A Happy Bangkok Birthday: Hello Stranger
I turned 72 while visiting Bangkok in late November last year. I went there partly to escape my increasingly stale and lonely Pattaya rut.
But the real purpose of my trip was to seek closure and healing from devastating heartbreak. (story to come.)
“Peace comes from within. Do not seek it without.”
Nature’s heavenly artwork fills the Bangkok sky – shortly before disappearing into the darkness.
A fading beauty endures the ravages of Father Time.
A paper model’s eye sparkles with a scratched-out pupil at a BTS station.
A shadowy city skyline backdrops a breakfast buffet.
People from all walks of life congregate in seeming harmonic convergence in front of the Nana hotel.
(from Avatar Wiki):
“Harmonic Convergence is a supernatural phenomenon that occurs once every ten thousand years . . . while an aura of spirit energy envelops the Earth.”
I almost never tip beggars, but the instant I saw them, I pulled out my wallet.
I beckoned to the mom, and placed a 100-baht bill in her extended hand.
She gratefully thanked me in mild shock.
They departed the scene quickly, and I took a few photos.
After they left, I was scrolling my phone to check the photos and paused at this image. While gazing at the mom’s face, I suddenly began to cry.
There is no greater force in the universe than a mother’s love for her child.
Cleaning Day
I was irrationally generous with the maids at the G.M Grande hotel in Nana, where I was staying.
When three of them came to quickly clean my room, I gave them 50 baht each afterwards.
While they were cleaning, I decided to play an instrumental version of a Hawaiian song for them as I sat casually at my desk.
For me, the song, “Imi Au Ia Oe,” will always have a haunting melancholy beauty.
The song is about a young Hawaiian man searching for his beloved who is lost in the forest of the Big Island.
I remember this song triggering my tears when I was watching the movie “The Descendants.”
It had been only a few months since I had returned from my first-ever “sex tourist” trip – way back in December 2011.
I was age 59 then.
I felt trapped in Honolulu, aching with despair.
I wondered desperately if I would ever return to Thailand, and see her face again.
It was the last day of that trip when I met her – a magical trip that transformed my life.
I took that trip because I had finally abandoned my life-long driving dream to marry, or at least find a girlfriend, and live happily ever in paradise.
She was working at a soi Honey massage parlor.
I remember while she was giving me a happy-ending blowjob, her dangling hair was covering her face. I had lifted up her hair to see her face more clearly.
She then got up and took a clip from the side of the curtain, and used it to clip her hair back. She looked at me and smiled.
I’ll never forget how cute she looked in that instant.
She then bent back down and resumed the blowjob.
Afterwards, I felt mostly OK leaving the massage parlor, and during the ride to the airport.
But then my misery began while I was waiting for the flight, thinking about her. The misery just kept getting worse. Immensely worse.
I didn’t know it then, but I was entering a period of darkness that I now think of as my “Perfect Storm of Despair.”
Would I ever see the bewitching girl of my dreams again?
It turned out that I did eventually return to Thailand, and I did meet my dream masseuse again – in what I now regard as my last Answered Prayer. (But that’s another story.)
The movie plot of “The Descendants is about a man whose wife lies dying in a coma from a boating accident.
The man finds out that his dying wife had been having an affair behind his back – but he eventually forgives her.
So I was sitting at my S.M. Grande desk, continually repeating “Imi Au Ia Oe” on playback while the maids were cleaning.
I was mildly nervous sitting at my table desk, wondering if they thought I was being weird.
I was politely trying not to look at the maid while she was briefly standing in front of me.
I decided to risk taking a few quick photos of her. She was the most attractive of the three maids, but somewhat plain-looking.
The maid then took away an old, defective wooden Kleenex dispenser box, but it broke apart and fell to the floor.
“You drop!” I teased her.
I knew she did not understand any English.
I tried to explain what the word “drop” meant, but realized it was useless.
I really should try to learn some basic Thai.
Despite living in Thailand for 10 years, I do not know any Thai.
This is because I am the laziest man alive.
I was strangely moved when I later cropped my photo of the plain-looking maid for a closeup look.
I felt like I had somehow captured an instant of beauty – that you ordinarily wouldn’t see when looking at her in real life.
My best street photos usually seem to come without effort, really.
It’s like I don’t even have to try.
When I’m in a shooting mode, I simply just pay attention to the beauty of life all around me, continually.
Hello Stranger
During my Bangkok getaway, I had two short-time encounters with a sexy Nana freelancer named Fah – whom I remember from nearly 10 years ago!
But she did not remember me, which I expected really.
In 2015, I took these photos of Fah in a short-time hotel.
She is maybe age 18 or 19 in the photos, I’m not sure.
Later, I unexpectedly burst into tears when I finally found the long-ago photos of Fah that were buried in my monstrous photo archives.
Where has the time gone?
So you and I meet again, Fah – nearly a decade later.
What have we got to show for it?
So we’re having a “reunion” ST now – after all these years.
Has nothing changed?
I was puzzled at my sudden, overwhelming emotion of grief that shook me.
Lately I seem to be doing a lot of what I call “the crying game.”
Many things are triggering tears now.
What is the source of my underlying deep sadness?
I started scribbling what I was feeling about Fah’s old photos, and came up with this:
“tears of regret, mourning . . . and most of all – jolting reminders of my mortality.”
I find some comfort in watching YT self-help videos and reading spiritual material, including Eckhart Tolle’s “the Power of Now,” and “The New Earth.”
But the problem is that my behavior doesn’t change.
So nothing changes.
I have sadly learned this far too late in life: only actions count!
Tolle’s entire work can be summarized in 3 words: Now. Only Now.
Life is only ever lived in the present moment.
For my 72th birthday, I vowed to do something completely different from what I normally do.
I would celebrate my birthday sober.
No dope or beer.
For pleasure, just sex – the best natural high.
I would repeat a ST with Fah that I had on Sunday night.
Yes, that will be my birthday gift to me.
At around 8 pm, I leave my hotel room and walk up soi 4.
I spot Fah immediately, standing at her usual spot.
I cross the street and watch her smile when she sees me.
“Where you go?” she asks.
I lean close to her and say, “I come to see you.”
Fah’s face brightens as I tell her, “Let’s go,” touching her shoulder in a friendly gesture.
The other freelancers are staring at us as we walk past them.
I take a few photos of Fah while following her down the soi to the ST hotels.
I quickly notice Fah has gained considerable weight in her lower body – as most ladies do in the natural aging process.
No use resisting Father Time who always wins.
Accept what is.
No one here gets out alive.
I sneak a photo of Fah entering our ST hotel.
Inside the room, I take a reflective shot of Fah’s mirror image.
So here we are now, only now.
Just Fah and me, on my 72nd birthday.
“Hello, stranger
It seems like a mighty long time.”
After the usual undressing and taking brief showers, I have Fah lie on the bed and start my ritual “massage.” I straddle her, resting on her upper thighs just below her ass, and start massaging her back.
Fa doesn’t seem to be enjoying the massage that much, compared to our first short-time session four days ago.
Yeah, massaging Fah’s body again somehow feels a bit less exciting.
Maybe because of familiarity already?
Be Careful
I remember an amusing incident during our first short-time on Sunday, four nights ago.
While entering the threshold of the hotel room, I had stumbled over the raised edge of the floor and stubbed my toe.
“Ow,” I said loudly.
Startled, Fah said, “Be careful!” in a concerned voice.
I just laughed. It was only a minor bump really.
But Fah said she will be in big trouble if I get hurt.
“Well you be careful too,” I joked. “Many bad farangs you meet in your job. Good farangs, bad farangs, young farangs, old farangs, weird farangs.”
To my amusement, Fah would repeat “Be careful” several times – as if I was a feeble old man likely to trip and fall anytime. But that thought was also mildly disturbing.
I started teasing Fah, yelling “Be careful!” several times afterwards, when we were leaving the room and the hotel.
While massaging Fah that first time, I had noted her big solid legs. But her legs were shapely and smooth, and her skin also felt good to touch and stroke.
I noticed in the dim lighting, the skin color of Fah’s arms and hands was very dark.
A typical Issan girl from Buriram.
I was glad to see that Fah did not have any tattoos.
While idly chatting, I found out that Fah now has a daughter, age 4.
Fah’s mother cares for her daughter back home, and Fah regularly sends money to her.
Fah split up from her daughter’s Thai father three years ago.
A familiar story I’ve heard so many times from the ladies.
There is nothing new under the sun.
While Fah was friendly enough, I could feel a distance between us, a barrier or boundary of sorts.
It was a reminder that our ST is just a financial transaction – nothing more.
Admittedly, while massaging Fah’s plump but firm, shapely ass and her thick legs, I wasn’t especially turned on.
Yeah, it seems to me Fah is not that sexual.
She’s not a “horny” bargirl. Fah is more like the “girl next door” – but also a girl who fucks for money.
I briefly wondered what is Fah’s “origin” story, of how she became a hooker at a young age. But it didn’t seem like a good time to ask her that.
When I asked Fah how many customers a night she averages, she said about two or three, and then she goes home.
I remember enjoying the sight of Fah’s pretty face while giving me a blowjob before fucking.
My dick was thankfully still hard and strong.
I had started by fucking Fah in shallow strokes as she winced and gasped.
But she now seemed to like it somewhat, compared to when I first began fucking her in 2015.
Several years ago, I actually spotted Fah in a YouTube video and saved it.
The video was posted in 2019 by a Vlogger filming the Nana area. Fah only appears in it briefly.
One thing that cracked me up about Fah back then was how she was willing to fuck really old farangs.
A couple times I saw Fah walking to the ST hotel with stooped-over guys with white hair and potbellies who looked ready for nursing homes.
I would stare in amused amazement at the sight.
I guess I should feel fortunate in being a typically short and slim Asian-American. I’m not fat or bald, and relatively agile for my age.
I suppose I do look younger than I really am, especially in dim lighting that masks my wrinkles.
A couple of surprised P4P ladies said that to them, I look about age 60.
Anway, my “reunion” short-time with Fah on Sunday night was a very pleasant fuck session.
After entering Fah’s pussy, I had continued to push my stiff dick deeper into her, pushing slowly, slowly…. Yesssss.
I enjoyed deeply thrusting into Fah, watching her gasp and wince with each balls-deep thrust.
It seemed Fah was getting turned on by the fucking – but whether her pleasure was real or fake, I had no idea.
I recall she had reached up and began tweaking my nipples while I was pounding her.
When I leaned down close to her face, she turned sideways to avoid kissing.
Yeah, OK with me.
False intimacy anyway.
If Fah doesn’t like kissing a wrinkled grandpa farang stranger, why make her do it?
A selfish fantasy really.
I then pressed Fah’s legs together, and began fucking her in missionary-prone bone.
Fah’s pussy felt so tight, I almost spurted.
So I flipped her over to finish in doggie prone-bone position, where she’s lying flat on the bed face down.
I slammed into Fah’s plump but firm big ass with hammering lust.
Yes it felt pleasant, but somehow . . . eh.
The thrill is gone.
I pounded Fah hard, but not for long.
I got close to spurting, then . . . not.
Yep, it was going to be one of these nights where I was not going to “finish.”
So, I just kept going a while more, then I slowed down, and then stopped.
I began massaging Fah’s back while my dick was still inside her pussy.
“You okay?” Fah had asked me.
“Yeah, I’m okay,” I replied. “We just relax now. Five more minutes.”
Fah had laid there passively while I massaged her, sometimes tenderly, sometimes forcefully – savoring the feel of her young body and the pleasant sensation of touching or pressing against her smooth skin.
As my dick softened, I sensed that Fah would not linger much longer like this.
I finally rolled off her, and said, “I do oil massage.”
“I no like oil,” Fah said.
I then explained to Fah that many massage parlors offer oil massages with happy endings.
“You pay 300 baht for oil massage, and maybe 500 baht more for handjob and 1,000 baht for boom-boom,”
“Really?” Fah asked, interested.
Afterward we finished and got dressed. Fah did not object to a few photos.
I noted Fah was not as pretty as when she was younger. She had lost the fresh bloom of her youth. And her butt got really big.
In fact, I wasn’t even totally sure if she was the Fah I fucked so long ago.
But if she is, then she seems friendlier now.
Yeah, age tends to mellow you out, I’ve observed, both in myself and others.
A Bitter Breakup
I recall that Fah and I had an angry falling out, sometime in 2015.
On that night, Fah was sitting on a ledge in front of her usual spot, when I approached her for a short time.
Unexpectedly, Fah said I now had to pay 1,500 baht instead of the usual 1,200 baht.
I explained that since I have to pay 300 baht for the ST room, all I can pay is 1,200 baht.
Fah shook her head and said irritably, “1,500 baht!”
She then looked away and stared straight ahead, ignoring me.
I looked down at her in disbelief.
The fucking bitch!
She was acting like I’m a total stranger.
I then saw clearly in that instant.
Being her regular customer meant nothing to Fah.
I snapped in addict rage.
Fuck her!
I walked away furiously, vowing never to have a ST with Fah ever again.
After that I would ignore Fah while walking to the ST hotel with other freelancers.
I did my best to avoid having Fah see me as much as possible.
I remember once when Fah made eye contact as I was walking past. She had smiled at me tentatively, hopefully.
I just glanced at her coldly and kept walking
It was like I killed Fah in my head and she no longer existed. Because that’s how I have coped with my repressed anger and rage all my life.
But here we are now, me and Fah – nearly 10 years later – having a “reunion” short-time.
Does any of that past shit really matter now?
What was all that anger and rage about anyway?
Why even bother with the fucking past, now that I’m an official cancer survivor?
Yeah, back in August the doctors had successfully zapped the 3 tumors in my prostate in five radiation sessions.
What a fucking ordeal that was!
But most importantly, my “fairly aggressive” cancer had not spread beyond my prostate.
So for the next five years at least, I have a nearly 100 percent statistical chance of survival from this common cancer of old men.
But while I am so grateful to be alive, I feel like the End of Days phase of my life has begun.
When you are in your seventies, it’s not uncommon to die suddenly or very quickly from a stroke, heart attack, aggressive terminal cancer, etc.
How long more can this go on?
I was dead certain that Fah does not remotely remember that last angry encounter in 2015.
And she obviously does not remember me as a former customer.
So I just kept it to myself that we had once fucked each other somewhere in time.
Later, after Fah and I had finished our “reunion” short time and left the hotel, we briefly walked through the narrow alley toward soi 4 in silence.
After about 10 meters, Fah said, “See you.”
I knew it was the signal for us to separate – because she did not want to walk alongside me on the street.
The fucking is over – so we go back to being strangers.
I recall I had felt a mild crying urge.
The futility of it all.
A short fuck encounter, pleasantly sensual, my dick inside Fah’s pussy, mild conversation, and then it’s over.
Split.
Bye bye.
But I chose this.
So no one to blame.
Now, Only Now
And now, here we are again, four days later, in the same ST hotel for my birthday fuck.
So I’m repeating my familiar ritual of massaging Fah before proceeding to sex.
During the massage, I tell Fah it’s my birthday, and that I’m treating myself to a birthday present by doing boom-boom with her.
“Can you believe I’m 72?” I say to Fah. Yeah, just be honest.
Why lie about my age? Does it really matter now?
I’m shocked by Fah’s reply.
“Tomorrow is my birthday,” she says.
Wow.
Isn’t life strange?
“Happy birthday,” Fah says, lying on the bed and turning her head sideways to talk to me.
“I wish you good things and happiness to you and that you have a good life,” she says.
I thank Fah and wish her well too.
I ask Fah how old she will be tomorrow, and she says age 27.
I then ask Fah what she plans to do on her birthday.
I certainly hope not fuck farangs for money!
Fah replies that she will celebrate her birthday by going to the temple in the morning.
“And after you go temple, then what will you do?” I ask.
Fah replies she will go to a karaoke bar later that night with her aunt and enjoy herself.
“Yeah, good idea,” I say. “Get drunk and sing and be happy.”
“No, I don’t drink alcohol,” Fah says. “I don’t like.”
“Yeah, it’s good you don’t drink,” I say. “It’s very unhealthy.”
Fah seems to be enjoying her massage more as I tenderly stroke her back.
While I greatly appreciated Fah’s well wishes for my birthday and my life, I still felt a slight pang that she could not offer me more for my birthday.
Like … what?
I don’t know. A present?
I knew it was a laughably childish notion.
Isn’t Life Strange?
I suddenly flash back to one of the weirdest encounters of my life during my birthday many years ago.
I was in my mid or late thirties, I don’t recall exactly.
I was going to celebrate my birthday by doing what I had normally had been doing since my early twenties.
Get stoned and try to fuck a hooker.
And yet on that night, before leaving the house, I had walked out into the backyard and looked up at the sky, and felt a strange loneliness.
Later, while I was stoned and cruising around Ala Moana shopping center, I saw a young blonde chick and struck up a conversation with her.
I was thinking maybe I can pick her up and fuck her.
Then she freaked me out.
“Today is my birthday,” she said. “What are you going to buy me?”
WTF!
Isn’t life strange?
I recall being turned off and weirded out – meeting another loner like me on our birthdays – but this weird chick was so self-absorbed, so selfish.
I was taken aback by her demand.
What kind of fucked-up chick asks a stranger to buy her a present for her birthday?
I quickly made some excuse and walked quickly away.
In hindsight, I should have replied to her, “Today is my birthday too. What are you going to buy me?”
Of course the only present I really wanted from the weird chick was her pussy.
About a week after my birthday, mom and I were having a dreary dinner at a cheap coffee shop, when mom suddenly stopped and looked at me, stricken. She looked as if she wanted to cry.
Mom then apologized that she had forgotten my birthday last week, so we didn’t go out for a birthday dinner at a nice restaurant.
I of course knew my mom was not to blame – after that devastating aneurysm stroke struck like a thunderbolt at age 54 – and instantly ended her world as she knew it.
Still, I did feel a bit sad, thinking back to when I was in the backyard of our house, gazing up at the peaceful night sky, high on dope, and feeling a stab of loneliness that I was spending yet another birthday alone.
The Best Gift of All
After a while, I finish massaging Fah.
It’s time to get ready for my birthday fuck.
I lie back on the bed as Fah begins giving me a blowjob to get me hard.
It feels pleasant to gaze at Fah’s still-pretty face while she’s sucking.
Then . . . sigh.
My weary old dick does not seem to have power tonight.
But Fah keeps sucking strongly and rhythmically, and my dick gets semi-hard.
I quickly tell Fah to lie down so I can enter her in missionary position.
“Hurry, Hurry!” I urge her, fearing my dick will get soft without stimulation.
Fah slips a condom on my dick and applies some lube.
I enter her and manage to barely get some penetration. Not much, at least enough to be inside her pussy.
We go at it, and I can feel my dick stiffening somewhat.
I tell Fah that I only took 5 grams of Cialis today, so maybe I might not have much power.
“Be careful!” Fah says.
She then explains, “I hear the story of old man who take Viagra, and he die while having sex.”
I reply, “Yes, I want to die having sex with you. I want go to heaven while inside your pussy.”
Fah laughs in horror.
“No! No” she protests. “Don’t die!”
I laugh and keep joking, “I’m in heaven now, with my dick inside your pussy – and then I go to the real heaven right after.”
“If you die, I get in big trouble,” Fah answers worriedly. “Police come arrest me. Ask me why you die.”
I laugh and reply, “Just tell them, ‘He old man, that’s why he die – heart attack.’”
But because of the distraction and joking around, my dick has softened.
It’s just barely inside Fah’s pussy.
I push Fah’s legs together for missionary-prone bone for a tighter fit, but my limp dick slips out.
So I just mash my soft dick against the outside of her pussy with her legs closed.
“Can you feel it?” I ask.
“I can’t feel anything,” she replies.
I then start vigorously pumping my hips, as if actually fucking.
“Well I fuck you like this,” I say, as I start dry humping her, slamming my body down against her groin area.
Fah just laughs because my soft dick is not even inside her pussy.
“You like that, baby?” I ask. “I fuck you hard, and you like that!”
I continue slapping my genitals against Fah’s pussy mound for a few minutes more while hugging her tightly.
Eventually I let up and relax, and lie alongside her.
Fah reaches out and starts to fondle and jerk off my limp, useless, rubber-sausage dick.
“How about I finger-fuck your pussy,” I say to Fah.
“No, I don’t like,” she replies.
I then say, “How about I fuck your ass.”
“No, I don’t like that!” she says.
I laugh and say, “I just joking. Many farangs like to fuck ass. But I don’t do that. It’s not natural.”
Fah continues fondling my dick, but I say, “Forget about fucking. Maybe I not finish tonight.”
I sit up and say, “Let me massage your body.”
As Fah lies there, I start smoothly stroking her body, and continue down her arms to her hands.
“You have small hands,” I say to Fah, marveling. “Look how small and beautiful your hands are.”
I copy what the Thai masseuses do.
I squeeze and press the palms of Fah’s hands, and then pull on each finger, trying to “crack” the knuckles. I closely examine her fingernails, which are short and trimmed.
I run my hands down her legs, and note that her toenails are painted sky blue.
“You not have tattoos,” I note, gazing at her unblemished body.
“No, I don’t like tattoos,” Fah says.
“Good,” I say. “Farang no like lady with tattoos either.”
“No need boob job either,” I add, noting Fah’s flat chest.
“I like natural lady,” I say. “Your body is OK. It’s perfect.”
I add, “God give you perfect body.”
You lucky,” I say. “You are young, sexy, with a pretty face.”
“Thank you,” Fah replies.
“I walk around Nana, and most of ladies are old or fat, not look good. You are one of most sexy cute ones,” I say. “It’s true!”
I lie back alongside Fah, as she idly plays with my dick. But I realize the futility of her gentle handjob.
No use beating a dead dog dick.
But I’m actually really enjoying myself, just lying next to Fah – not really caring that I didn’t give her a pounding fuck on my birthday.
I already did the porn-style hammering fuck during our last short-time several days ago.
So I know what it feels like. I don’t really need to repeat it.
Just remember how it felt.
“You lucky tonight,” I tell Fah. “I not strong, so easy work for you.”
I add, “I bet sometimes Farang with big dick fuck you hard. You must meet all kind of farang – good farang, bad farang. You have to be strong lady to work this job. Cannot be weak lady.”
Fah doesn’t reply and just nods her head.
“You ever visit Pattaya?” I say.
“Sometimes, when my aunt go there for business,” Fah says.
“They have many ladies work there, same like Nana,” I say.
“No I stay in Bangkok,” Fah replies.
“Bangkok is big city. But Pattaya is more smaller,” I say. “And it has the beach, and ocean.”
I add, “But the water is dirty, so cannot swim in the ocean.”
I ask Fah if she knows how to swim, and she says No.
“I teach you how swim,” I say.
“No, I don’t like water,” Fah replies irritably.
I think to myself, man, this chick doesn’t like many things.
She doesn’t like strong massage, doesn’t like oil massage, doesn’t like finger fucking, doesn’t like ass-fucking, doesn’t like tattoos, doesn’t like the ocean.
“Well, what do you like,” I ask her. “What you like to do – for fun and relax?”
“I like to go home to my family,” Fah replies. Visit my daughter and my mother. Go to the zoo. Have fun and relax. Go to the market.”
“Yeah, OK,” I say, conceding. “That sounds like fun.”
It feels like it’s time to go. It’s been nearly an hour.
I tell Fah that it’s OK if I don’t finish tonight, I still enjoyed myself.
We get up and take brief showers.
While washing my dick, I playfully splash water on Fah as she protests.
I also slap her ass hard as I leave the shower.
“I spank you because you bad girl,” I joke.
After we get dressed, Fah allows me to take a few photos.
“I want to remember this night, my birthday,” I tell her. “I want to remember you.”
Then it’s time to pay, as Fah sits on the bed, waiting.
So I pull out my wallet – and give Fah 3,000 baht.
Her eyes widen in shock, as she hesitates before taking the money.
“This is for your birthday tomorrow, for when you go karaoke,” I tell her. “I want you have a nice time.”
Fah joyfully thanks me and gets up to hug me.
“Happy birthday,” I say to her.
“You too,” she replies.
It feels so good, knowing my money should greatly help Fah pay for her karaoke night.
We leave the short-time hotel together and walk down the alley toward soi 4.
“What a nice night,” I say to Fah, placing a friendly hand on her shoulder.
The air feels pleasant against the skin – not cold, not hot.
“What a great night to be alive,” I say.
We reach soi 4 and separate to go our own ways.
I pat her gently on the shoulder and say “Take care.”
I walk back to my hotel, feeling happy at giving Fah the money.
I start crying briefly. I don’t know why.
I wasn’t really sad.
It was just a feeling of – doing something good for someone else on my birthday.
And I’m sober too.
The best present really to myself.
Later that night, Fah sent a LINE message, thanking me for my generous gift.
The next morning, on her birthday, I sent her a greeting.
But that was to be our last contact.
I left Bangkok three days later. Neither of us had texted each other about a third ST.
I felt OK, and even slight relief.
We had stayed with reality, not fantasy.
I was glad, even “happy,” you might say – at how everything had turned out.
In my fragile emotional state, my fleeting ST encounters with Fah are as good as it gets for me.
No regret, at all.
While later checking Fah’s Line Profile, I sadly noted what she had posted under her name.
“No One Can Feel Your Pain”
A long time ago, I bought a card at a Bangkok gift shop with a similar message.
I was going give the card to a BKK sex worker at a blowjob bar who was struggling in a serious crisis.
She temporarily jobless at age 27, having quit her job in a fit of anger at her uncaring boss,
and at a crossroads in her life.
But she was smart, and strong, and she had already decided to open her own blowjob bar, entirely on her own.
So I bought the card as a gesture of support.
But I never gave her the card or visited her new blowjob shop, mainly because I knew that as the owner, she would not be doing blowjobs.
Her blowjob shop, 7-Heaven on soi 33, became quite successful.
More than a year had passed before I finally decided to visit her shop.
But I was crushed to find out that she had sold the bar and returned to her home province, presumably as a very wealthy person.
Bye bye sweet Ai.
I was so obsessed with you!
But I also knew you were out of my league – and not interested in me at all as a possible boyfriend, or even a sugar daddy.
I was just a 62-year-old poor farang, jobless at the time, struggling to just survive in Bangkok.
I actually felt unworthy of you, because you were making a lot more money than I could ever hope to make, while working at that blowjob bar.
But to me the biggest barrier between us was age. I was so much older than you.
Yet you were tactful and cool, and never once asked how old I was.
I also remember you telling me how your ex-husband had left you with two young daughters to go live with another chick.
“My heart is not open,” you had said to me.
So I kept my distance and my dignity during our sexual encounters – while suffering silently in heartache and hopeless fantasy.
My sweet, strong, funny, classy Ai – I only wish now for your happiness and minimal suffering – wherever you are.
But now all that is buried in the past. Ai only exists as a distant memory in my aging brain.
No matter what, life goes on – and the world keeps turning.
So bye bye Fah – my fussy P4P cutie who doesn’t like many things.
Still, I would be glad if we ever meet again someday for a short-time – for Auld Lang Syne.
“We’ll take a cup of kindness yet,
For auld lang syne.”
While walking along soi 8, I was passing by a spa, and saw the same water sculpture from when I first visited Bangkok in 2012.
I noticed something that saddened me – its surface was starting to erode from continually flowing water.
Nothing lasts.
Not rock or stone or mountain, or us.
Everything is so fucking fleeting in this life.
I then recalled the Japanese concept of “Wabi-Sabi” that finds beauty in the aging process.
I looked the word up on google – and was startled by my own tears that suddenly began flowing.
