What’s up mingemongers and moneyhoneys, my name’s Seven and this is my weekly confession. When I lived in the UK, a crew of my drinking buddies used to refer to some local slags as “fugly.” It was a combination of “fit” and “ugly,” and was their version of the “butterface,” meaning a lady with a hot body and unattractive visage. So in this post, when I refer to someone as “fugly,” that’s what I mean. Not the definition you’ll find if you Google it. I just wanted to make that clear.
At time of posting, I’ve officially been a Ptowner for one full week, and boy howdy, what a week it was. I’d like to take a moment to pat myself on the back for having the courage to leave behind a harem of faithful clunge in BK and start from scratch in a new town at my age. That said, it was stupidly easy to gather a new brood. This old cowpoke just rolled up his digital lasso (a ThaiFriendly/Line combo) and wrangled a few fillies without batting an eye. Unfortunately, none of them made the cut, and so I’m still on the hunt. But it was an informative week. Goddam if Pattaya didn’t give up a few secrets she’s kept from me for a decade. Here’s how the week shook out…
The move was easy enough. 8 boxes, 3 duffel bags, a set of samurai swords, and a memory foam mattress topper. I reserved a whole van just for me and my stuff. It probably wasnt the cheapest way to go but it was the smoothest. I was out the door and packed in the van in 20 minutes, under the bewildered gaze of the sclecurity staff who were stunned at my exit after 11 years. In case anyone wondered where my Silom centric, patpong adjacent condo was for all this time, it was in Diamond Tower, next to the Ching Nonsi BTS station.
It took 2 hours to get to ptown and an hour to get in the room and put everything away. And just as I finished up and sprawled on my bed for the first time, a shorttimer—one of four that I pre-conc’d via Thaifriendly over the precious month—texted to say she was coming over. So I forced myself into the shower, and 30 minutes later had christened the room. I hadn’t yet been in town for two hours. Then my buddy Dan messaged to say it was his last day managing a Soi 6 bar so I hopped a motaxi over to sit for a beer or three. On the 3rd road, a young farang on a giant scooter with no helmet blew past us, but had to brake for an old Thai couple motoring carefully up the soi. The cunt honked at them, and I nearly kicked his bike over. Disrespectful twat, he’s a guest in this country and has the nerve to get annoyed at the natives for interfering with his reckless driving. Fuck that piece of shit.
On the Six, every 3rd bar had a dumpy Chinese dude with a double-phone selfie stick doing social media. Which I found strange, because the last time I was here a dozen girls attacked me for trying to snap a wide-angle photo from the 2nd road. Maybe these dudes are paying for the privilege.
These days, Soi 6 is the land of the chunky and chunky. Slim gals are unicorns. Back in my day, sonny, ‘Twas the opposite. Everyone was shaped like a Sports Illustrated swimsuit model circa 1988 and fatties were an odd curiosity. No longer. Now, you’d be hard pressed to find a fit filly regardless of faith or fealty.
I found my buddy and we knocked back a few SMLs. As we chatted about the best supermarkets in my neighborhood, I was struck with a profound sense of relief. That the move went well, yes. That the new room was exactly what I wanted, sure. But more than that, I felt the complete absence of urgency. Normally, on a Ptown bender, I’d feel pressured to make the most of every second. To bang whoever I could whenever I could. To rush from redlight to redlight lest I miss something. As a permanent Ptowner, that angst was gone. It seemed a weight had been lifted from my back, and my breaths somehow caught more oxygen.
After I parted ways with my friend, I wandered the six with a renewed sense of…I don’t know what. It was as though the universe leaned down to whisper “welcome home.” My buddy actually did say that as we parted, and then i inexplicably walked from soi 6 to walking street, stopping once for some rad na. But I was still too early on arrival so I slipped up to the 2nd floor of Electric Blue aka Windmill 3, since it opens at 19.00. This was a mistake, as I was accosted by two dozen of the chunkiest chunksters from blubberville. They couldn’t understand why I wasn’t barfining. I suppose a lone punter at 7 pm shouldn’t be doing anything else, other than maybe killing time till the gogos open, which is what I was doing. After one 99b Chang draft, I drifted to Pin-Up, purely out of habit. I don’t know ow how much of a gogo rat I’ll end up being in my new hometown. The scene ain’t the same as Bangkok. You can’t get a girl’s Line in a Ptown gogo. It’s fuckdiculous. How can I expect to build a harem if I can’t message with the girls? No, I’ll have to take a different tack here.
Suddenly I was exhausted, or maybe just fed up, and decided to bail. But first I swung into XS and then another old favorite to look for my pal Mina. She wasn’t there but a hot brown skinny kept looking over, so I bought her a drink. 22 years old from Isaan. She was lovely, and I asked for her Line, already knowing her response. “If I give you, the bar will charge me 5,000.” This is something I don’t understand. I mean, if I really wanted it all I’d need to do is barfine her once. What do they think they’re accomplishing? In truth, they’re hurting their bottom line by putting off regulars. If I could get a girl’s Line from a joint, I’d have a reason to keep going in there and buying that girl drinks. As it is, I go once or twice a week to have something to blog about, buy one happy hour draft, and bail. A truly forward-thinking gogo owner would figure this out and let the locals do what the Bangkok gogos do, and permit communication between regulars and their girls.
Moving to Pattaya has not stopped me from taking one-hour walks in the morning, though the experience is not the same. For one, a get a gentle sea breeze blowing up South Pattaya Road, all the way to my building. And it’s needed, because Ptown is a might hotter than Bangkok. Part of it is, when you walk through most of BK, you’re shaded by tall buildings. It’s hard to avoid the sun after a certain time of the morning, so these days I try to get out by 7 am. For the past seven days, I walked up Walking Street to the harbor and back. There was a lot to see.
When I walked Lumphini Park in Bangkok, I was surrounded by fit young hi-so Thais all running and doing calisthenics. In Ptown, I’m one of dozens of old white dudes all trying not to die by taking morning walks. Based on a cursory observation, I’m one of the youngest in this group. But still—it’s humbling to know I’m on track to shrivel up and die in this town at some point.
Some of you might not know this, but there are bars on WS that are still open at 07.00. Some, it seems, will keep serving as long as there’s a farang willing to stay and drink, and by God if there weren’t a handful of scraggly old punters doing just that. The staff at all the clubs are just finishing up work and going home, as the recycling trucks swoop in to gather all the empties from the previous night. In one joint, I saw an angry Thai and her embarrassed Russian boyfriend arguing over last night’s bill. Some random Thais played pool nearby. An old farang sat snogging a ladyboy. Freelancers lounged on the steps of closed gogos. Some were sleeping. Dozens of ladyboys sat around like flocks of birds, catcalling every passerby. Farangs on scooters cruised the soi, I presume on the hunt for leftover gash. Taxi drivers and random Thai dudes offered cocaine and/or poontang. A fat farang in last night’s clothes tried picking up on a 7-11 girl. I know he was in last night’s clothes because I saw him several hours before. He sauntered into Pin-Up in search of a specific girl and left upon learning she hadn’t come to work.
A skinny, dreadlocked Blafrican nearly started a fistfight with a Thai staffer over the fee for his live performance the night before. What he didn’t realize, due to a lack of situational awareness, was a team of motorbike taxi drivers all watching intently, waiting to tear him to pieces if he swung on the Thai guy. Just then, a chubby Thai lady arrived, pulled the Blafrican to her car and sped away.
The harbor is beautiful in the morning, and bustling by sunup. Hordes of tourists arrive to do their day trips to Koh Larn.
After my walk I did some remote work and then another Thaifriendly gal messaged to say she was on her way over. I quickly showered and straightened the bed sheets. She was 20, from Udon, no kids, and cute enough to not kick out the door. She got prepped for sex, but I was too tired/lazy so instead she blew me with a kind of lusty intensity, like she was living her best life doing that to strangers. After she left, I fell into a deep sleep and dreamed of my old harem. When I woke up, it was 18.00. I realized I hadn’t eaten anything, so I put on a shirt and walked to soi Lengkee. It took 10 minutes. I had the rack of lamb with the house red and a caesar salad at Smokin’ Joe’s which was fantastic. 1500 all in. Three farang sat down at a nearby table. After sipping their beers for 5 minutes they all took a break to go outside and spark up a joint. This is normal life now—GenZ twats getting ripped in between dinner courses.
From there, I wandered over to Tree Town, since it was too early for the LK gogos. Halfway round the horseshoe, a Thai dude jumped out and said “Seven!” It was an old bar staffer from Virgin Patpong. He said he’d moved to Ptown to help out his friend with a new bar. I told him I’m also a new transplant from BK. He said he already likes it better. Everything’s cheaper, and he can hit the beach whenever he wants. I told him I’d come back and have a drink in his bar sometime in the future, though in truth I don’t know if I can keep that appointment. I stole glances at the gals while we were chatting and none of them stirred my loins.
Dolls LK opened first so I went there for the Monday special 90b SMLs and got stuck watching the film they had on the TV, Maleficent. Then I slid to Las Vegas to look for my friend Zai. She wasn’t there but they do bogo drinks so I got stuck in there for a good 40 mins and left the place hammered. I stopped in at Lady Love just to stare at half their gogo roster, then walked over to Heaven Above to say hi to RJ. It was his day off because of course it was. The side soi behind the bar how has a few beer bars. Pattaya is a city comprised of clunge sois plus some normal stuff sprinkled around the clunge. It’s a cornucopia of clit. A menagerie of minge. A gaggle of gash. A plethora of poon. A shitload of slit. A platoon of puss. A collection of cooch. A terrarium of twat.
The next morning I had my walk again, and stopped at Friendship Market for an oat milk latte and a BLT. Dammit, that sandwich was good. And only 90b. I could eat one a day for the rest of the month. The Ptown whores all wake up at 13.25 every day. I know because at that exact time I’m now inundated with Line messages—half a dozen minimum—from clams trying to schedule visits. After weeding through their photos, I chose the skinniest one for later that evening and then set about clearing the clutter from my room before her arrival. She was exactly what I look for in a concubine—fit as fuck body, with a face only a mother could love. I prefer these types of girls because an unattractive visage usually means she’s not sought-after by lots of random men. At least, that’s what I tell myself. In my experience, the prettier a girl is, the bigger cheater she is, plus she’s hounded every second she’s out of the house. No one wants that headache. At the same time, though, it’s easier to keep a girl when she’s pleasant to look at. Back in BK, I got really lucky with my harem. Most were pretty good-looking. The difference is, I accumulated them gradually over time. Here in Ptown, where the average fuck toy is on the rougher side, finding lookers will, I assume, be more difficult. So far, no one who’s come over has been someone I’d call harem material.
After my lady made her exit, I motaxi’d to The 6 to shop for future concs, with moderate success. I sat and chatted to five gals in different bars, trading Lines and setting up my usual setup—come over when you need money, I’m free anytime, no rush. In these situations, they either send a message within the week or down the road when they hit a financial snag. Either way, five seeds were planted. Then, in what’s becoming a habit I don’t want, I again walked all the way from Soi 6 to Walking Street. I think the lack of urgency due to living here, plus the fact that I walk all the time now so it ain’t no thing, plus a morbid interest in the freelancers makes me do it.
I slipped into the nearest gogo for a piss and instantly heard my name. It was my pal Mina. She’d switched from the gogo where she’d danced since leaving Patpong four years ago, due to some personal conflict with another dancer. Then I checked out Chick because I always forget they’re part of the Pin-Up/XS group. Around 40% of each rota were quite hot. And when I say hot, I mean their bodies. I never even gauge their faces (throwback to last week’s post). Then for shits ‘n’ giggles I hit up Sapphire for a 119b happy hour big Tiger draft. The barmaid said “Not see you longtime,” and I wanted to say it’s because I’m sick of reading palms in there, but I kept my yap shut. It’s my own fault, after all. I used that schtick to win the favor of dancers and staff back in the 2010s. Little did I know they’d never fucking forget it.The roster has improved since my last visit, though still not back to the glory days of the early 20teens. That’s when I used to barfine a lesbian couple who worked there in tandem—a superhottie and her tomboy girlfriend. They refused to fuck, but they really enjoyed giving me handjobs—especially the tom. She was fascinated by my wang. Shame the hot one wasn’t as into it. I think she just did it to make her girlfriend happy.
On Thursday I slept all day and then pulled a lateral move and blocked the girl I had scheduled, after looking more closely at her photos and deciding the juice wasnt worth what id have to squeeze. Meanwhile the dick sucker from the other day kept messaging me, even though I told her I wouldn’t be available again till next week. I get the feeling its a lean time for these Thaifriendly freelancers. Either that or they’ve already sucked the dick of every local monger, and have only noobs like me to rely on. Either way, I blocked her as well. So far ptown is a case of too much of a mediocre thing. I know there are hotties here—I’m just too stupid to suss out where they are. I hope they’re not all restricted to ws gogos. That would be a fucking tragedy. A fuckegy, copyright BKK7.
After sundown I ran the Soi 6 gauntlet again, looking for my one remaining pre-Covid fuckbuddy. I found her halfway up the soi, already talking to a weak old punter. She saw me and tried to acknowledge me on the downlow. I was having none of that. I just showed her my phone and mimed to message me when she was done. The dude looked displeased, but I could wipe the floor with him and so paid him no mind. Then I wandered further on, seeking out the clams I’d met the night before. I found two, and it was hard to work in time with them because they’re the bane of this monger’s life: pretty. Every goddam punter in the bar waited their turn. It’s not something I’m used to these days—not being top dog in the redlight. I wondered idly how long it would take to build the kind of reputation that I had in Patpong. I suppose the answer is, half a decade.
My new main interest Mint, who is hot and pretty, admitted she had 3 kiks in line ahead of me. The good news is, they’re all skint. Moving to Ptown has doubled my disposal income, so I told her I’d throw money at that cooter if she agreed to play ball. She seemed unconvinced.
The way I can tell it’s low season is by the vehicle traffic on the Beach Road. If you can get from The 6 to WS in less than 5 mins on a baht bus at 9 pm, then Ptown’s more or less a ghost town.
Down on walking street I tried to visit my pal Mina and accidentally went to the wrong gogo. The joint was rammed with chunksters and charged 120b for a Tiger draft. When I did finally get to Mina’s gogo she wasn’t there, but plenty of full-figured ladies asked to siphon off a drink. I said no to all of them. Then I decided to check out a few new bars, and by new I mean, the previous one went belly up and they reopened under a new name. Stop 1 was Atmos. Turns out they’re owned by the Pin-Up/XS group, along with Chick and Dragon. Like what Nightwish did to The 6, they’re slowly swallowing up WS. Then I slipped into Harem, which I recognized on entering as a bar I’d been in many times but couldn’t for the life of me recall the precious name. There was nothing remarkable about the place, except that the staff were sweet.
My hot take on why Peppermint closed is, it’s too far down the soi. At that south end, the Indians have taken over. Peppermint was simply too far out on the fringe.
Heres a breakdown of WS vs Bangkok’s non happy hour drink prices: draft beers 95, bottles 120, vodka soda 165, b ruskie 190. In BK that’s 180, 180, and 230 respectively.
On Friday I slept all day again. The problem is, my room doesn’t have a sofa. Just a table and chairs and a bed. And the bed has my memory foam pillows and mattress so no matter when I lay down on it, I fall asleep. I could be out cold for 8 hours, wake up, take my walk, do some work, then get back in bed and immediately go to sleep again. It seems the only time I can’t sleep is when I really need to, at 1 am after a bender.
Anyway, I finally got my ass in gear by 18.00 and walked to Tree Town to try Tacos State. As I passed a bar on Buakhao, someone shouted my name. It was Jersey Dan. We chatted for a bit before I pushed on to get my Mex on. I ordered 2 beef tacos and veggie nachos plus a margarita. Stay tuned for a trifecta of taco reviews in a future Substack.
Lao Tzu told the story of a farmer whose bull broke out of its paddock, and the farmer chased it all day but couldn’t catch it. Finally, out of exhaustion, he sat down under a tree and took a nap. When he woke up, his bull was standing next to him. Now, I know this has some great Taoist philosophical meaning, but in Thailand, it’s quite literal. I’m learning if you sit in a bar long enough, your past friends and kiks will all eventually walk by.
This has happened to me regularly in Ptown. I’ll be walking down a soi and someone will shout my name. That someone could be anyone from an Ao Nang slag from the 2010s to Phuket gash to Samui slash to previous Ptown fanny, and coworkers and drinking buddies from everywhere in between. One person whom I’m cosmically connected to like a tow line is Jersey Dan. No matter where he skips around to in what bar, I always inevitably walk past and he always spots me. Its kismet, and it happened again on Friday. After the tacos I swung back round to have a drink with him, and wasn’t there 30 seconds before a past Soi 6 conquest from 2020 strolled in. This time it was me shouting her name. It took her a minute to place me, and then it was like no time had passed. We re-exchanged Lines and she promised to come to my room in the next week. She’s another butterface, or what I’ve alluded to in this post as fugly. But that’s too harsh. She’s cute enough, but of all the bodies in Pattaya, hers is easily in the top 5. She works out religiously. She’s got a pair of giant fake tits. And she has an amiable disposition. It’s enough to make one overlook her average face. I paid for her drink, said I’d message her soon, gave Dan a fist bump and then tried Las Vegas again to see of Zai was there.
Inexplicably I’ve taken up rolling cherry cigarettes again. This has proved problematic post-decriminalization and recriminalization of ganja. Everyone thinks I’m sparking up a joint. I had bogo b ruskies and a cherry rolly in Vegas with no sign of Zai, then slipped into Showgirls for no particular reason. They’ve revamped their seats. Goodtime gals and 95b vodka sodas. Then I caught up with RJ in Heaven Above. Goddam, talking to that guy is like a breath of fresh air. He’s got his finger on the pulse, not just in Ptown but BKK as well.
Ptown on a Thursday is nothing like ptown on a Saturday. Everyone comes down and goes out on the weekend. I tried out Soi 6 and failed. It was just too crowded. Then I walked to Sois 7 and 8 just to check that they still suck, and they do. Then I baht-bussed to WS, mainly to find some aircon as it was sweltering. I spotted several decent looking freelancers on the beach road, plus some scary Blafrican ladies, plus tourists and Thais galore. Compared to the previous five days, it was madness.
Click had a dozen hotties. Pun-up same. Two farang walked in and asked to see a menu before deciding whether to sit down. 95b was too rich for their blood and they left. Three nipons sat down and then bailed 30 seconds later after seeing only around 10 gals in a roster of 90. That’s a rookie mistake. In Baccara Pattaya, the girls actually pay attention to farang. Geisha I think used to be Living Dolls. 220 vodka sodas, 105 Tiger draft. 170 SML.
I’ve avoided Coco for years, I think because of the aggressiveness of the hosts at the door. This was a mistake. Yes the drink prices are high, but the joint is full of horny gash looking to shorttime, plus a handful of Russian clunge thrown in just for fun. Plus they have shows, and the DJ played fucking New Order. That’s class.
And that’s where my first week in town came to an end. All in all, I’d call it productive. More than anything, I’m learning what not to do on a night out. I’m too old for The 6 after 8 pm, and the gogos, while rife with eye candy, are a waste of time. As for amassing a harem, I’ve got to give myself permission to be patient. To take a nap under a tree and wait for the cows to come to me.
There’s no Members Only Gallery this week, because as I posted previously, Stripe—the paywall gateway—has closed my account, calling my content “sexual.” So I can’t in good conscience add any new Members, and current Members have lost access as of the 29th. You have an Aussie named Greg Hawk to thank, because when he signed up and then decided he didn’t want to be a Member anymore, instead of canceling his membership he disputed the charge with his bank, causing a chain reaction that led to my account getting shut down. Greg Hawk, the cunt piece of shit, has done this to all of us, Members. I’m working on finding a new paywall gateway, so hopefully the MO content will continue, though those who already purchased a Membership will lose that $12. Thank Greg Hawk the retard for that kick in the balls.
And that’s all the monger that’s fit to ponder for now, friends. Sorry for all the typos. I didn’t proofread. Check back next Sunday for another summary of this redlight life. In the meantime, you can read more Bangkok-centric stuff on my Substack: https://bangkokseven.substack.com/
Slideshows from previous blogs and the redlight scene going back several years can be found at https://www.youtube.com/c/BangkokSeven
My buddy Jack and I host a growing Facebook community with lots of nightlife-related content at: https://www.facebook.com/groups/thaiagogo
and I’ve got a small but robust group of pervs posting photos daily at a group called Super Hot Asians here: https://www.facebook.com/groups/374120690195407
Follow me on Twitter/X @BangkokSeven for daily monger material, along with these other profiles that’re chock full of photos of hotties:
@superhotthais
@BangkokNightli2
If you’re feeling generous, you can leave a tip on any of the above X profiles. All proceeds will go to creating more redlight content.
I’ve started to sell my artwork in digital download bundles, so if you fancy some gogo dancer-related pictures, mostly nude Thai chicks photoshopped as paintings, you can get ‘em on the cheap at my Etsy shop: https://www.etsy.com/shop/ThailandNights
Right now I have several bundles of four to five pictures each for under $10 US apiece.
And until next time fellow BK Bukowskis and Bathshebas, keep your balls (or tits) warm, your beer cold, and cheers to another week above ground in the greatest country on Earth: Thailand.
Pro Tip Post-Script: Locals already know this, but if you’re staying anywhere near South Pattaya Road, your go-to supermarket must be Friendship. That place kicks ass.
