Rule #17: TALK TO LOTS OF GIRLS
“Rule 17?” I hear you say. “Where are all the rest?” Well, they’re in the book (provisionally entitled 48 Rules for Gogo Bars). This series of articles began with a page of rules in the last chapter of Angeles Adventures 2023. I submitted some to this site, expanded with illustrative anecdotes, and a book began to take shape (inspired by Robert Greene’s The 48 Laws of Power), so the rule numbers in this week’s submission refer to the (nearly) finished book.
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I was sitting in Apple Bar in Angeles City one night in November 2019, when this happened:
A young, handsome, Korean guy with a little ponytail came in with his friend. He quickly scanned the stage, and, without sitting down, chose a girl and barfined her within minutes without buying a drink. The girl shrieked with delight and went to get changed. He didn’t even buy a drink while he waited. I guess he will take her to a short time hotel and do the business just as quickly and efficiently (probably bareback) and she’ll be back on the stage again before I have finished my next San Mig Light. I didn’t wait, though. There was nothing doing for me, so I paid my tab, and, on impulse, gave Deborah another thousand (Deborah is another story!) and left.
Well, it worked for the Korean guy, but I couldn’t do it like that. I need to talk to a girl first to get an idea what she will be like between the sheets. Also, and perhaps more important, it’s all part of the fun to talk to the girls and find out about their lives. All of them, apart from the deadbeats (see Rule 18) have an interesting tale to tell, for example, these two waitresses in Viking in September 2022:
I got chatting to two waitresses, Liezel, 19 and Isa, 28. Liezel was dumpy and looked older than her age, but Isa was quite pretty and looked younger than Liezel. They told me that waitresses earn 100 PhP per day (time for a minimum wage in the PI!) Of course, that would be made up by tips, but with so many waitresses in the bar, their share would not be much.
I said, “Why don’t you work in a mall for 400 a day?”
“Need High School diploma,” Isa replied.
Isa’s story was typical of so many women in AC. Her boyfriend got her pregnant, then left her for another woman. Now she was working in a bar to support her daughter. Liezel’s story was something out of the ordinary. Her father, who had worked as a carpenter, was killed in a motorcycle accident, and, as the oldest child, it had fallen to her to support the family. She said she preferred to work as a waitress because she didn’t want to go with men, though she admitted she did sometimes, “If I like him.”
Was that a hint? Hint or not, I didn’t fancy her. If I took either of them, I’d take Isa, but, as it happened, I had another girl in mind, whom I characterised as Miss “Larger-than-average-Filipino-sized-chest” (whose name turned out to be Trixie). Isa was kind enough to bring her to me, and both of them watched (from a respectful distance) while I chatted her up. The larger-than-average-Filipino-sized-chest was even better close up, showcased in a brief bikini top, and she had a pretty face too (when I could drag my eyes away from the cavernous cleavage). Unfortunately, she wouldn’t be pinned down about how long she would stay, which probably meant she would make her excuses as soon as she could. I wanted the company of that larger-than-average-Filipino-sized-chest all night, so, reluctantly, I passed on Trixie and moved on to another bar.
Another girl I spoke to in the same bar, but on a different occasion, told me that it was her first night in the bar. Now, “nookie rookie” is my favourite dish, and I was suddenly very interested. However, as her tale unfolded, I changed my mind. She told me that she had worked in AC three years ago when she met her Australian boyfriend and that they had lived in Australia for a while, but that they had just split up. There were tears in her eyes as she said it – and I felt for her. I can imagine the thrill of her meeting her knight in shining armour and being taken to a first-world country. By contrast, the let down must have felt like the end of the world. Now she was back to square one with it all to do again – but not with me. One of the reasons I’m here is to forget my own sob story, not listen to other’s. We’d probably have spent the night sobbing on each other’s shoulders. So I let her go and moved on.
One of the craziest stories I heard was from a woman called Lane in Monsoon bar in July 2023. This is the diary extract:
As soon as the waitress went away, a girl made a play for me. She seemed pretty enough, so I invited her to join me for a drink. Lane from Tarlac, with three kids to support. When I asked her age, I was shocked at the answer – 38! She could easily pass for 18 (but it was dark in there and I had the wrong glasses on). I was even more shocked when she went on to describe her bargirl career. She had started in Apple (now gone) ten years ago and had worked in Insomnia, Lollipop, Baccara and Shipwrecked (so been round the block a few times). She told me a lurid tale of how she had fallen off the upper tier in Baccara, where there is a stainless steel mezzanine over the stage. She had been badly injured, but the bar paid her hospital fees and gave her compensation, and luckily, there were no long term effects.
I didn’t barfine her because I’m not keen on pussy that his been pounded like tenderized meat. I’d rather have a fresh-faced innocent even if she is a poor performer. Though, as I’m writing this, I think it would be interesting to have barfined her and taken her – not to bed – but to a restaurant with a notebook and a Dictaphone (are they still a thing?) and collected anecdotes from her life story. It would have made an interesting book. Come to think of it, she’s probably still there, so maybe I’ll do that on my next visit.
My usual modus operandi is to have one drink in a bar and to talk to one girl, then move on. Usually, in a typical evening, that will be nine drinks and nine chats over about eight or nine hours. as this diary extract from January 2020 shows:
That was a bad night! I made all the usual mistakes: went out too early, drank too quickly, was too generous in buying lady drinks, and moved on too quickly instead of studying the form (see Rule 11). On the other hand, I did pull them off the stage and talk to them (9 in total).
Nine is about my limit these days. Nine San Mig Lights = nearly 3 litres of beer @ 5% proof. Nine is also about my limit for inane lady drink conversations. You know the kind of thing: “What’s your name?” “Where are you from?” “You have girlfriend in Angeles City?” “Well, I give you everything you want, long time.” (sorry about that last one, I was thinking about something else). Nine o’ clock is also a good time to be thinking about barfining, because the best girls go early (see Rule 31, BARFINE EARLY), and the beer hasn’t got to me yet. It often happens that, if I haven’t found that special girl by 11 at the latest, I will spend the rest of the evening staggering from bar to bar shaking my head at the sorry state of the UFO leftovers before going home alone. It’s easy to order the drink, but not always easy to find my “Juliet for a night”. For example, this night in Angeles in August 2023:
I avoided the dead loss bars just beyond the Walking Street sign, Soya, SS Bar and Ace, and, before I knew it, I was outside Brown Sugar. So I decided to pop inside and talk to my philosophical waitress, but she wasn’t there, and neither was anyone else I recognised – well, the turnover of gogo girls is faster than burger flippers at MacDo’s, or perhaps the mamasan left with her whole crew.
Instead, it was “The Charge of the Heavy Brigade” with not one representative of the “Light Brigade” among them, and somehow, without my fresh-faced intellectual friend, the place seemed barren. I waited until the set changed, only to find it was even worse. I wasn’t too disappointed because I hadn’t expected much. Once you get beyond the Walking Street barrier, it’s hard to find anything other than UFO’s (Ugly, Fat and Old).
I was beginning to worry by now. I’d been in two bars, walked past a dozen more, and had not talked to one girl. That’s probably because, after the experience of my last visit, when I wasted lady drinks on, how many was it? – five deadbeats in a row, I was a lot less willing to engage any in conversation. Time to move on.
But its no good just sitting there and gawping, you have to talk to them to find out if you’ve got those two key ingredients, Chemistry (See Rule 13) and Connection (See Rule 15). If you keep doing this you will, sooner or later, come across one who stands out from the rest, and Sod’s Law (Murphy’s Law if you’re Irish) dictates that it will be at a most inconvenient time. An example is what happened in Bangkok in January 2020:
Late in the evening, I met a girl in Suzie Wong, who was a university student paying her tuition fees by working bar. She was 22 and, by day, was a student of Computer Studies. She had only worked in the bar for a week, so her English was not good. But she was clearly intelligent, and interesting to talk to (when we could understand each other). She was not particularly beautiful, though her face was pleasant enough. Her body was of the petite type I prefer. She was very touchy-feely, and didn’t object to a little kissing. She was also happy to go long time (so she passed my tests).
She agreed to meet me outside so that I would not have to pay the barfine. It was very late when I met her, and when we got to the room (no ID check) she dived on the bed and told me to take a shower – she didn’t shower. She said she wanted to sleep, so I said, “OK. 3,000 if no sex,” which she agreed to. I asked her to get naked, which she did, and we fell asleep.
Her phone disturbed us at 6:45, then my phone alarm went off at 7, followed, minutes later, by the hotel morning call. She roused me with a handjob. Then we got started. She was dry. She asked if I had K-Y gel. I said, “Yes, in Singapore.” (I didn’t bring it because I had absolutely no intention of barfining). I licked her pussy and managed to get in a bit. Then she gave me a good, wet blowjob and straddled me, and we were away! Great view! What a bod! What hard ass cheeks! No kissing though, and she still seemed tired. It was quick, but OK, and went much better than I had expected, given that we were both so tired. She left at 8:20, and by 8:30 I was in the taxi to Don Muang. I wish I’d had another 24 hours!
Sod’s Law hit me again in Angeles in September 2023:
My intention was to take it easy and go with the flow. I did, but the flow was rapid. A sweet young thing, second from the end, caught my eye, and in moments she was by my side with a lady drink. Gerelyn, 22, from San Pablo, Naval, Biliran Province. 5’ 1” tall, no children. She had worked in Old Club for one week. We had the usual conversation, spiced up with my palm reading thing (see chapter 1 of my book Thai Girls, Sex and the Supernatural – actually, you can read it for free, as the whole chapter, and a bit of the next one, appear in the free sample on Amazon. She massaged my hands and neck, and made a real effort with conversation, though with the loud music, her limited English, and my poor hearing, it wasn’t easy. The first round of drinks was soon finished, and the waitress asked if I wanted another. I said no, but was reluctant to leave this new-found sweetie. It was coming up to 9:00 pm, and I had booked a taxi for 12:30 am (my flight was at 5:10 am – not the most convenient of times!). Then I thought, what am I here for? Go for it. So I did. I bought another round of drinks, along with a few nibbles, and continued to chat to her. She got better and better, so there was nothing else for it except to say the magic word.
She looked great in her street clothes; a black two-piece outfit with a glimpse of midriff. I said we would have to go straight back to the hotel because I had an early flight, but that I would have liked to have taken her barhopping and then for a meal.
I kept the lights low – just the bathroom light round the corner from the bed, and the TV – which was playing one of those dreadful Philippine soaps that Filipinas love, and we lay on the bed and chatted. She told me that I was her first barfine – heaven! It’s like having a virgin – better, because they are sweet and fresh, but know what it’s all about. I said I would be gentle with her (I know, it’s a cliché, but I wanted her first experience to be positive) and gradually eased her out of her clothes. Her breasts were small, but firm and elastic to the touch, her belly perfectly flat, her pubes shaved and smooth.
Gradually she relaxed and agreed to me putting the bedside light on. I also put my glasses on (something I rarely do) so that I could get a good look at her. They are only 1.5 diopter reading glasses, but they brought her nubile curves into sharp focus.
The rest I must leave to your imagination. If you want to know what it was like, just watch a Trike Patrol video (most Trike Patrol girls are from Angeles) – but it was nothing like that. If you watch the videos carefully, you will see that the girls often don’t enjoy it, worse, they sometimes seem to be in pain, or at least, uncomfortable – but the guys just bang away regardless. I’m not saying that Gerelyn enjoyed it, but at least I was gentle with her and respected her feelings, and she seemed comfortable.
Afterwards, there was still about an hour and a half left (funny thing, that session with the sweet, fresh Gerelyn seemed to last for an eternity, but probably only lasted about 20 minutes, foreplay included), so I suggested that we went for a meal.
I took her to Kokomos and we had a pleasant conversation over mozzarella fingers and fries and a glass of red wine. She told me that she wanted to travel (well, you would, wouldn’t you, if all you ever saw was the inside of a gogo bar?) She dreamed of going to Boracay, and further afield, to Australia and the USA. I told her that you can have too much of a good thing, and that travel often involved getting up at inconvenient times, my forthcoming flight being a good example: a two-hour taxi ride to Manila in the middle of the night, and a 3:30 hour flight in a cramped seat, during which I would fall asleep and wake up with pains in my neck and back.
I said I’d like to take her to Boracay – and I would, if I could fit it in. I racked my brains to think of when I could manage another trip, but the earliest I could do it (without throwing all my plans to the winds) would be November, by which time she would be well panned in. If you’re going to take a girl out of the bar, you have to do it there and then.
She said she didn’t like bar work and intended to leave in November. I said, “Why leave it till then?” and she gave the obvious reply, “Need money.” It reminded me of the time I “saved” a bargirl in a similar situation. She had just started in Crystal Palace and wanted to get out, but was in debt to the mamasan. It was only a few thousand pesos, so I paid it for her. I would have followed her up, too, except that I had only recently met, Angel, the love of my life. More details about her are given in Rule 4. The full story is told in my book, Amorous Adventures in Angeles City.
It crossed my mind that I might do the same thing again, especially when Gerelyn told me that she’d like to be my girlfriend. The prospect appealed – but the voice of common sense told me that I’m far too old for her, so it would be foolish to get involved. If I were 10 years younger (no, 20!), I’d do it and try the whole thing again – marriage, kids etc. Third time lucky, they say. It’s a good thing I didn’t get to spend the whole night with her because, by morning, I would have been well and truly smitten and might have thrown discretion to the winds, paid her debt to the bar, and taken her home with me.
To be honest, there is another reason why it wouldn’t work. After most of my adult life being married to one woman or another, I am enjoying my freedom, and, more than anything else, I love the hunt. I love the spin of the wheel of fortune when you enter a bar. Anything can happen. Usually, I walk out a few hundred baht poorer and 330 cc drunker, or with a deadbeat who I will want to get rid of asap, but every now and again, I hit the jackpot, like I did tonight. Of course, when you hit the jackpot, you want to keep her – but it doesn’t work like that, as things will, inevitably, start to go downhill. It’s all about the moment, about living it to the full, and then letting it go.
After the meal, we walked back to the hotel and said goodbye, and I switched into traveller mode, packing, checking my documents, checking the flight status (in view of the recent typhoon), and sorting out my currencies (I was carrying three: euros, pesos and baht).
I slept in the taxi and went through check in and immigration as though in a dream. I slept badly on the plane, as I knew I would, and at 8:30 next morning arrived in Thailand. My last visit was a long time ago, February 2022. It was good to be back. That first whiff of Bangkok air flipped a mental switch. Gerelyn (sadly) was history, and the future awaited me in Nana Plaza.
Sod’s Law aside, those are examples of what will happen if you keep talking to the girls, it will be boring, boring, boring – then, CLICK! And you’re away! So, remember Rule 17, TALK TO LOTS OF GIRLS.
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The book version, 48 Rules for Gogo Bars is nearly finished. All I have to do is write eight supplementary rules specific to the Phils. Watch this space! In the meantime, if you enjoyed this article, you might also enjoy some of my other books about Thailand and the Philippines. Take a look here or here.
The author of this article can be contacted at : rumblejungle2019@gmail.com
