December 1, 2019 By bangkok7
In the movie “Dazed and Confused,” Wooderson says “That’s what I love about these high school girls, man. I get older, they stay the same age.” In the red-light district, it’s the opposite. The gogo dancers get older, and I stay the same. The girls I first knew upon arriving in the RLD have, over the years, outgrown it. This blog is dedicated to those sweet lasses who’re no longer on the pole—the ones who for a time ruled the gogo, but for various reasons have moved on, allowing a newer, younger, fitter group to take their place. These are Seven’s gone girls…
Aoom is, aesthetically speaking, a perfect 10. She started out in a small, forgettable bar on Soi 6, but once she realized her astounding hotness compared to the other girls, she graduated to Walking Street where she was the toast of the town for about a year before disappearing from the pole. We shared a few fun romps in 2016, and I always made sure to stop in and see her when visiting Ptown, but our friendship slowly waned due to her crushing popularity and scant spare time. I don’t blame her. The last I heard was that she’s engaged to a farang. Also, she’ from Pattaya, which is why the title of this blog isn’t “Some Bangkok Gogo Dancers.” A few on this list are from other parts of TLOS.
Meow was a homeless freelancer when we first met on Soi Nana. Although she left school at age 10, her English was impeccable. After trying her hand at dancing, she realized she only had the energy to be a streetwalker. She had a habit of dropping by unannounced due to never having phone credit, and most of the time I’d let her stick around. Then one day she said she was going to Vietnam to visit her friend, and for two years I didn’t hear from her. out of the blue, she sent me a Facebook message claiming she was stuck in Vietnam because of some passport-related issue and didn’t know if she’d ever be allowed back into Thailand.
Bo was a sweet, gorgeous uni student. We connected through Thaifriendly, of all things, and became fast friends and bang buddies. She was soft-spoken and shy in public, and a dynamo in the sack. She was just as happy having dinner in a rooftop bar as sitting in my small apartment watching South Park. In the end, though, she wanted monogamy. Her goal, like so many, was to marry an American and relocate to the US. I told her I’d rather die than move home, so she stopped calling.
Em is, in all my time here, the most gorgeous girl I’ve laid eyes on. She was working in a massage place when we first found each other. I couldn’t wrap my head around why a girl that hot would waste her face in a job like that. Eventually she wound up on a pole, and was the most popular girl in the RLD for a while. On the days when she didn’t work, she’d come and hang around my apartment, idly playing games on her phone in the nude, or stretching like a cat across my bed. Her only flaw—and it’s the same with all ridiculously good-looking girls—was that she was bat-shit crazy. She convinced herself I had other girls on the side behind her back. Never mind that she’d had customers, that’s the Thai double standard. And never mind that, for once, I wasn’t seeing anyone else. No amount of reassuring would convince her. So she bailed. Over a fantasy that she concocted. Which goes to show you, women are insane no matter the hemisphere. In spite of her craziness, I do wish she hadn’t run off, because her hotness far outweighed her insanity. It would’ve been worth any amount of grief to have that ridiculously hot chick stick around.
Gif was brand new when I found her. So brand new, in fact, that I spotted her on the street, walking to her first day of work on the pole. She was being led by the Mamasan who held her by the hand, guiding her through the busy soi to the bar. She wore no makeup, a simple unflattering dress, and a single barrette in her hair. But I could tell in one glance that she was a diamond in the rough. Within a month, she’d changed her hair, started wearing eyeliner, and was making men swoon with a single glance. For a year-long stretch, we spent nearly every weekend together. We went snorkeling, saw movies, took a trip to Phuket. And right about the time I thought she’d ask to leave the pole and be my one-and-only, she disappeared. I saw her again two years later, on a different gogo stage, looking much plumper and tired-out. She came over for a drink, and when I asked her where she’d run off to, she said her Thai boyfriend demanded that she leave the red-light and spend more time with their daughter. He’d since left her for someone new and she was forced back to the pole as so many are. But by then I’d lost interest, so we went our separate ways.
Sylvia was an anomaly. I found her profile on a Thai dating site before seeing her in the gogo. She was a self-professed nymphomaniac, which of course I didn’t believe. That was, until I got her into bed. She was a marvel. Until Sylvia, I considered myself something of a deviant. It turns out, I was merely an amateur. When we were alone, it was Sylvia’s world. She was the pilot and I was just a lucky passenger. When she walked through my door, my apartment became her domain. She brought toys, costumes, chains, and once she even brought another girl. In the end, she was too much for me to handle. I couldn’t keep up, or keep it up—at least not enough to quell her insatiable sexual appetite. Eventually I stopped replying to her messages, and she found a new victim on which to practice her succubal arts.
Tar didn’t know it, but I’d picked her out before ever meeting her. She was figured prominently in the photos of her gogo’s Facebook page, and I went out of my way to find her bar and nonchalantly strike up a conversation with her. To my shock, it worked like a charm. We got on like old friends from the word go, and were in bed within half an hour. From the first moment till the last, we were like an old married couple. Kindred souls, I guess you could say. She was hands-down the star of the gogo, and for good reason. She was positively radiant, with a green dragon tattoo that started at her neck, wrapped around one breast, and extended down to her hip. She was sweet, optimistic, and beguiling. Unfortunately, she was also a raging alcoholic, and when she drank she became an altogether different person. She would get belligerent and incoherent. She’d constantly fall down, hurt herself, break things. It became a chore to nurse her through her alcoholic routs. In the end, the stark contrast between her Jekyll-and-Hyde split personalities proved too challenging in a world where a more easy-going gal is just around the next corner, and I had to walk away.
I miss all my gone girls daily, and think of them often. Luckily, the feeling of loss is alleviated by the constant stream of replacements that flood the RLD seasonally. But I’ll always remember the list of lasses above, who kept my world spinning for a time and eased my misanthropy if only briefly. Thank Buddha for them, and for Thailand—the greatest country on Earth.
Until next time, keep your balls shorn, your beer frosty, and cheers to all the girls we’ve loved before, who give meaning to the name “Land of Smiles.” And to Em—if you’re reading this, call me. I miss your sweet ass.