Musing #284 - I was sitting in a bar in Bangkok . . .

I was sitting in a bar in Bangkok, “The Sloppy Second” – a name that sounded much better in Thai – listening to “Titiko” offer me sage advice in drunken slurs.

“Deetz, make a list of 10 things you need in a girl and when you find one who has 7 of them, marry her.”

Titiko likely assumed she had at least 5 of those qualities, including a full-size, still fully functional penis and nicely designed tits. Not that I have anything against “kathoey”, or shemales, as the uneducated would refer to them, but this one was wearing a bit thin – alcoholism looks bad on everyone. I was desperately trying to pawn her off on my new dojo mate, Kenneth, who was salivating so bad I couldn’t tell if the front of his shirt was wet from sweat or drool. Before she said that, I would have gladly loaned him the money an hour ago to take her in the back for a “Lucky 30”, so I could drink my tea in peace but her musing caught me off guard.




“How do you know what you want, in a girl I mean?” I asked, my curiosity doing nothing to stop Kenneth’s hand from continuing to slide up her pencil shaped shirt.

She slapped his hand back in a no-money-no-touchy manner which got the desired effect – he put more money on the table. This repeated several times before she returned her attention to me. “It not what you want silly. It is what you n-e-e-d, what you NEED.”

I would have asked her to clarify further, not because I was drunk – I don’t drink – but because I really wanted to know what wisdom this haggard looking, 19-year-old prostitute from some jungle village who likely couldn’t read had that my fit, college educated, world traveling mildly privileged white male self didn’t. Unfortunately, Ken’s additional American dollars won out and her attention went where her mouth and asshole were going. My sparring buddy winked at me as they rose from the rickety table. I just shrugged. I was in a foul mood but couldn’t put my finger on why. I was always up for a three way as long as condoms were allowed, especially if sucking cock of some drunken, so-called straight boy was involved. Plus, a free night away from the Muay Thai training center was rare as our Kru, or training master was rather strict. However, once a month he went to his village a few days away to visit his elderly parents. As long as the center was clean when he got back, he said nothing about our blurry eyes and sloppy technique the morning after his return. It was hard to dirty anything when you spent your meager monies on bad booze and whores in the local pub.

But somehow tonight was different. There was this new, strange feeling sitting like a bowling ball at the bottom of my stomach and it made even my typically independently minded dick sad. My double major in philosophy and physics was not offering a single word to define this funk except one that simply didn’t make sense, at least not for an arrogant, cynical sophist like me.

Luckily my mobile rang – it was my baby sister Ciara back in Cardiff – rescuing me temporarily from the truth.



- From “The Musings of Deetz Mac Innes, 9/21/2016