A Monger No More
For some reason, my mate P was not his usual ebullient self. He had been to Bangkok many times before and we had visited this very bar together on some of his previous visits. On this occasion however, P clearly had something on his mind. I figured that
whatever it was he would tell me when he was good and ready or if it was none of my business he could keep it to himself. Either way, I ignored his pre-occupation and carried on doing what one does when in Soi Cowboy. I theorised that few
of man’s problems cannot be solved by copious amounts of alcohol and naked women.
I already had my beady eye on Number 7. In truth, in this bar I always searched out Number 7 first. She was great and she had a friend who I thought was just as great, Number 33. How pleased I was to see them both dancing which obviously meant neither had been barfined yet. My perverted little mind was hatching a plan to barfine both of these girls and me and P would take them out for a fun packed evening.
Unusually however, P had a look of trepidation in his eyes when I pitched my proposal to barfine these two beauties. He surprisingly balked at the idea. I remember he said something like, “Fooken’ ‘ell UH, them’s man’s work and I’m still pissing Birmingham water!”
I back peddled on the idea much to the disappointment of No. 7 who obviously saw paydirt slipping through her fingers. Meanwhile, P had spotted Dean Barrett sitting on a bench seat behind us and went to introduce himself. I was starting to worry about P. There were naked girls everywhere but he wanted to talk to Dean Barrett! Something was wrong.
Still reluctant to pry, I decided to stick with plan A and ordered more beer. Maybe P was feeling slightly overawed, which is always a possibility when Bangkok’s nightlife rears up in front of you, or maybe he was just jetlagged. Anyway by now, the lesbian show was about to start so maybe this would be the catalyst needed to bring P to life.
Having failed admirably to scrounge a drink off Dean Barrett, P reappeared at my side. He seamed happy enough but his general demeanour remained unchanged. I decided to employ a backstop and paid bar for the leggy No.7 sensing that P was going to jib off early. I told her I’d be back at midnight to pick her up.
At about this point, I remarked to P that maybe a change of scenery would be in order. For a moment he perked up at my suggestion that we visit The Dollhouse. I knew P had a few special friends in The Dollhouse and indeed two them flounced over to say hello to him as soon as we walked in. I noticed that both were the short, brown variety rather than the leggy, statuesque type that he had balked at in the other place across the road. Maybe that was it, I thought to myself, Number 33 being tall and fair skinned just wasn’t his type. We are all different after all.
However it soon became clear that even these little brown daughters of Isaan were not tickling P’s fancy. He bought them a drink and was playful and polite but he was showing no shagging intent whatsoever. I said nothing but remained mildly intrigued.
Then, as I had correctly anticipated, around quarter to twelve P declared himself beat and was going to make his way back to The Nana Hotel alone. He claimed to have enjoyed the night out but the jetlag had caught up with him and he was away to his virgin couch. I arranged to meet him again later in the week, bade him goodnight then sloped off to collect my prize Number 7.
Later that week I met P again as arranged, at Big Dogs. This time we just had a few beers, sat and talked. We didn’t even go inside the Plaza.
P wanted me to know that he had thoroughly enjoyed his mongering holidays in Thailand but now those days were over. He was completely besotted with Thai women and what he really wanted was to marry one and take her home to Farangland. In between campaigns to Soi Cowboy, Nana Plaza and Pattaya, P had all the time been secretly seeking the respectable Thai lady with whom to get hitched. Unbeknownst to me, he had been tracking them down on the internet, apparently. There had been the bank clerk from Khon Khaen and the nurse from Ayudhya and I’m sure he mentioned a mechanic from Sisaket but after what had been a four or five year quest, he had made his choice and settled on The One.
P had met his true Thai love some four or five years earlier on one of his first trips to the Kingdom. They had kept in touch constantly and their friendship had grown and blossomed into true love. P was set to get married this coming weekend and he would have his honeymoon in Chiang Mai. He was deliriously happy.
I was gobsmacked.
“So,” said P, having laid all that on me, “After the honeymoon I’d like to invite you and Mrs Hill to meet my new bride. We can all have dinner together.”
For a nano second I toyed with the idea of substituting my wife with one of my night time acquaintances for this dinner event but I immediately realised that it might be a bit of an insult to both P and his new bride if I turned up to meet his new wife with a go-go girl called Number 7 in tow. I banished that thought and warmly agreed to meet P and the new Mrs P upon their return to Bangkok. I would be on my best behaviour and I would bring my wife.
The evening of P’s celebration dinner came round and me and the misses made our way to meet P and his new bride. I had no idea what to expect and was very pleasantly surprised when P introduced me to Nat. A slightly plump lady probably in her late thirties, she was charming, articulate and very good company. P was positively glowing with pride and happiness and the four of us had a great evening.
Phet returned to Farangland a few days later and Nat followed on as soon as her visa was approved. Phet has told you in his own words what happened after that.
This might not be exactly how Phet himself would recall these events but I drink more than he does and that’s how I remember Phet’s last visit to Bangkok. Sadly, in one respect it looks like we might be seeing him again soon.
It is always interesting to see what happens when a guy settles down or declares himself off gogo girls…and then in time things don't work out. Does he return to what he first knew, or did he really put it behind him?