Happy almost New Year, reader. I’m Bangkok Seven, and this is my blog. Today’s gem is the 2nd in a new series that takes a close analytical look at why Thai girls are so much better on every level than female farang. My justification comes from a juxtaposition (justuxtapocation for short, copyright BKK7) of two of my personal relationships—one American girl from my past, and one current Thai member of my harem. Let’s begin.
My last and final relationship with a farang woman covered my last two years in the US. On some level, she was the impetus for my relocation overseas, although she was just one of many determining factors. She was a vision. A feast for the eyes. A blonde haired blue-eyed sex goddess with the body of a runway model. Her only physical flaw, if you could call it that, was a set of slightly small yet perky tits. Unfortunately, as is the case with all hot women who are dynamite in the sack, she was positively bonkers. When we met, she had been shacked-up with a drug dealer who was her boyfriend as well as her supplier. She was a wake-and-bake, as they call it, and also dabbled with speed every now and again. Her opinion of herself at the time was about as low as one could get, and when I asked her about her plans for the future, she said they didn’t extend beyond the next bong hit. Over the course of two years, however, I was able to point out her intelligence, her skill at charming strangers, and her intuition. Between the time we started up and the time we split, she left the drug dealer, got a degree in marketing, and landed a job at Microsoft. I’d be lying if I said I don’t deserve credit for her turnaround. That was mainly due to my influence. I also got something out of the relationship. Up to that point, she was the hottest smoking-hot piece of ass I’d ever laid my depraved hands on, and her bedroom skills bordered on super powers. She had me completely addicted to her naked flesh, so much so that my life consisted of trying to fill up the time between coitus in order to make it pass more quickly. And it turned out the only reason she stayed with me was for the sex. She said I did things to her no one else ever even tried. This prompted me to make each session crazier than the last, in a desperate effort to keep her around, but as anyone who’s tried knows, you eventually run out of crazy stuff. For us, that came when we started having threesomes with one of my cute female friends. Her excitement for our sexploits started to wane, and I began to feel a sense of dread stronger than anything I’d ever experienced. She took up searching for someone new behind my back, and although it was evident, I ignored it until doing so became impossible. When the day came to confront her, she was ready. She apologized and asked if we could still be friends. I reminded her of what I told her at the start—that I knew she’d eventually leave, and that I’d never forgive her for it. So we said goodbye, she transitioned smoothly from me to the guy she’d been grooming (much the same way she moved from the drug dealer to me), and I booked a flight to England.
Regarding hot women who’ve crossed my path, in my entire life up until moving to Thailand I’d seen maybe 10 perfect 10’s. In Thailand, I see at least two per day. They’re everywhere. They fall into my lap like fruit from a hot-chick tree. I don’t have the stamina to bed them all. Thankfully, Jom is both a perfect 10 and one of my harem. She is flawless. I’ve never seen more perfect skin on a woman. It’s as if she was dipped in caramel apple coating. Her skeletal and musculature structures are formed so perfectly as to make one believe she was built in a factory by sex scientists. Though her crooked smile might at first appear to be a flaw, it is in fact endearing. And her cheerful willingness to be a naked toy for me to play with in bed makes her irresistible. She lets me do whatever I want to her, and never grows bored or tired of it. She’s never said no to anything I’ve suggested, no matter how depraved. Every time I’m sure I pushed her too far and she’ll never call again, like clockwork she shows up at my front door week after week. When she’s not naked in my apartment, she sends me nude selfies to tide me over. It’s been four years now and she shows no sign of bailing. Every time she takes off her clothes and climbs in my bed, I feel like the luckiest man on Earth.
And unlike the stopped-world feeling that came over me when Jamie left, when Jom eventually goes her own way (as they all inevitably do), I won’t fear or grieve, because I know there’s a throng of girls as perfect or better than Jom waiting in the wings to take her place. This is the miracle of Thailand. It is the opposite of the West, where good women are nearly extinct, and the ones you do find are black-hearted, entitled morons. The motto of nearly every Thai goddess is “To Serve Man,” and unlike the Twilight Zone episode of the same name, the girls opt to offer up themselves on a silver platter. Women like Jom have been a healing balm on my wounded heart. She and the rest of my revolving harem have over the last decade completely undone any and all damage done by the horrid American women of my past. I’ll never stop singing their praises, and for the next few weeks at least, I won’t stop comparing them to those brainless, dysfunctional monsters who took up my time, money, and devotion before I made my glorious escape to Thailand. Between now and then, if you’re lucky enough to be here, find time to raise a glass to the Thai goddess currently putting a smile on your face, and thank Buddha you’re not stuck with the dating dross in the West.