Cupid, That Motherfuxxer! (Behind the Music)

I’ve been receiving a variety of feedback from readers concerning my submission “Cupid, That Motherfxxxer!”
To further explain. That submission utilized imagery and metaphor to illustrate on the emotional umbilical that many a monger has attached to the bar girls of the trade. In the story I chose to have cupid as the personification of this attachment.
He employs violence as his main method of creating this attachment to represent the heart ripping pain that can occur when this emotional tether breaks. I used myself as a representation of every monger and I had Cupid hunting me in the tale as
a way to express how the threat of emotional attachment lurks around every corner when dealing with these girls. It can ensnare you even when you are not only not looking for it but trying desperately to avoid it. In the story the Thai girls nurture
and protect cupid (emotional attachment) in order to extract whatever it is they want or need for themselves and their families. To those who asked, the literal answer is no. No I was not being stalked by a baby with gun on Walking Street. A majority
of the tale is not real. At least not from a literal perspective. (Though some parts of the submission are indeed real, try and guess which ones)! That submission was just a long winding illustration of mine to press home a point that I was trying
to convey. To iterate on the emotional attachment these girls have with huge number of us. More so a message to those who have just dipped a toe in or have yet to be baptized in the waters of the Thai version of the history’s first career
path. Thailand expats, sexpats, Nana veterans, Cowboy survivors, and Patpong Medal of Honor recipients need only proceed for lack of better things to read.

Back home in the United States I have been sentenced to 10 years to life of marriage and corporate labor, sentences to run concurrently. Solitary has given me a stretch of time to consider these points. For a hooker to keep the hooks deeply
in place, her tools for emotional attachment have to be finely tuned and perhaps more widely used than her tools for physical attachment. Though when used together they can create a finely tuned Issan money grabbing then running machine. This
seems to be so because her target is looking for an emotional fix in a lot of cases.

Whether sitting in a bar beer or an a-go-go we've all often heard the negotiations that sometimes take place in the customer barfine-e transaction. Often times before signing off on the deal he'll state the sex acts that he wishes
to perform upon said girl as well as the acts that he desires for her to perform upon him. “I want to take you straight up the ass first before I perform nasal penetration on you” he'll say. Or he’ll employ the usage
of an egg timer on the nightstand to be sure he gets his 2:1 blow job minutes to fuck job minutes he openly pressed her to agree to while sitting in the bar. In being that specific and upfront about stating his physical wants I believe that a
lot of us are actually trying to create a specific physical situation that will invoke an emotional response within us. We as men just find it easier to forwardly state what we physically want rather than what we emotionally want when it comes
to talking to women, whores or not. How often do you hear negotiations of the emotional sort take place in Nana and such places? How often before taking the girl does the punter openly admit and just come out and state to the girl that he wants
to feel a shot of love with a passion chaser. A mix of personal warmth wrapped in a bit of excitement dipped in lust with just enough touch of guilt so that he can rotate between all these emotions days, months, even years after the encounter.
I wonder what baht figure the girl would respond with. The girls that master this delivery of emotions are the ones with the “Bernie Madoff” like savings accounts built from the invested funds of emotional fraud. I've seen some
of the newer homes up northeast of the country. Seems like the ones built off emotional attachment are a bit larger than the ones built purely off physical attachment…a very unscientific hunch of course!

In the field of anthropology there is a term called the “Sapir-Whorf Hypothesis” which basically links the use of language in a culture to how the culture leads itself and perceives the world around it. The more words a language
has for an object is an indicator of how important that object is to that society. In ways it can be used to explain why in Western society we have so many different terms for money and vagina….or bucks and cunt….or cash and pussy if you will.
It’s also the basis for that old adage of how Eskimos have 13 different words for snow and we only have one. Using this hypothesis I contend that the word “her” is one of the most powerful words in the western romance languages.
Homes have been built for “her.” Homes have been wrecked for “her.” Lives have been both built around “her” and destroyed for “her.” Historically wars have been fought for “her.”
Men have participated in the creation of life for “her.” Men have murdered and have died for “her.” Being forced by poverty and family to peddle “her” young slim ass on the streets of Bangkok compels the
want in some men to save only “her.” “Her” can cannibalize within us the concept of “self,” which happens to be another powerful word in our language set, leaving “self” neglected and forgotten
when it comes to keeping “her” in your life.

An ounce of prevention for some, but a pound of cure for most, for this condition can be found within the submissions and advice on this very site. I really enjoyed and repeatedly read the recent submissions “Here's a Special
News Bulletin” by Occasnltrvlr, and “Wake Up!” by Bababooey. To read their words is like a literary kick to the chest. In their posts I believe that they speak very well to the grand illusion that exists between the men and
the women of the trade. Ironically though, the grander the illusion the girl creates the more real of an emotional connection it can produce, thereby making that connection so entrenched that it stands strong. Even as that grand illusion fades
the emotional connections spawned from that illusion stay rooted and stay real to the punter. Even when the fact finally sinks in that she is a conniving, lying, unfaithful whore he still loves her like she isn’t a conniving, lying, unfaithful
whore. For these situations I would recommend a reading of the very first reader’s submission on this site 10 times and call me in the morning. As real as it may feel, repeatedly giving in to the illusion is not sustainable. It just simply
is not sustainable…..Not sustainable to the men who frequent the trade and neither is it sustainable to the women who ply it. These “upcountry angels,” as I have referred to them previously, are susceptible as well to the mirages
that are located all over the farang oriented entertainment industries in Thailand. The grand illusion that the industry creates monetary security pulls in these girls. The girls then create the grand illusion of love, commitment, and devotion
to the punter in order to chase the monetary security illusion created by the industry. The punter then creates a grand illusion of his own to himself to sustain the illusion that these girls created for him; the illusion that they are the missing
pieces to make him complete. He starts the downward spiral of repeatedly frequenting the industry for his emotional fix thereby feeding back into the original grand industry illusion of monetary security that started it all. Circle of broken life.
Symbiotic. Remove one of these entities, either the industry, the girls, or the punters, and the whole eco-system would starve.

Being confined to solitary in my home country has also made me personally more prone to the emotional wares of these women. I've come to realize that it’s now the only way that I can differentiate between the girls. Sex with many
different women in a short period of time is an equation that eventually simplifies and common denominates to having sex with the same woman many times over as we tend to run the same "offensive plays" in bed as the women come and go.
I tend to more strongly remember how the girl mixed a recipe of emotions within me than I can recall whether I had her right foot or left ass cheek slung over my shoulder, bedpost, toilet, or another bar girl or wherever. At least this is how
I feel at this point in my journey. Maybe others who are at the same point can identify with this. The emotional result can feel like a heavy weighted pendulum that slowly swings between the hope of truth and the realization of the constant lies.
It leaves you wondering which is worse. The inevitable despair once the illusion fades or the inevitable feeling of nothing and numbness you live with if you had never tried at all. That swinging pendulum provides kinetic energy to a cycle; a
cycle that I know for now that I need to break but my cipher keeps moving like a rolling stone. The slightest momentum from the previous failure somehow pushes the next cycle to begin. “Hi, my name is ‘Wai the Dog’ and I’m
a love-addict.” I like to inject it, snort it, and free-base that emotion. I hunt for the emotional high and I always go double or nothing on the next girl when I fail. In a way it’s both a drug and gambling habit rolled into one.
Like having King Kong on your back. When looking back though you’ll always see that the truth always begins at the point where you stopped lying to yourself. Remove emotional attachment and this cycle will terminate.

Not all those seeking the comforts of the P4P variety fall into this category of course. I wrote a Stick submission previously where I referenced a fellow I had met by chance in Nana one night who became my spiritual guide throughout Pattaya.
He is as hard core of a monger that I have met in any country I’ve been in. He has a job that allows him to take every other week off which results in approximately 24 one week sex tours a year. Age mid-30s like myself. His home is devoid
of furniture and pretty much anything else. He doesn’t even bother trying to entertain himself the traditional ways (bars, restaurants, movies) when in at home in the U.S. All money is allocated to spending within each week that he has
off every other week paying for pussy in any country that his compass-like libido lands on. From Argentina to Estonia this guy does not discriminate. He once had a wife that had found evidence of what he was up to while he was away mongering in
South America that particular week. He came home a week later to an empty packed up house with his wife standing in the foyer; his mother-in-law waiting outside in the car ready to drive her daughter away. His wife gave him a simple choice of
staying married to her or to continue his sex tours. Little did she know that he had been playing out this exact scenario in his mind for years and in each simulation she lost that battle. He chose to keep mongering and she chose to not look back.
When he decides to bar fine he does so methodically whether its 1 or 2 or 3 at a time and he never looks back over his shoulder regardless. He has a bullet-proof soul. He competes within the industry illusion and the girl generated illusion but
he dares not create the illusion to himself so there is no cycle. No circle of broken life in his eco-system.

One last point I’d like to make before I lose literary cohesiveness here….Unlike sexual arousal, the need for emotional connection does not go away. As the body gets older and sexual needs and sexual ability fade away, the libido
of the emotional attachment stays healthy and compelling, regardless of the aging process; regardless of time or space. Evidenced by the bar girl stories I’ve heard of girls being bar fined by men pushing 80. Taking the girl back to his
hotel room just so he can hold her tight in his arms as he sleeps. I think Yeats penned it best in his famous poem “Sailing to Byzantium.” In it he remarks that Byzantium is “no country for old men.” Well neither is
Thailand, for all age categories of men for that matter, unless you have the heart to keep your heart beating inside our own chest where it belongs.

Thanks for taking the time to come in a sit for a listen.

Bar fine with protection, both physical and emotional.

Please don’t forget to wai the dog on your way out.