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After eating I decide that if I stay a second longer I’ll get too comfortable, blow the dentist and stay in the bar for the day. I head back to my room and spend the next hour or two dozing and watching the mentalism that is Thai TV.

Just as I’m really starting to get settled my phone alarm tells me its time for the chair. I knock it off and stumble off the bed towards the bathroom, absently scratching the back of my head. I bare my teeth, or what’s left of them, in the mirror. One of the front two been snapped off mid-way up, and a fang has a chunk missing. When I smile I look like a pikey.

A fascination with Thailand – which I carried home at the end of my last visit – is to blame for this. After a tearful goodbye in the airport departure lounge I had headed home feeling like shit and missing Noy. She was all I could think about on the journey and things didn’t improve when I arrived home. We emailed each other all the time and I spent a fucking fortune on phone bills, but it didn’t help. I just had to be with her.

Everybody has heard the stories of middle-aged fuck-ups getting sick of their minging wives and heading off to Thailand to shack-up with the first bargirl who smiles at them. They fool themselves into thinking that these girls genuinely like them, but it’s clearly bullshit. It was different story with me. I’m not old, I’m not fat and I didn’t arrive in Thailand desperate for a shag. There’s also the fact that there’s neither kid nor wife to keep me at home. Noy is a bargirl, but the relationship that developed wasn’t what you get between a hooker and a monger. We are just two people around the same age who hit it off.

I met her on the second night I spent in Bangkok on my maiden trip to the LOS. I had spent the first night with an Australian girl who approached me under a stunningly shoddy pretext when, I was walking down Sukhumvit. After drinking my first of many beer Changs in my hotel lobby I took to the streets. After a few minutes I noticed someone walking close behind me, but before I turned round I got a tap on the shoulder from a blonde girl with a round, cute face. She told me that some guy had been following her for the last couple of blocks and asked if she could walk with me for a while.

“What does he look like?” I asked, turning around in the hope that I might catch a glimpse of the mystery assailant.

“Don’t look na! Jast keep wulking,” she answered in a posh Sydney accent, looking genuinely uncomfortable.

“Grand, no bother,” I said, as she linked my arm.

I had spent most of the previous year fruitlessly trawling Sydney for any Australian girl willing to give the time of day to one of the tens of thousands of Irish lads who had invaded their city. Pulling Australia’s European ex-pats didn’t prove beyond me and the Aussie girls in the other cities were surmountable, but Sydney was a total write-off. They just didn’t want to know. Nonetheless, here was a good-looking middle upper-class daughter of that very city practically jumping on a bould son of God’s green kingdom, in the middle of a Bangkok soi.

I asked her did she want to go for a drink, she obliged and a few hours later she was back in my hotel admitting she wasn’t being followed. She just wanted to talk to me and couldn’t think of another way of striking up a conversation. I didn’t mind. I enjoyed fucking her. However, the reason for her eager attitude had hit me earlier while I was plying her unnecessarily with bottles of Heineken in a small pool bar near Soi five. The place was full of sleek, demure Thai girls who kept throwing smiles at me whenever the Aussie girl went to the toilet. The place was crawling with them. The abundance of these sexy little fuckers turned the game I was normally forced to play on its head, leaving Farang girls snookered. Even the western girls who would be considered a catch just couldn’t compete with their Thai counterparts.

Despite enjoying the night I spent with her I had to decline when she asked me to go to Phuket with her the next morning. I had come to Thailand to shag Thai girls, not over-bearing Farangs. We bid our goodbyes and my holiday began in earnest.

That night I headed out determined not to be sidetracked. I was going to pull a Thai girl if it killed me. As I hopped out of a tuk tuk at Soi Cowboy it became clear that this wouldn’t be necessary. The place was heaving with girls, dozens of which seemed better looking than anyone I’d had the opportunity to lay my mitts on in my 23 years on the planet. I decided to take my time and pick out a real cracker, but it didn’t really work out that way.

I walked the length of the street, gawking like a mug at girls begging punters to come into their bars. I literally had to battle my way through mobs of smiling goddesses wearing sandwich boards and mini-skirts. One particularly persistent little hooker ran towards me screaming, “Handsome man! You come my bar!” She had a reasonably pretty face, but she was quite skinny and a bit too small. Worse though, was the manic look she sported. It scared the shit out of me. Despite my protestations she attached herself to my arm like a limpet and no amount of polite refusals could shift her. The diminutive little bitch, through a combination of threatening invitations and suggestive groin grabs, eventually forced me to relent. She pulled me back down the street in the direction I had come. She paused briefly to fire a self-satisfied grin at her assembled co-workers outside the door of Bar Baccara, before shoving me inside.

To be continued.

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