What’s up mingemongers and moneyhoneys, my name’s Seven and this is my blog.
I hope you got out and painted the town a bit last week reader, because we’re in that all-too-brief weather pocket where Bangkok is miraculously not sweltering. It’s been downright pleasant, and it won’t last. So soak up them breezes while you can. This portly punter didn’t monger much, opting instead to open the balcony doors and practice ukulele while sipping CBD soda—another thing you should do while you still can, since the idiots in govt soon plan to put that genie back in the bottle.
What little redlighting I did can be summarized as follows:
On Tuesday I ventured out under stormy-looking skies, looking for a spot to smoke a Fat Bottom Betty. Shenanigan’s was too full, and G’s terrace was a bit crowded. I opted for Sunrise because their outdoor seating was vacant. I ordered a Corona—a terrible pairing with the cigar—and then G’s cleared out so I got the Mexican to go, walked over, and sat down with it at the restaurant with the best beer menu in Silom. On a whim I ordered a Limburgse Witte Lemon and alternated sips of both. ‘Twas like shifting back and forth between shit and sublimity, going from the Corona to the Witte, not unlike going from reading Dave the Rave to Bangkok Seven.
How’s this for a coincidence: On my walking way over, I passed by the old location where BKK’s first ever 7-11 used to be, on Patpong Soi 1. It closed during the lockdown and never reopened. And I really miss it, so I snapped a photo with the plan to moan about it on Twitter/X. Then when I shuffled from Shagz to Sunrise, I noticed something new going in in the old Topless Pool Hall location on Soi 2. I asked a builder, “Is this a new bar?” He shook his head and sad, “7-11.” Talk about kismet. I found out later though that it will be a CP–not as good as a 7, but close enough for redlight work.
Here’s a funny observation: A dude commented on one of my gogo dancer photos on X, thinking he was messaging the girl in the picture. This happens a lot with the low IQ crowd who don’t understand what they’re looking at online. They’re the same ones who think there’s a person inside every ATM machine who shoves the money through the slot when you make a withdrawal. Anyway, he offered to be the girl’s sugar daddy. Never mind that the photo was from 2019 and today that girl is a pudge monster. The dude thought that dropping a comment on a stranger’s photo would somehow lead to a sugar daddy/sugar baby arrangement. This poor fool thought a one-sentence offer from a fat, bald, creepy-looking stranger would somehow be alluring to a random hot gogo dancer. Like he sat back after hitting “send”, hands laced behind his head and said to himself, “And now I’ll just wait.” Even if the girl was at the other end of that thread, never in a million years would she be interested in an offer like that. I speak as someone with a decade and a half of sugardaddying. And for any other wannabes out there, here’s how you don’t get a sugar baby: don’t try to coax a girl you’ve never met into a sugar daddy situation. If you want a sugar baby, you have to get out from behind the keyboard, put on some clean pants, go to the places where the girls physically are, and speak to them in the flesh. When you do find a fetching filly, you need to 1—get to know her and her situation (she might not even need or want a sugar daddy) and 2—earn her trust over time, all while being likeable yourself. Only then will you have a chance of convincing a girl to consider you. And that’s only if there aren’t already a hundred hotter, wealthier guys making the same offer.
After the mismatched Mexican-Belgian beer fiasco, I got a plate of pad krapow with a side of sauerkraut—another strange pairing for a Tuesday. At 19.00 the boos from Miami Vice phoned to say their soft opening would be moved to Friday, to my great relief. I’ve been trying to cut down on midweek redlighting, especially on Wednesdays when my harem typically girls shows up at 21.30 and refuses to leave post-coitus. She’s partial to playing house and pretend-girlfriend behavior. Who can blame her? She’s 21 and plagued with delogamy (delusions of monogamy).
I made a quick run through the 3 King’s and Virgin, and saw girls I’d take to bed in every venue. On an effing Tuesday. And I’m picky when it comes to gogo dancers so Patpong’s still hosting some of the best ass in town.
Friday was all about Miami Vice—the new four-floor adult playground in Silom. The two top floors are still under construction but the ganja dispensary and gogo bar/gentlemen’s club are up and running. The main selling point of the place is their set of all-inclusive packages ranging from 8,250 for a 3-hour session with one gogo dancer, one beer tower, and a VIP sofa to 35k for a 3-hour sesh with 5 girls, 3 bottles, and a private room. And if that sounds steep, it’s because 1—that includes all tax and gratuity and 2—there’s one other perk that can’t be printed on the menu—namely, unlimited herb. If you’re just a punter and want to swing in for a beer or two, you can do that, too.
As I strolled down Silom Road under Sala Daeng Station on the Soi Thaniya side, about 30 meters ahead I spotted a girl in a black minidress who was way too hot to be just a random pedestrian. Sure enough, she swung into Miami Vice just ahead of me. Before I even saw her face, I knew from her aura that she was an old XXX Lounge dancer.
When Electric Blue closed so that it could be converted into The Steakhouse Co., many of the girls who worked there spent months trying to find a new gogo home that was as good a fit as old EB—to no avail. Then when The Steakhouse closed and re-morphed into XXX Lounge, some came back, trying to reclaim what leftover magic dust there might be from old EB. Then in the ensuing years, a new crop of youngsters came along to breathe new life into that stage, and that intrepid crew made a reputation as a gang of the loveliest, friendliest good-time party gals in the whole of Bangkok. Then the cops shut it down and threw the owner in jail, and the XXXers were tasked with finding a new home—again. For a time, that home was Whiskey’n’Gogo in Nana Plaza, a joint that changed to Essence in short order. Then the exXXXers splintered. Some stayed in Nana while others tried out Virgin when it opened in Patpong. On Friday, 80% of the original XXX crew nested down in a new home: Miami Vice on Silom Road. The soft opening was very soft, with mostly EB/XXX holdovers heading down to hang with their scantily-clad friends. Some of us will go anywhere these girls go, in an effort to recapture the feeling of XXX again. Any hope of getting something like Electric Blue back is long gone. But it was fun to have so many XXXers in one place again, so close to Patpong. You can never go home again, but you can find familiar surroundings, provided you’re surrounded by fantastic ex-Pongtang (Patpong poontang).
Our good friend Jack Nites was on hand to snap some photos, and the boss from GogoHopping was in the house, catching up with the manager (former head honcho of XXX Lounge). In short, Friday was a monger down memory lane with old friends/harem girls and familiar gogo dancers in a mixture of new digs and nostalgia. After three hours in Miami Vice, I was too smashed to do any real Ponging but I made it to K2 and Virgin for one drink each. It was a blur of ass and tits.
On Saturday I wanted to hit Nana and Cowboy, but my feet took me straight back to Miami Vice and then to Patpong. I’ve been missing the old Pong lately, and by ‘old’ I mean the early 20teens Patpong. Not the 1980s Patpong that so many old-timers wax wistfully about. I wasn’t old enough to monger back then, and had no notion of ever coming to Thailand, let along living out the rest of my days here. I miss when Thigh Bar was just a little gogo bar and not an obnoxious ping pong show. I miss Kiss Bar and Superstar, and Electric Blue and Black Pagoda. Even Goldfinger. And I really miss The Strip. Not the 2019 pre-Covid Strip, but the 2014-2016 Strip, back when Randy was running it and legends like Bangkok Toby would hang for a long session. The girls were otherworldly, both in hotness and in sweetness. For a decade, the girls of Electric Blue and The Strip were unmatched in Bangkok. We’ll never see crews like that again. Like the Los Angeles Lakers of the 1980s, and the 1970s Dallas Cowboys. Those chicks were the undisputed champions of the redlight. I spent an hour in MV just chilling with galpals. It’s just a casual, friendly atmosphere with hit chicks in lingerie. Then I bailed to K1.
In my everyday life, I don’t see, converse with, or rub elbows with Western women. The only time I catch glimpses of them is when I sit outside King’s 1 with a cigar and a black ruskie. They pass by in herds like meandering bovines. 99% are hideous, fat, misshapen things with disproportionate bodies, terrible fashion, and an air of entitlement that makes my gorge rise. They all seem to be holding their breath between chances to condescend to a man. The over 40s basically look like Western men, with faces scrunched into permanent scowls. Thai women really have to work to become that gross. They’re born naturally lithe, and only get disgusting after years of scarfing down American fast food and ice cream. I’ve been giving Earn a hard time because she’s gone chubby in her old age (see this week’s slideshow at the bottom of this post). She’s 23 and doesn’t realize she can no longer eat like a teenager. She told me on Saturday that she’s planning to join the military, that it’s been a dream of hers to defend her country. I told her she wouldn’t pass the physical.
Two American idiots tried to walk into King’s with bottles of Chang and were promptly escorted back outside. You can always tell a Yankee tourist because they put on an air of fake—or rather uncertain—arrogance. They board the plane thinking they’ll plunder Asia like great white conquerors, but deep down they’re subconsciously racked with insecurity and low self-esteem. At least, the millennials are. Eurodouche are preferable. The manbun mohawks and stinky tank tops boldly declare “I’m not conceited.”
At 22.45, eight ugly middle-aged farang women and one dude sat down in King’s 2. Half of them tried to refuse a drink order and were quickly set straight. Why they bothered to come in was a baffling mystery. Some seemed transfixed by the mostly-naked girls onstage. A few were keenly interested in me. I think some part of them thought to try to shame me for being there. But they had it all backwards. 3rd wave feminism belongs in Thailand like a fish belongs on a bicycle.
With the addition of Miami Vice to my Pong routine, I find I don’t have time to hit K Corner on a night. Not if I want to go to Virgin, which I of course do. Virgin was a madhouse. Thankfully the staff were there to guide me to an open seat. I tried to count the gogo dancers…I think they had two rotations of 20. I decided to start auditioning the three (or is it five?) hot superskinnies for consideration to join my harem. Saturday was one potentially lucky girl’s chance to earn a slot (a spot for her slit. On my harem). I got the lass a drink, played with her vajay for a bit, tested her sense of humor and observed the level of jealousy from the rest of the gals. She was a tight 40 kilos and had no qualms about rubbing my junk, but in the end, I couldn’t bring myself to get her Line. So she didn’t make the cut.
And that’s all the monger that’s fit to ponder for now, friends. Check back next Sunday for another summary of this redlight life. In the meantime, you can read more Bangkok-related stuff on my Substack: https://bangkokseven.substack.com/
Artwork and photo albums from inside the gogos are available for digital download at https://bentbox.co/bangkoksevenart at super-low prices.
A slideshow companion for this post can be found by scrolling down this page, and slideshows from previous blogs going back several years can be found at https://www.youtube.com/c/BangkokSeven
Follow me on Twitter/X @BangkokSeven for daily pics from the redlight, and until next time fellow BK Bukowskis and Bathshebas, keep your balls warm, your beer cold, and cheers to another week above ground in the greatest country on Earth: Thailand.
Pro Tip Post-Script: If you live in Thailand, you must embrace tattoos. Yeah, I know it’s a hard pill for some older dudes to swallow, and yeah, Western chicks with tatts are disgusting. But it’s par for the course in TLOS. It’s cultural. Tattoos on a Thai girl are like the lyrics to a song. They tell a story. And yeah, sometimes it’s a lame story. But more often than not, it’s a beautiful, tragic, poetic story. And coupling with her is like being immersed in her biography.
