bangkok. I stay an hour or so but conclude that whatever the delights and attractions of Chiang Mai the nightlife is not one of them.
I return to the Centara and my wife well before my pass out had expired.
On Sunday we check out of the Centara I am pleasantly surprised that the cost of this impressive hotel was about the same as I pay at the Nana. We fly back to Don Muang where Nat leaves me and takes a taxi back to Chonburi for a parents' evening at her son's school. Her son is 16 and attends one of the best schools in Chonburi. He is a courteous and hardworking lad and had just been elected school captain so Nat did not want to miss the opportunity to make face and bask in the reflected glory. She intended to return to me in Bangkok the next day but I suspected she would stretch it a couple of days. As I travelled by taxi back to the Nana hotel I wondered what on earth I could do in Bangkok alone for two days (Answers on a postcard please).
That evening I meet up with Phil in Booza bar on Soi 7/1. I had phoned him about my nuptials and he offered me his sincere congratulations as only a true pal does. We repair to Soi cowboy and take up our customary positions in the Tilac. We are joined by Bangkok Barry who having had dinner with me the previous week is dumbfounded by the news of my marriage. We stay a while in the Tilac chatting with a few delectable damsels then repair to the Rawhide. When Phil and Barry left I think I went to the Long Gun then later Suzy Wong’s and Sheba’s but all I can recall is sitting outside the Tilac my head spinning.
For a fleeting moment I wonder if I have been drugged but realise I had hardly eaten anything all day and figure the San Miguel lights I had been drinking are a higher alcohol level than I thought. I quickly eat some street food and a kebab to try and slow the absorption of alcohol. Feeling slightly more alert I get to my feet. The next thing I remember is standing in the middle of the Nana Plaza with no recollection of how I got there. Even in my inebriated condition I comprehend the danger of my situation and somehow make my way back to my room at the Mothership. I awake the next morning surprisingly refreshed with body and wallet intact but conscious of how lucky I was and determined not to repeat it.
On Monday evening I meet up with Jodi and BKKSW in the Golden bar as arranged. I had corresponded for some time with Jodi through our mutual passion for classical choral music and I am pleased to believe we have become friends. I must also report that she is a real babe. With the perfect balance between western sophistication and Asian modesty she is the very epitome of the ideal Thai girl that guys (like me) who are smitten with jasmine fever are constantly seeking. However I suspect that he will have to be someone very special to win her affections.
After a quick drink we repair to the Bus Stop for dinner.
BKKSW is nothing like his persona on Schoochers and I found him to be a charming and extremely personable fellow. I sense that he had some difficulty understanding my Black Country accent but this was no hardship as I generally talk too much and only half of my ramblings make any sense anyway. I will probably receive some criticism for this opinion but I must declare that having now met him I am inclined to believe the often outlandish claims of his success with women. Although not particularly handsome I can well imagine many western women would find his boyish charm and winsome cheeky smile quite endearing when he was younger.
Dinner concluded Jodi declares that she has never been inside a Go-Go bar. So BKKSW suggests a visit to the Angelwitch to rectify this and augment her education. On seeing we enter, Dave the Rave dances attendance on us and we are directed to the prime seats in the house. We settle in and watch the show. Jodi enters into the spirit and clearly enjoys the experience and the spectacle.
She confides that since returning to Thailand from her years in the west (despite the status and respect a PhD and her current post conferred), her mother still treated her like a teenage girl. She was particularly amused that her mother expected her to be home and in bed at 8.00 pm. When I enquired how she had arranged tonight, she laughed and said she had informed her mother she was out with friends and would be home very late. The words had hardly left her mouth when she receives a phone call from her mother asking her where she was! It was around 10.30. Jodi’s huge smile of amusement and exasperation would have illuminated a small auditorium. With an air of resignation she declared she would have to take her leave to keep the peace.
When she and BKKSW left I repaired to the Mandarin just in case I was missing anything (I wasn’t). I then take a jaunt to Playschool on the off chance my Ayutthaya angel from the previous week was there (she wasn’t) so I return to my room to find my Nat had arrived and was dutifully waiting in bed for me.
After a late and leisurely breakfast we take a stroll to the Jewellers at the nearby Ploenchit centre to collect the wedding/engagement ring we had ordered the previous week. I had insisted she had a modest western style ring with a solitaire rather than a piece in the ostentatious tasteless style so beloved of Asian womanhood. On reflection the latter option may have been cheaper as the one I helped her choose cost more than my car. Mind you if you actually saw my beat up old Mondeo you would not be particularly impressed by my statement. But she was absolutely ecstatic about it so despite my frugal inclinations it was worth it.
On leaving the jeweller's Nat suggested we take a Thai massage in the parlour next door. This was clearly a proper respectable massage establishment not like the rub a tug places I usually frequent. Thinking this would be a novel experience I agreed. It was pleasant and quite invigorating and I am proud to say with my wife in the adjacent cubicle I did not crack a stiffy during the proceedings.
With considerable brownie points accrued that day I am let off the leash later that afternoon to meet up with Phil in the Booza bar on Soi 7/1 with the promise I would return for dinner with her around 8.00.
Phil had arranged to meet up with Martin (name changed to protect his modesty) who had just arrived in Bangkok again. Although I hope he will eventually write a submission to stickman about his experiences, I take this opportunity to give you the readers digest version of his story.
Martin wrote to me last year asking my advice as he intended to make his first trip to Thailand in October. I sent him my newbies guide to mongering and effected email introductions to Union Hill and Phil the two best guides to the nightlife one could wish for.
Almost on arrival on his first evening they collect him and take him to Soi Cowboy. At the entrance to the Tilac, before they had even entered the bar he begins chatting to a pretty little minx, immediately barfined her and whisked her away to his hotel. This is the last that Union Hill and Phil see of him; he fell for her big time, took her to Phuket and other than the first hour of his arrival was inseparable from her. He returned to his teerak again over Christmas, this is the Thai girl friend experience big time. He continues to correspond with me and is delirious with happiness over his time in the Kingdom and is absolutely besotted with his lady.
He arrives at the Booza bar at 5.00 with his sweetheart in tow. She is a sweet little poppet very petite and delightful but she certainly did not want her Martin too long in our company or under our disorderly influence and after one beer dragged him away ostensibly for something to eat.
Phil and I make our way to Soi Cowboy but couldn’t persuade any taxi to take us from Nana BTS to Soi Cowboy which was very strange. So we hop on one of the new buses. We have an hour or so in the Tilac then I return to the Nana hotel. I am back at 8.00 as promised which surprises Nat who is indulging in that favourite pastime of Thai women; sleeping. We go out for a quick bite but by 9.30 she is ready for bed and suggests I go out for a beer on my own.
Never one to need asking twice I repair with all good speed to Nana Plaza and have a few beers in a couple of the bars on the top floor. Although on previous trips I have patronised Soi Cowboy more than Nana Plaza this visit being able to enjoy a cigarette in the bars of the Nana Plaza was a definite attraction for me. I eventually make my way to Playskool and I am delighted to see my little angel from Ayutthaya on stage. I immediately call her to join me. She does but although she is polite and attentive she acts as if she has never seen me before. After buying her a couple of drinks I get an unnerving feeling I can not quite put my finger on. My curiosity is resolved when another girl comes and sits beside me, throws her arms around me and plants a big kiss on my cheek. I look to the girl on my right then look to the girl who has just joined on my left and to my surprise they are identical and I realise they are obviously sisters. My mistaking the one tonight with the one from last week was understandable.
I ask if they are twins they laugh and say no but there is only two years between them. The next hour passed blissfully with my two delightful and identical companions. I am sorely tempted to have one last final fling with these lovely creatures. It would certainly be an appropriate finale to a mongering career to engage in a Siamese waltz with two delightful (almost) identical sisters. But I resist the temptation, I didn’t have two West Bromwich Albion shirts (small youth size) left and oops I forgot I am a happily married man.
I return to the room to find my wife fast asleep and snoring. Yes I am definitely married again.
Wednesday morning we depart to the airport for my midday flight back to Blighty. Nat is accustomed to farewells with me but this time is understandably different. It represents the end of a honeymoon but the beginning of a new phase of our lives. The next time we meet I will hopefully be greeting her at Heathrow airport.
The flight back is full (and no upgrade this time) and it gives me time to reflect. There were many things I usually do I had not done this time. I had not visited the Thermae, Soi 7 Beergarden or the artist bars in Soi 33. Most significant I did meet any of my other respectable ladies and did not make my customary pilgrimage to Pattaya. However it was safe to say I had an interesting, eventful and hopefully productive vacation nevertheless.
In reviewing the past five years it has certainly been an interesting journey. When my wife left me with substantial debts and the wrong side of 48 with limited prospects, it heralded a period of despondency. The instability of 4 jobs in 3 years and a litany of unnecessarily cruel rejections from western women did little to alleviate it.
My trips to the kingdom gradually restored my esteem and self confidence and put me on the road to recovery. Having girls actually smile at you is such a contrast to the experiences in the west and I will always retain fond memories of my encounters with Thai womanhood. The last two years have seen a significant turnaround of my fortunes with a revival of my career and a degree of stability returning to my life. My four year friendship with Nat was a significant factor in my recovery. Having Nat live with me in the UK will complete the process of repair.
It is the end of an era, no more mongering. The Brokenman is finally repaired.
I am asked if I will miss the mongering. The question is valid and it would be dishonest of me to deny it. But to be honest just 40 women in 8 trips does not qualify me as a serious sex monger. I think I was always seeking female affection and attention rather than being a classical sex monger. I was a respectable chap for far longer than I was a sex tourist.
I have made some wonderful friendships particularly amongst the stickman community. I also rediscovered the joy of writing and penned 25 submissions to the stickman site. I had some wonderfully encouraging comments from fellows who enjoyed my ramblings and some good advice from the serious writers.
But all things come to an end and I am conscious I have almost certainly overworked the original premise of my Brokenman stories and probably done it to death. I am acutely aware that readers eventually get bored with constant repetition and I would like to be fondly remembered. The novelty of my idiosyncratic style has worn off and it is probably now time to hang up my pen and quit.
I now have the task of obtaining a visa to bring my little bit of Thailand back to Blighty. I have engaged the services My Thai Visa (who advertise on this site). I am impressed with their professionalism, they feel I have a good case and I am optimistic she will get here before the end of our summer.
I will not repeat the mistakes I made in my first marriage. I will give her dependability, attention and appropriate boundaries. I am confident she will settle in the UK and adapt well. My boys will certainly make her welcome as will the rest of my family and friends. Even my mother is looking forward to bossing a new daughter in law. I also envisage a few mishaps and adventures on the way. With some stability in my life I can take on the world again. My plan is use the next 5 or 6 years to build up my resources to semi retire to the kingdom or at least increase the time I spend there. I have many ideas.
I doubt the salacious sois of Sukhumvit have seen the last of me even if only for a drink with pals and have the occasional unrequited ogle at the girls of the gogos.
I only hope I don’t receive too many death threats from the paramilitary wing of the Morris Dancers’ conference in the meantime.
Good on you. It sounds like you have come through the monger days unscathed and now have a good lady to stand by your side. I know this is not an ending as such, but nice endings like this are what we need more of. Great stuff!