This is What Failure Looks Like
This is a story of complete failure, so those looking for details of how much, where and when, look elsewhere. A summary of what is in this post:
- I lap up some drinks with Spider in soi Cowboy, hitting three of the same bars we did a couple of weeks ago.
- Having already arranged to meet a girl in my hotel, I bail early.
- The night takes a sour turn.
- I kick her out before even a tender breast is suckled.
- Ponder whether to go out again for a second run at things.
Last Monday was my penultimate night in Thailand, and I wanted to try something new. I wasn't sure what to do, but as luck would have it, I got an SMS from a girl from Rainbow 4 who I had never been with. This was the girl who Oscar and I spoke with several weeks earlier, but with whom I never hooked up. A week after that meeting, I went back looking for her, but didn't see her, and in the process hooked up with the girl I affectionately call Bazooms. It is generally not a good idea (for me at least) to take two girls from the same bar, so I had written this girl off (because of Bazooms). But sly Kumbu thought 'if I can hook up with her without having to go to Rainbow 4, then Bazooms need never know...”. My plan, therefore, was to tap this beauty in anonymity. We agreed via sms that she would drop by my hotel at around 8pm. I would pay her BF and ST fee directly to her.
Later that afternoon, I got an SMS from Spider asking if I wanted to grab a drink at Soi Cowboy on my penultimate night. How could I pass up such an opportunity? So I re-arranged my meeting with the Rainbow 4 girl for 11pm, and met up with Spider at 9pm in the upstairs lounge of Baccara. We chatted for a while about our week of mongering while looking over the talent on display. Not seeing anything to either of our fancies, we bailed and went to Tilac.
Once again, at Tilac, Spider was getting all the attention. Girl after girl was coming up to him and trying to get him to drop a BF, but he was restrained. At one point, a girl comes up to him and climbs all over him, rubbing her hands all over his nipples, nibbling on his ear, etc. Spider was cool – he didn't send off any signals of weakness, and he did not give her an inch. In fact, at one point, just to make it clear that he was here for fun, he tells his girl “Why don't you show Kumbu your sweet little ass?” Kumbu turns around eagerly...and rather than actually lifting her little dress, she just poked her ass out. Shy, I suppose. But she seemed like a shark to me, and Spider was wise not to partake.
Overall there weren't that many girls on display, and none that pleased Kumbu, not even on this penultimate night of sin. And so once again we bailed and headed on over to Shark. We both thought this place was rocking the last time we were there, so it was worth another look. This time it was a little less raucous, but still quite alive. The girls here were easily the prettiest of the three bars we had been in, and there were a couple that were definitely up to Kumbu's standards. I was beginning to regret having ordered delivery already, but what could I do?
There were two girls who caught my eye. The first was a thick-legged, fit and trim girl who had the face of an ox. Sorry to say that, but she really had a difficult face. But her body was simply superb. Her legs were exactly to Kumbu's specifications, and her backside looked marvelously bootylicious. But she was not giving me the vibe. She was looking across the room at the mirror, as usual, and occasionally at the group of Japanese gents in the middle of the bar. C'est la vie: Kumbu doesn't do it for her, either the clothing or the facial features, or the brown skin, or the age, or whatever. I know better than to push my luck when there is no chemistry.
The other girl was tall and slender, slightly darker skinned, and she too had nice legs (not quite to the same level as the oxen girl). But her face was delightfully cute. She had a sexy little smile, very naughty eyes, and hair that twisted and turned around her face, giving her a slight Medusa look. Plus, she was giving me the eyeballs. Whenever you get the eyeballs, you gotta at least take a look.
You may wonder why I was even looking if there was no chance of taking any of them tonight. Well, I still had one last night in Thailand, and I was on the lookout for the candidate who would be my going away gift. My flight was on Wed morning at 6am, so I had until 3am on Wed morning to play, which would be tough on the body, but damn if it wouldn't be fun.
After 10 minutes of watching and chatting with Spider, I decide it wasn't really worth the effort. The more I looked at her the more I thought that she was a shark (as the name of the bar suggests). She was doing the sly looks with several gents around the bar, and she just had that look about her which said 'I am a player.' Not Kumbu worthy.
I said my fond goodbyes to Spider at around 11pm, walked out and took a taxi back to my hotel. My girl was sitting patiently in the lobby, waiting for me to arrive. She looked delightful. She was dressed in a black mini skirt, with a white, skin tight halter top. Her hair fell straight down, except she had a flowery scrunchie around one thick lock of hair that pouted off the top of her head, giving her a very frivolous, girlie look. Now, if my memory serves me, this girl is in her late twenties, so girlie she is not, but the look was definitely youthful.
In front of the front-desk girls, I kiss her on the cheek and pretend she is a long-known acquaintance and we are going up to my room to have a formal business discussion. In a loud voice I proclaim what a great surprise it was to get her sms after such a long time, I ask her how her taxi ride was, and whether the heat of the night is a problem for her. The elevator doors shut, and I immediately shut up and look her up and down. She squirms uncomfortably for a moment, then decides to ignore me and starts to check herself out in the mirrored door. Kumbu will have none of that, so I grab her by the waist and pull her to me. She seems a little uncomfortable, and I think to myself that this may be a long night.
Into the room, and the first thing she says is 'where shower?' Uh-oh. I hate it when they want to talk for half an hour before we do the deed, but the antithesis of that (which I was witnessing right now) seems even worse. I ignore her question and ask her if she wants a drink. She says 'no thank you. Where shower?' I pause, so as to signal my displeasure, and then motion to the bedroom. She huffs off into the bathroom and I hear the shower running for a few moments. Umm...what's happening here?
She returns with a towel around her and I ask if everything is ok. She hums and haws for a while about how everything is ok, all the while putting on the sourest of sourfaces. She finally fesses up and explains to me what a drag it was to have had the plans changed on her. She had organized her entire evening around an 8pm encounter, and when I switched it to 11pm she was not particularly happy. So I asked her why she agreed to 11pm if it was such a life-changing problem, and she said 'always up to you. You want, I give.' Whoaaaaaaa, hold on there tilak, if that really is true, why am I getting all the attitude? What I want I get?
Ok, we're about to test that mantra deary.
So I said to her, 'really? Ching-ching law?' And she says 'ching-ching. Me good. Me take care customer, always.' And Kumbu says 'Ok, customer want you to take off towel.'
She smiles, seeing that she has been caught in a spot of bother. See, most Thai girls are shy, even the gogo girls. They find it really easy to display their naked bodies on stage in front of hundreds of ogling men, but when it comes to the display in front of the man in the room, for whatever reason, they are loathe to give that up. And so I was pressing her on that principle, and she knew it. So she says 'but I shy tilak' and I say 'no need to be shy, tilak. I think you very beautiful, and I want to see you. Show me, customer say he want to see you without towel.'
A moment passes, her looking at her fidgeting fingers, me looking at her eyes. They are large, I mean goddam, huge eyes, accentuated by eye makeup that just made them larger. She had blue mascara and eye blush on which gave the impression of larger than normal eyes. I tried to look past the eye make up to see if the make up was hiding particularly small eyes, but no, they were large in their own right. Furthermore, the very high, prominent cheek bones made for quite a visual feast, as she fretted and tried to figure a way out of her conundrum.
Either she accedes and displays her naked beauty for me, which she would find uncomfortable to say the least, or she rejects my request. In this case, it would suggest that her anger at me is entirely unwarranted, since she is willing to reject the customers request now, but when I changed the time she decided (of her own free will) to agree to the change in plans. Check-mate, my beautiful but out-strategized darling.
In the end, she chose the latter, and decided not to bare her goods to me. She did this by breaking out in a huge grin and saying 'oh it's ok, I miss you, I want to see you, that's why I come here so late.' Yeah, I buy that, just like I buy Nescafe coffee instead of real coffee every morning. But I push it a little.
“If you miss me so much, why don't you show me? Take off the towel, let me see...”
She needed to nip this in the bud, so she reaches over and starts to kiss my neck. Mmmmphph, ok, she rejects me. So far, this was not turning out too well. She seems moody and uncooperative. Not how I had imagined my penultimate night here. But let's see if I can salvage something.
I turn on the magic, or so I think. I start to stroke her shoulders and her hair, I return the kissing and nuzzling, and we start to get a groove on. After a few minutes of this, she seems to have warmed up, and I am feeling all smug with myself. She gently suggests that I shower, and I ask if she wants to come with me to make sure I am clean. The look I get is as if I am crazy. Oh crap, this girl is just not going to warm up, no matter what I do. Ok, I need to change my tack.
So I get up and shower rather quickly. I am usually meticulous about cleaning – I clean all the cracks and wrinkles I can get my fingers into, simply out of respect for the girl. Who knows where her tongue will eventually find itself, and the last thing I want is for her to pull away because of odor or taste issues. But in this case, I figured it didn't really matter since she was going to be sour no matter what I did.
I got out, and she was lying under the sheets, flat as a pancake, looking straight up at the ceiling. She did not even look my way when I came out of the bathroom. I climb onto the bed and she finally turns to look at me. Gee, thanks honey. I looked at her with an expressionless face, trying to figure out what the best course of action would be. Should I pay her something small and send her on her way? I could then duck back out and try to pick a girl from Soi Cowboy again? Who knows, maybe Spider is still trolling the bars...
Or should I persevere? Never the one to give up, and ever the optimist, I decided to stick it out. So I stroked her hair again, her forehead, her shoulders, and tried to hold a conversation. I thought maybe a little talk would soften her up, and then things would proceed in a fashion to which I am more accustomed. But literally 90 seconds into my attempted buttering up, she gets up and says 'ok, what you want?'
Kumbu: What?
Sourpuss: What you want? Short time or long time?
Kumbu: hmm. Up to you.
Sourpuss: Up to me? Cannot. Up to you.
Kumbu: Well, you seem pretty angry about being here at 11pm, so I don't know what your plans are for the night. You have somewhere to be later?
Sourpuss: no understand.
Kumbu: Let's do short time.
Sourpuss: ok, where condom?
I reached over and grabbed a box of local Durex condoms, pull one out and then I realized little Kumbu is not even mildly erect. How the hell am I going to proceed when this attitude is so in my face? So I stop and look at her. I decided at this point to bail. It just was not worth it.
I get up, drop my towel, and pull on my boxers. She sees this and says in an aggressive voice 'arai na?' I say nothing, pulling on my jeans. She gets agitated, and says 'what you do?' I pull out of my pocket 500B and say to her
Kumbu: Here, this is for you. Thank you for your time, time for you to go.
Sourpuss: Why tilak? You angli me?
Kumbu: Time to go. Get dressed.
And so began the screaming. Something about how I had called her here and spoiled her entire night, and now all I am giving her is 500B. Her screaming is top-of-the-lungs stuff, really memorable throat-ripping shrieks, hand waving 'I've gone fucking bonkers' kind of screaming. In America, my nosy neighbor would have called 911 already, 'Hello police? That colored gentleman has some screaming who*re in his house again.'
As she shouted and gesticulated at me in semi-English, I wondered about my safety. I don't really know this girl, and she may just pull out a shank or something and go at me. A line from a James Brown song went through my mind:
“I don't know karate, but I know Kuh-raze-eh” (crazy)
She's angry, sure, but so was I. She had cocked up my penultimate night royally, and I was not too happy about that. But I decided I needed to calm her down, so I talked to her at length in a soft, calm voice.
Kumbu: You know, I call you to have good time. You come here, no smile, angry with me, because I am a busy man I cannot see you at 8pm, so you get angry with me. And then you lie there like you are dead. How can I enjoy myself with you. Before I thought you were a very good lady, jai dii, smiling, laughing, happy. But today you are angry, no smiling, no fun. Why should I pay if you are angry at me?
Sourpuss: Ok, understand. But cannot pay me 500, no good.
As I was ranting, she was dressing, so when I was done with my rant she was fully dressed. I pulled out a further 200B and handed it to her. That would cover the BF and taxi. She began to protest, at which point I opened the door and held it open, wordless, looking down at my feet. I stood like that for a good 20 seconds, in silence, as she glared at me. I stood there, saying nothing, looking only at my feet. The silence was as thick as a fillet mignon at Ruth Chris' Steak House – you could cut it with a steak knife. But I stood there, holding the door, wordless...until she left. As she left, she looked my way but I did not even raise my eyes from the floor. She walked out, I released the door and let it close on its own power, and took a deep sigh of relief. She had fucked up my penultimate night here. Dammit.
It was now almost midnight, and I had to be up at 7am to get to work on time. I had a decision to make: go out hunting, or stay in and sleep?
