“That’s the way it works in Thailand. So long as you keep shelling out the bucks, everything goes your way. It’s a great country.” – Bruce, Private Dancer
It dawns on me that I’m a sucker.
Dinner last night, the excessive taxi money this morning, and now the one drink I agreed to buy her has magically become three and a snack when the bill arrives.
I look around the bar. Her sister-cousin-friends largely ignore the young, fun and handsome farangs in short pants and flip flops, saving their smiles for the older dudes at the pool tables with bulging wallets and waistlines. I notice several more girls dotted around the place, all gorgeous, all standing alone, waiting to catch eyes.
I met her last night on the dance floor. She hinted that she’d like to go home with me. I told her I never pay for sex.
But now I was paying for it. A transactional relationship. No thanks.
Reality realized, I leave abruptly. She follows me outside, wanting to know what’s wrong.
“You think I no good for you?”
Yeah, that’s pretty much it. She wants a nice guy who will take care of her. I want a good girl who can take care of herself. The problem, I tell her, is that she’d settle for any decent looking farang with deep pockets.
“Fucking gay man,” she yells as I walk away.
She tries calling me fifteen times in the next half hour. I don’t answer. Her texts ask why I make her cry, why I no good man, why I gay now.
On the way home I pass a young mother and two kids begging on the street. I drop them 1000 baht to make myself feel better.
It’s a great country.