Stickman Readers' Submissions April 16th, 2014

Two’s Company; Three’s a Party

She was just 41 kg, presentable, thin, firm, childless, tight, and dry. A pretty but not beautiful Khmer-Vietnamese mix, she was in her prime at 26. She could be anyone’s wife. She had been working in the bar for two months before I passed through Phnom Penh.

I paid her first barfine.

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In the dim lights of the bar, which flatter the customers as much as the girls, she exclaimed, “You are as old as my father!” after she asked my age and I told her I was 60. Not a flattering start to business or friendship, but that’s how customer-naïve she was. She had turned down previous barfine requests, being content to earn money from ladies drinks while building up her basic English and probably her courage. I told her I was in town for two more nights and she was free to stay with me or go as she pleased; my pleasant hotel was just around the corner. She could see I was indifferent to whether she accepted my proposition or not.

From my perspective, there were many other bars and in Phnom Penh supply exceeds demand; she was just an intriguing novelty. She told me later that she was waiting for the just the right first customer, perhaps a future boyfriend or a sponsor. She predicted I would be harmless, perhaps due to my age, soft voice, concerned questions, or teetotaling that night. Or perhaps it was my build: although over six feet, I am nearly as trim as she is and we made a plausible couple walking down the street and at riverside cafes. After much laughing and giggling and blessing from her “sisters” in Khmer she felt safe leaving the bar with me.

On the street in ordinary clothes she looked her youthful years but in bed her one-handful Vietnamese microbutt and slender legs made her look like a teenager. Nice. She stayed long time the first night. I think she wanted to see what it was like to sleep with a foreigner, or perhaps how much she would be paid in the morning. However, she made it impossible for me to sleep after we talked, showered (separately, she would not let me in the bathroom while she was in it), and attempted to consummate our love. I couldn’t sleep because every time I opened my eyes those big brown eyes were staring at me. After an hour of peek-a-boo I took an Ambien, kissed her wonderful ass again, and knocked myself out.

Her English was poor, but she managed to explain that I was only the second man she had seen naked and therefore the first barang she ever slept with. She had not had a date or sex for 6 years. She broke up acrimoniously with her boyfriend and decided “to go my own way.” She does not want marriage or kids, and yet she would like a man to “take care of her,” presumably while she continues to go her own way. She didn’t know how many years of education she had had. Her intelligence was normal, but her head was empty. She was an inexperienced, unresponsive starfish.

When she left after breakfast, probably richer than she had ever been—a one-trick pony so to speak—I told her I would like her to return that evening if she wished. I was curious whether the diminutive ice queen would be any warmer the second night. She asked me to come to the bar to collect her as soon as it opened because she would feel uncomfortable going to a hotel unescorted. When I arrived five minutes before opening time she was waiting for me in a full evening gown and heels, her hair freshly done. She looked radiant. It was her 26th birthday! She needed a boyfriend for that special night, and it was me. It was photo time at my hotel with the Canon bounce flash, but, alas, fully clothed.

After our third unorgasmic love-making session in 2 days I told her that I needed to sleep, because I was leaving early the next morning to avoid the heat. This was true. I didn’t tell her that I had unfinished business to discharge because it was my last night in Phnom Penh. At 60 I can no longer orgasm in a condom with a starfish who won’t kiss or caress any part of my anatomy. Youth and impassive acquiescence to cunnilingus are no longer enough to rouse my cock to heights of passion. I need good head, good kissing, and real or feigned enthusiasm to compensate for insensate latex.

So as soon as I sent her off in a taxi I walked over to Club Cyrcee and procured two experienced and very sexy whores. I brought them back to my hotel to finish the job magnificently that my trainee could only start. Then I had a good night’s sleep, alone. Bliss.

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A few days later I emailed her the best of the photos.



Here you are! I especially like photo #5. I felt very special that you chose me to be your first customer. I am in Laos, still traveling. I hope you are well, and happy.


Hello my honey

Thank you so much for all these nice photos from you

I really like it all so much, you are very good at taking the picture

I wish you get a safe trip and good luck always

I miss you so much and i like a lots

I hope you are well

Don’t forget to take good care of your health as well ok

Please you write to me often ok






How are you?

I am back home now. I will always remember our two days together.

I wish I could stay in Phnom Penh but I can’t.

I hope you find only good men in your life.

You must be very selective about men. Many men are liars and will tell you any story.

Some men are good, but most men you meet in bars are no good.

Most women I meet in bars are no good too. Bars are like that.

I hope you can find a job not in a bar, someday. You are very pretty and nice, so maybe you can find something else. Sleeping with men for money is not good.

Please take care of yourself.


Hello dear

Thank you so much for your email and your very good words for me

Yes me too, i feel so sorry that i can’t have chance to meet a very good man like you for long time, the man i wish to be with is you, but i am no lucky girl.

But however i can take good care myself don’t worry and if possible i really need you to take care me

I miss you





You are a strong, intelligent women who takes good care of herself and needs some good luck.

I cannot give you good luck because I am 60. I am too old to be your boyfriend and your husband, but we can talk by email. I can help by telling you what I know about white men. I can answer your private questions if you want. I have lived all over the world; I have been married to white and Asian women and had two girls with the Asian woman, now divorced. I have learned a lot the hard way.

I sincerely hope you meet a good, honest man who will love you as long as you both live. You can find one because you are decent and good.

Your problem is that if you work too long in bars you will change and will not remain decent. Your warmth and sweetness will become coldness and hardness. You can hide 3 months or 6 months in a bar, for example by saying it is a restaurant, but you can’t hide 2 years working in bars. Everyone will know what you did. And most men don’t want an experienced bargirl for a wife. For a short-time or long-time sex partner, sure, but as a wife and lifetime partner sharing a bank account and children, no. So I hope you can find a good man very soon, and get out of the bar business very soon.

The men who come in bars can be decent if they are older, but not if they are younger men. Young white men with good jobs in their 20s, 30s, and 40s have many choices, including white women. They don’t need to come into bars. Many men in their 20s, 30s, and 40s who come into bars are liars or losers or both. They just want hot pussy for a low price. Lots of variety, different pussies every week. They are butterflies. Good for them. Not for you, unless you only want money.

Older men in bars in their 50s and 60s may or may not be honest. Men that age do not have many choices even if they are good men with lots of money. Most white women don’t want older men. Most women in their 50s and 60s are not interested in sex and they usually are wrinkled and fat and unhappy so white men don’t want them anyway. So some older white men come to Asia and look for younger Asian women. If they have no other way to meet Asian women, they come into bars to meet them. The honest ones are not butterflies, they are just lonely. But some older men are butterflies and liars too. They no longer want just one women. They want variety without commitment. Good for them, not for you. You need to decide what you want, and choose the man very carefully.

You are 26 and pretty. Men in their 60s like me are too old for a serious relationship with a women as young as you. The problem is not today; the problem is the future in 20 years when you are 46 and your husband is 80. So don’t waste your time with old men like me, except for working short-times and long-times, if that is what you want while you go your own way. Old men pay well and don’t need much sex. But many don’t want to use condoms either because they can’t come, so that’s a problem for them and for you unless he is your boyfriend. You have to say no like you did with me. No condom, no sex. Period.

Look for an honest man in his 40s, one who has been divorced once or twice and understands a good marriage from his experience. But can you find an honest man in his 40s in a bar? It is possible but unlikely, because if he comes into a bar at that age he probably will be going to bars again whenever he is unsatisfied with you. You can try meeting white men in their 40s on or other internet dating sites, but be careful.

Remember that the longer you stay in the bar, the lower your “market value” will become. You can make a lot of money if you accept bar fines, short-times, and long-times, but your value as a future wife will drop and it will be harder for you to find a good man the right age.

Other issues with older white men are children and where to live. You will want children someday. A man in his 40s can give you a baby. Older men can’t or won’t because they already have grown children, like me.

And if he gives you children, he will probably want to educate them in his country, so you need to be ready to leave Cambodia after the children are born. So he needs to be able to afford to take you with him. So marry a man with a good job. Money cannot make you happy, but no money can make you miserable.

I hope this letter is not too long and too hard for you to read. I hope you find it useful. Take care, I think about you often, and wish I were younger.



I didn’t expect a reply and I never heard from her again. Farewell, darling.

Stickman's thoughts:

I wonder if she will listen to the advice?

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