Once upon a recent time in Pattaya, a story unfolded which needs to be told, not because it is particularly humorous, but because it confirms that well-known adage that ‘there are none so mighty … etc.’ It is the story of a man who hails from the UK but has made Pattaya his home. For the sake of protecting his anonymity, I cannot, in all conscience, divulge which part of the Land of the Great Unwashed he originates from, but Robbie ‘Burns’ McGregor quickly became a legend among local pork swordsmen. His carefree life and carnal appetite was unfettered by the constraints of mortal morality and for many years, Pattaya has been his playground.

It so happened that – let’s call him ‘Robbie’ – had a favourite alehouse. The quality of the amber fluid on offer was no better than any other alehouse in town but it was the quality of the entertainment which set this establishment above most of the rest. Appearance-wise, the gaggle of dancing starlets was above average. Clothing-wise, their dress code was well below average. For many, the dress code was non-existent. Personality-wise, the ladies were a total blast. Contrary to the ‘sex slave’ garbage promoted by morons in the press, these ladies had unbridled fun at their work where each day became one big party, with or without customers. And Robbie was more than pleased to be part of it all.

Adding to his enjoyment was the personal challenge he set himself; to sample the delights of as many of the staff as possible for a man in his reclining years. With no pretence or hiding of this fact, he quickly became known as an accursed ‘butterfly’ but, to their credit, the ladies accepted his character flaw on the chin. After all, in the true spirit of sisterhood, if he was going to spread himself around, it was better for all concerned if he did it ‘in house’ so to speak. Theoretically, this type of philandering has no expiry date but, in practice, it has a definite life expectancy. Simple random sampling from a finite population means that some of the numbers will eventually repeat. On the other hand, one inherent defect in the ‘butterfly strategy’ is that the more samples you take, the more chance there is of finding one you really like. In Robbie’s case, his ultimate demise was due to both these factors.

To say Lek is beautiful is an understatement but to say she is not intelligent is a gross miscarriage of justice. She is a woman, not a Barbie doll, with a plan to secure her future. But even though she knows what she wants and she knows how to get it, she is not like the few hard-core disinterested players around town. Those men who have come to know her wonderful sense of humour, her forthrightness and her caring personality agree she would make some man a great partner. When Robbie first met Lek, she was just one of the many, but it soon became apparent whenever Robbie was in attendance the chances of her having an ‘off’ for an hour increased.

What happens when a professional womanizer and a professional man-hunter meet head on? It should be the Clash of the Titans or the equivalent of War of the Worlds, but surprisingly, it’s not. There seems to be a mutual respect for each other’s position, thus the bullshit and superficial small talk become redundant. The interaction is at a far more honest level. That is not to say the game playing stops because each person still has the ingrained desire to win. The mind games merely go up a gear, turning more subtle and far more interesting.

The first game was initiated by Robbie. Following several sporadic overnight visits to his condo, Lek accepted his suggestion that any night she did not have a ‘customer’, she was welcome to come and stay with him after she finished work at 1:00am. She subsequently stayed with him perhaps one in every three nights. One particular evening, Robbie received a phone call from Lek. She said she would not be coming over that night because she had been bar fined for the entire night. “No problem,” said Robbie, wondering why she had even bothered to tell him. Then she explained that her ‘customer’ wanted to shave her nether region [naughty bits] as part of the deal, and she was calling to ask Robbie if he minded.

Temporarily in shock, Robbie didn’t know what to say. Here was a lady, not really his girlfriend as such, merely a part-time squeeze, calling him not because she was about to have sex with another guy but because the pratt wanted to get his jollies using a safety razor! For no particular reason other than being obstinate, Robbie said yes, he did mind. “Ok, I tell him he cannot,” replied Lek before hanging up.

Show me a Western woman who would be polite enough, considerate enough or game enough, to do that. Then tell me that, as far as Lek is concerned, it was not a brilliant idea. In the battle for mental supremacy, give the man what he wants – a sense of power; of being in control. Round one to Lek.

Some years ago I coined the term ‘Toothbrush Conspiracy’ to describe the method by which a Bar Hostess can stealthily worm her way into a man’s life, usually without him even being aware of it. The strategy is, once a lady has stayed overnight several times, she ‘accidentally’ leaves her toothbrush behind in the bathroom. If the guy lets it pass or says nothing, some items of makeup soon follow. Then some of her clothing appears in his wardrobe. Before he realizes it, all her worldly goods are in his home and she has no reason to leave.

Over the next few weeks, this is exactly what happened to Robbie. But he is only partly stupid because, even though he knew what was happening at the time, he let it go for too long. He finally decided to bring the relationship to a close by affectionately telling Lek, “Tomorrow you have to go back work bar. Take all your things with you.” Although reluctant, she seemed to understand her time had come.
The next day when they awoke mid morning, Lek whimpered, “I not feel so good. Sore throat. Sore back. I think I take day off today.” Round two to Lek.

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The status quo prevailed for another month but I knew the contest was over the day I received a text message from Robbie saying, “Lek and I will be away for a few days on our honeymoon.” Game, set and match to Lek … and another one bites the dust.
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