She’s Great But She Doesn’t Deserve Him
Big Time In Pattaya Yet Again
One of my friends had a very “good” time last night and I want to recount his story.
He knows a 22-year-old lady on the dark side. I’ve seen her. She’s as pretty as hell. She has two small kids and works a bar for 4000 baht a month. Can’t survive on that. She doesn’t go with many customers but she goes with my friend who’s gross, over sixty, and as ugly as hell. She lets him enter without a contraceptive and she is as firm as hell. She’s had a bit of a bust-up down below what with two kiddywinks necessitating stitch-surgery and a small space so she appreciates his “gentleness”. She fell over two nights ago with sang som cokes. Usual stuff. He’s one hell of a lucky bugger. She’s one hell of a pretty, unfortunate lass.
“I’m one hell of a lucky buggaaar!” he tells me. “I don’t deserve a lovely, “blonde”, long-legged, gentle, firm, twenty-two-year-old, pretty Thai lass, but I’ve got her.”
“For the moment,” I inform him.
“I went on to Retox afterwards,” he continues, ignoring my warning. “All the hoolies were watching Tott. against Man U. Man U. won. I was watching the girls – in bikinis, and I asked one why her bum and her American English were so good. She asked me to ask the boss…”
“He’s my fiancé.”
“Oh,” I say, “you’ve been to America? I say. You’ve lived in the Promised Land, I say. The old American dream, I chuckle. She smiles and swings off. Really great bum! I didn’t ask the boss.”
“And then?” from me, prompting the old bastard. (I’m already thinking of writing him up!)
“I went to Oasis A Go Go. Had two beers and a thirty-two year old with firm breasts, but a bit overweight, got friendly. I ate her for two tequilas. Great.”
“There’s an Iranian, all-you-can-eat buffet on Second Road. You pay five or six euros / pounds and nosh as much as you want.” (He got a bad tummy from this choice – ha! ha! – between you and me.)
“Then you wended your way home?”
“I did and I didn’t,” he smirks.
I raise my eyebrows for encouragement, but he doesn’t need any. “I was offered everything for 500 baht just off of Soi Buakhao.
“Massage, the works, everything, real everything?” I query, not believing my ears.
Mr. Smuggy smiles. “Yep, and I got it. I even came again so the Iranian meal must have been OK…” (Ha! ha!) “…and I must be OK!”
“You complacent bastard!” I think.
“Afterwards you went home, I am presuming?”
“I popped into Paradise A Go Go on L. K. Metro to see if Noy has returned. She’s the dancer I told you about who ended up in hospital twice with skin problems and pussy problems. Needed to go back to Khon Kaen cos it was cheaper.”
“Was she there?”
“No,” he answers, glumly.
I smile because if he’d got back with his Noy, well, that would have been just too much to bear!
And that’s about it, folks. Whatever you think of me, whether you think I’m a mean bastard for envying my friend’s formidable good luck, whether you think he’s exaggerating, and Pattaya just doesn’t have that much on offer, whether you want my guts for garters, just picture the scenes, and even you may agree with my conclusion.
They, the girlies, are great but they don’t deserve HIM!