December 23, 2019 By bangkok7
G’day reader, I’m Bangkok Seven and this is my blog. Today I’m starting a new series devoted to studying the polar opposite experiences of dating a farang woman vs a Thai. In each case, I’ll do a drill-down of two specific ladies—one from my romantic past in the US, and one from recent frolics in TLOS. The point is to juxtapose these experiences and to highlight the highlights and lowlights attributed to each. Today’s contestants are as follows:
I met Kate while in grad school. She sat in front of me in one of my classes, and for the first week or so, I didn’t see her face—just her long flowing blonde hair and an ass so tight you could bounce a quarter off it. I got a semi-chub every day sitting behind that excellent derriere. Then one day she asked to borrow a pen—bright green eyes, full red lips wrapped around a brilliant smile. I was smitten. We were together for two years. I even bought a ring and was days away from popping the question before my sanity got the better of me and I bailed.
On the surface, there was no obvious reason for my retreat. She was upper middle class, had no bad habits, and came from a good family. My parents adored her. She was smart, funny, and wanted nothing more than to be a mom and a housewife. Had I married her, I’m certain I would’ve lived a long, comfortable life as the head of a very Rockwellian household. The trouble was, I didn’t want that. My mother wanted that, and Kate wanted that. I didn’t. But in the end, that isn’t the main reason I walked away. The real reason was, the girl hated having sex. She claimed to have a ‘bent cervix’ which always meant sex was painful for her. Additionally, she’d miscarried as a teenager, and claimed that every time she had sex she relived the loss of the fetus and would plunge into grief mid-coitus. So not only was the sex extremely seldom, she used her body as a bargaining chip to control every aspect of my existence. If she was going to put herself through the hell of banging me, I’d better be prepared to compensate accordingly. So I did all the chores, all the cooking, I spent all my money on fancy dinners and wine tasting trips. I was obligated to see the movies she wanted to see, and to have brunch with her stupid friends every weekend. And I knew that as soon as we were hitched, all sexual contact would end short of giving her a handful of kids. Oh, and I almost forgot to mention: she hated giving blowjobs. I realized that if I married this slave driver, I’d be trapped in a sexless relationship for the rest of my days.
So the two main reasons for hitting the eject button on Kate were 1—my long-standing desire to not have a family and 2—my long-standing desire to do the nasty. But there were other red flags. For one thing, Kate made it clear from the start that she thought she was dating down by going out with me. In her mind, I was below her status, and she was doing me a favor by agreeing to be my girlfriend. Second, she maintained from the start that she wanted five kids and a large house with “bay windows and beveled glass.” At the time, I was a lowly primary school teacher. I could barely afford to pay my bills, let alone provide a mansion and food for 7 mouths. Naturally I assumed she’d do the math and come to her senses eventually. But she never did. A year after we broke up, she married and got everything she wanted—the kids, the house, and a milquetoast husband to do her bidding. In the last Facebook photo I saw of her before blocking her, she’d cut her lovely locks into that short-dyke haircut all moms get eventually, and she’d packed on what looked like 40 pounds. Bullet. Dodged.
Sweet, lovely Kae is a 19 year old single mom and a gogo dancer in Patpong. She’s radiantly beautiful and perpetually optimistic, with an infectious sense of humor and an earnest desire to make me happy, which I find is the trait I like best in women. I met her a few years ago when she was dancing illegally in a bar famous for underage girls. She needed cash badly, so I offered to let her clean my apartment with the promise that as soon as she turned legal status, she could hop in my bed. Then the junta took power and cleared all the under-18 girls out of the red-lights, and Kae was in dire straits trying to keep clean diapers on the ass of her baby.
To make things worse, her 2nd Thai boyfriend knocked her up and bailed, same as the first. So with another kid on the way and no means of employment, I began giving her small monthly monetary gifts. She was very appreciative, so much so that the day she turned 18 she showed up on my doorstep, ready to show her gratitude with her vagina (vagatitude for short, copyright BKK7). She’s back on the pole now, and so not as bad off, but she still comes over regularly. I think in her mind, it’s payback for keeping her afloat over the last year. She asks nothing of me, and only seems to take pleasure in pleasing me. She is a blowjob expert, and takes great pride in showing off her skills, regarding my aging junk as her personal plaything that she can’t get enough of. She’s basically the opposite of Kate, and a quintessential example of A—everything I’ve ever wanted in a female companion, and B—the reason I will never return to a life in the US.
Thailand is, as far as I can tell, the only place a man like me can live like he wants. Because honestly, one gorgeous, accommodating, sexually explosive lady isn’t enough. Which is why this blog is a series rather than a one-off. Next time I’ll pit my final American girlfriend to my current favorite harem girl. Until then, friends, keep your balls warm, you beer cold, and cheers to another week in this adult playground they call Thailand.