5 Months, 19 Days, still sober.
Mobi’s Sunday Best
Yesterday, I attended my first social function, outside of a bar, in a very long time.
When I still lived with Dang, we used to have quite a lot of social events at home. Family and friends, both farang and Thai, would come over on a weekend to join us at our huge pool-side terrace to eat drink and be merry. Dang loved to cook and she always fed our guests with delicious food, mainly Thai, but she could even turn her hand to some great western snacks which were always devoured with equal gusto.
Then there would be were the regular rounds of the houses of our friends around the lake, mainly farangs with Thai wives or girlfriends and they would always be occasions for copious amounts of beer and wine and much alcohol-fuelled mirth and sometimes acrimonious arguments.
I left Dang and my home by the Lake in September, 2009 and after that, up to the end of last year, my life was in total free fall. I had many drunken misadventures, accidents and went into an ever deeper depression which took me to places I never want to go to again. At my lowest point, I couldn’t even contemplate functioning until I got the buzz of beer or whisky inside my brain of a morning and despite taking high daily doses of anti-depressive drugs, I became seriously suicidal.
So attending any kind of social event during that very dark period of my life was simply not on my calendar; not that anyone in their right mind would have dreamed of inviting me. I was actually invited to the wedding party of one of my old drinking mates about 6 months ago, but as my estranged wife, Dang was also invited, I decided to give it a miss.
Frankly, I have never been big on these kinds of social events, or indeed the kind of formal dinners and evenings out with friends, acquaintances or business colleagues. I have always hated the asinine, meaningless social chit-chat that one is obliged to take part in on such occasions. If the attendees happen to be mainly good, personal friends then it is OK and we can let our hair down; make outrageous jokes, politically incorrect pronouncements on world events and generally have a good time.
But more often than not, the party will consist of many people with whom I have only had a passing acquaintance, or who I have never previously met; so we all have to ‘dance around’ social niceties, trying desperately hard to be witty and entertaining, while at the same time holding back on any genuine thoughts or opinions. What a load of old bullshit!! The only redeeming feature of these dreaded social events was that I could always get stuck into whatever alcohol was on offer, usually an endless supply of wine. Once I get pissed, the whole ridiculous nonsense of the occasion would pass blissfully over me and I no longer felt the need to take heed to the hypocritical rubbish spewing from the mouths of jumped up little squirts, all trying to convince the enthralled crowd that their car/house/holiday-home/boat was bigger and better than anyone else’s.
I am sure you have all met the obligatory, typically outrageous drunk at such social events; the one who speaks a little too loud, insults a few unsuspecting guests and makes crude jokes that everyone is too embarrassed to laugh at. That was Mobi.
So it was with a small amount of trepidation that I made the journey around the lake with my little Noo to attend an afternoon barbecue party being thrown by my friend Rick, who was celebrating his wife’s return home for a few days. I had met Rick’s wife briefly before, but all the other attendees were strangers to me. This was my first social escapade outside of a bar environment for a very long time. But it was more than this; it was to be my first foray into the domestic territory of alcohol-consuming adults where I would almost certainly be the only sober, non-drinking attendee.
One thing you can say about Rick is that he not exactly your regular, ‘typical’ farang in Pattaya, and it is probably for this reason that we get on so well. We never hold back on our thoughts and opinions and often have shouting matches with each other, but neither of us ever takes it personally and we always end up having a good laugh. We share very similar lives and working histories, (although in different fields), we are both very politically incorrect, both have a highly cynical, warped sense of humour and last, but not least, we both love the bar-life and the whores. We are both mongers.
So I suppose I should have had more confidence in the nature of his guests. What a motley collection! Firstly, there was a lovely married couple form Cambodia – they work there with Rick’s wife (who is Thai). The lady stayed very quiet but I was very impressed with the young Cambodian man who spoke excellent English and wasn’t afraid to join in the discussion on whatever the subject happened to be. I have noticed this before in my trips to Cambodia. The men there seem to be on a totally different plain to their Thai counterparts. Time and time again, even on my brief stays there I could discuss all manner of world events with regular Cambodian men, yet here in Thailand, even after all these decades, it is an extreme rarity to find a Thai man who I hold an intelligent discussion with on anything other than business, booze and women.
The next guest was Fritz, who if he dyed his hair orange, would have been the spitting image of Gene Wilder, the American comedy movie maker. He might well have been related, as Fritz was the first German I have ever met who actually had a sense of humour – a rare animal indeed. He led the charge in criticising my choice of car, a German made BMW, and laughed louder than everyone else when we got onto the Fawlty Towers ‘Don’t mention the War!’ jokes. Fritz tried to convince me that many years ago, the United nations was within one vote of approving German as the official world language instead of English. So I suggested that must have been in 1966 when England put paid to this ridiculous proposal by beating Gerry in the World Cup final. Even Fritz laughed but I think he was forcing himself.
Fritz had brought along his lovely German wife and after they conversed with each other briefly in German, my little Noo enquired as to what language they were speaking in. I explained that it was ‘Deutsch’, whereupon she exclaimed in Thai:
‘Oh, so he must be from Switzerland!’
‘No, he’s from Germany.’
‘The why is he speaking Deutsch? Do people from Germany also speak Deutsche?
I explained to Fritz that Noo was demanding to know why the Germans had stolen their language from the Swiss?
The next guest was a Dutch guy by the name of ‘Looze’ who was quick to inform me that he hadn’t stepped a foot in Holland since 1969 and held no responsibility for anything the Dutch had been up to for the past 40 years. He was busy expounding on this theme when a tall, dark, Thai lady appeared at the front gate, entered the compound and went directly over to our communal table and stood quietly behind him. Looze totally ignored her for at least 10 minutes but finally stopped talking for long enough to turn his head to ask her what she wanted.
‘I go now,’ she said, in broken English.
‘Ok, fine,’ Looze replied, as his lady promptly disappeared out of the gate from which she had entered 15 minutes earlier.
‘Where’s she gone?’ I tentatively asked Looze.
‘She’s gone home to sleep’.
‘Isn’t it a bit early?’ I enquired, looking at my watch. It was only 6 pm.
‘She always sleeps early, then when I get home and go to bed, she gets up and does the housework. It’s a very good arrangement; we hardly ever see each other.
Fair enough, I thought to myself.
Looze returned to addressing us on the Looze view of world events, (excluding his estranged Netherlands), and assured us all that there would be a civil war in China within the next 20 years, The British economy, along with the Euro, will soon collapse, a new, uncontrollable strain of HIV AIDS will sweep across the USA, taking out all millions of gays in its wake, and many similar dire predictions. This was a man after my own heart. Never hold back on what you believe in, Looze!
Then there was a late arrival -‘BigC’, (this time a Brit, thank God as I was starting to feel a bit outnumbered by garlic eating continentals), so-called because he looked about 7 foot tall and also because he used to work for that famous supermarket chain of the same name, but now happily retired. Quite what an Englishman was doing working for a French-Thai outfit was a bit of a mystery, but WTF do I know of such things?
BigC was a bit of a hoot and was soon making meaningful contributions to the heated discussion. Talk of the Euro’s imminent collapse soon moved to one of the main culprits – Greece. We then had a long, Greece-bashing session during which we all struggled to think of anything good that Greece had given to the world. Eventually, someone came up with the notion that the Greeks had invented ‘Latitude’ about 2,400 years ago. Latitude, eh? Very good, but not much use without ‘Longitude’ which wasn’t capable of being measured until the sixteenth century, by which time the Greeks had long since abandoned their classical language along with their philosophers, scientists and all those other ancient Greek geniuses.
Then finally, BigC came up with something at long last that modern day Greece had given to the world. ‘Prince Phillip!! Of Course – Phil the Greek! One of my all-time heroes, – every bit a fully-fledged whore-monger in his younger days and an outspoken, outrageous, politically incorrect figure throughout his long life. Now why didn’t I think of that? All is forgiven; my dear friends in Greece can stay in the stricken Euro zone for as long as their little Greek hearts desire.
By this time poor little Noo was getting bored out of her pretty little brain, but help was on hand. Well, help was needed anyway. There was a large barbecue and next to it a large amount of uncooked seafood, and no one seemed very interested in putting the latter into the former. So Noo got herself busy cooking up a storm for the assembled multitude. I knew there was a good reason why I had brought her with me.
The subsequent repast, brilliantly prepared by the three ladies, Noo, Mrs Rick and Mrs Fritz, was a veritable feast, although I couldn’t believe that three of the farang guests didn’t like squid. Didn’t like squid? How can anybody not like squid? I was totally disgusted that anyone could have such atrocious taste buds as to reject one of mine and God’s favourite seafood dishes. Never mind, all the more for me, Noo and the ladies….
It must have been around 7.30 p.m. when Rick announced that he had secured a pass to take the assembled male guests for a nightcap in one of the Lakeside bars. (Shades of gentlemen excusing the ladies and retiring to the smoking room….)
‘Oh, which bar?’ I innocently enquired.
‘Oh – er –I don’t know, really – how about Frogger?’
Frogger it was then – I wonder why?
There was a small delay as we had to wait for Noo to finish the washing up before I dropped her back home on my way around the Lake to Frogger. Sometimes these ladies are so inconsiderate…
We – Rick, Looze, Fritz, Cambo-Man and Mobi – eventually made it there at about 8 pm where we received the shock of our lives. The number of working girls had been decimated by a recent and sudden migration of a large contingent back to Petchabun. Why they had all deserted their posts was not forthcoming from those who remained. To make matters worse, my latest little darlin’, Net, was already ‘Net-booked’ by another ageing, pot-bellied bastard who had her massaging areas that I really didn’t want to know about.
Rick’s little Star Fish was still there, but as there weren’t any other available ladies, we had a quick confab and by a unanimous show of hands, elected to adjourn to the ‘Black Death’, a large, very raunchy establishment deep in the bowels of Nongprue municipality. ‘Black Death’ is noted for the raunchiness of its ladies and also for it in-house swimming pool, where for a small fee, you can swim and indulge all manner of interesting activities with naked young maidens.
Rumour has it that Black Death was raided by the cops one day, charging the ancient kraut- owner with indulging in lewd, pornographic swimming sessions. Herr Kraut, vehemently denied such charges and took the cops inside to his pool where there was a notable absence of naked females.
‘You see! All lies! Wicked lies!’ he had told the cops.
The cops had smiled and pulled an A4 page from their pocket. It was a copy of Herr Kraut’s Black Death website, which showed pictures of six young ladies astride six wrinkled, pot bellies in the shallow end of the Black Death swimming pool. I think that little contretemps might have cost Herr Kraut a Baht or two.
The Black Death had plenty of ladies – I think we counted over a dozen – some of which were very pretty indeed. Unfortunately the best of the bunch were already in the pool, showing off their lovely little naked bodies, in the company of a bunch sickeningly young, good looking Brits, most of whom even had heads of hair on them – an unusual sight on the Darkside.(Except for Mobi).
After a quick survey of the remaining ladies, I picked what I decided was ‘The Best of the Rest’ and soon had her eating out of my nameless parts. Rick and Fritz did likewise but the remaining guests stayed whore-less until the young Brits decided to call it a night. To our delight, they suddenly paid their bills, generously tipped their ladies and departed, leaving the place empty, save for our little gang and about a dozen happy, slightly richer hookers.
BigC, Cambo–Man and Looze soon hooked their hookers, and as is my custom, I looked around the newly available bunch and chose a second companion to join the first and share the comforting of Mobi.
I must say that both of my ladies were extraordinarily horny – or maybe it’s just handsome Mobi with the big hum that turns them on?☺.Between the two of them there was one lovely, perfect lady.
No.1 was a little ‘fleshy’ but had a lovely face and gorgeous, medium sized breasts with pert little upward pointing nipples that were just begging to be sucked. No. 2 was an older, but very slim little thing, with smooth, lithe legs and thighs, with a delightful little well-rounded bum. Put No. 1’s face and breasts with No.2’s figure and bum and you would have the perfect lady. Anyway, I had the best of the two of them and they were both desperate to fondle me in every area they could get their exploring hands into. No.1 then lifted up her black micro –mini dress above her shoulders, to reveal a totally naked body; firstly pushing her lovely nipples, one at time, into my waiting mouth, before re-positioning her little yum yum directly into my waiting chops. Then No. 2 took her turn…..
In the meantime, war had broken out between Rick and BigC’s lovely lady. Rick had joking suggested that Big C was fondling a lady-boy, but unfortunately the lady in question spoke perfect English and was not at all impressed. I thought for minute that it was all going to end badly, but BigC saved the day by purchasing his lady’s perceived insult for the grand price of 300 Baht. Honour was salvaged, (whoever would have thought that whores had honour?), and a show of hands indicated it was time to move on.
Our final port of call was one of my favourite establishments, Water-Works, off Nern Plub Wan, which I hadn’t been to for a couple of weeks or so. Water-Works is usually guaranteed to have good supply of above average ladies and we weren’t disappointed. There were enough available ladies to keep the entire party entertained, and as always, the greedy Mobi ended up with three. As at my previous caravansary, my 3 ladies were so up for it: so yet more high jinks and shrieking laughter. Half an hour of this and I suddenly felt exhausted; it was time to call it a day. I broke the bad news to my ever- drunker companions, paid up and drove home to my patiently waiting, ever-loving Noo, feeling more guilty than I care to admit. (Except to to you, dear readers.)
And thus ended my first tentative steps into the stratified social circles of the Darkside. I actually like Rick’s motley gang a great deal. They were a bunch of disparate, unconventional ‘one-offs’ and were a long way removed from most of the previous friends that I had made from time to time in Pattaya’s lakeside bars.
Although these guys clearly enjoy their booze, they are a long way from being heavy drinkers or alcoholics, and their behaviour reflected as much. I must admit to being a little surprised when Rick announced his plan to adjourn to Frogger, but I guess this is Thailand. The purpose of the trip was not to get blind drunk –which it would have been in my drinking days – but simply to find some friendly young female company for a few hours. And what’s the harm in that?
I was amongst a crowd of people drinking for many hours, both at Ricks’ home and later in the bars, but never once did I feel even the slightest urge to join them for a drink. I felt absolutely fine.
There is something else that I wish to share with you. All my life I have sought out booze to give me courage and to counter my natural shyness when with other people. As a young man, I was painfully shy and it was often only after I was pretty well ‘oiled’ that I could gather enough confidence to converse with strangers. As I have got older, this shyness has slowly dissipated, but it has always lurked in the background of my mind. But during the past six months, I can honestly say that I no longer feel any shyness whatsoever and I feel relaxed and can be my usual, effusive self with strangers, without having to resort to fuelling myself with ‘Dutch Courage’
Onwards and upwards…. My next blog will be on Tuesday.