What’s up mingemongers and moneyhoneys, my name’s Seven and here are the notes I found in my phone at the end of the week…
I’m experiencing a crisis, friends. Part of my “don’t die” routine is to take a one-hour walk every morning. It’s incredibly helpful for my overall health, and I highly recommend the practice to everyone. Unfortunately, the bed in my Pattaya apartment is so fucking comfortable that when the alarm goes off at 7 am, I am often unable to drag my carcass off the memory-foam mattress and pillow because laying on them is pure unadulterated pleasure. So half the time, I’m not up early enough to walk. It throws my whole day out of whack, and that’s a perfect description for this current cycle of sleep-drink-fuck we mongers call “living the dream.”
On Monday I slept in, so had to do my beach walk at noon. It turns out that even on a cloudy day in November it’s considerably hotter than the morning. For shits n giggles I stopped at the lounge chairs managed by a hot little Thai piece and had her make me a lime shake. The beach was only sparsely traversed by a handful of tourists. Three Indian dudes in matching orange shirts took turns photographing each other walking up and down the sand. The sea was calm as a lake. I counted only four parasailers which must be crushing for the industry. The Bangkok Post reported last week that tourism is down 7% from January and although it’s bad for the local Thais, I for one couldn’t be happier.
On Tuesday I popped out to see how the redlights are doing, starting at Soi 6. As I wandered past one bar, a particularly fetching lass caught my eye, so I grabbed her and pulled her in for a drink. As proof that my taste is consistent it turned out I already chose her like a month ago and forgot. She said, “I leemembah you” and I fished through my Lines and found her. And she was a smoke show. The downside of that on The 6 is, it means she gets railed nine ways to Sunday every day. But I might be able to turn her into a BJ conc. Time will tell.
I also visited galpal Aunwar who wonders why I’ve only bedded her once. I can’t tell her it’s because she’s become emotionally attached, which is never good for someone of my debauched disposition. I bailed after one drink and she nearly wept. Then I was stopped by J, who knows I won’t fuck her, and that kind of liberty is a relief with bar girls. It frees one up to flirt, knowing she won’t get the wrong idea. And it’s important to be cheeky with the girls you don’t fuck, if only for the view and subsequent envy of the other girls in the bar.
After that I bussed to WS and straight to Pin-up for their 95b happy hour drinks. The girl I doted on in there for months has disappeared. It’s moments like that where a monger needs to be able to get Lines. The girl don’t work there no more, and I have no way of reaching her. It’s downright criminal, I tell you what. Overall, the night was quite subdued in Ptown, except in the redlights. Concentrated crowds, you might say clusters of fucks, clogged up The 6 and certain areas of WS.
Atmos was more packed than I’ve ever seen it. I barely squeezed into a seat. All the dudes seemed to know each other so maybe it was some kind of locals party. They must’ve been low on liquor because the vodka-soda they served me was 99.9% soda. But they can do no wrong in my eyes because the dancers are hot and the staff are incredible. Jisoo had a lineup. No one I’d take home in rota 1 but good for an ogling at least. Rotas 2 and 3 were rife with prime clunge. Enough to wake up this old monger’s boner, which is a colossal feat these days. Then I bounced back and hit a gogo that I love, so I’m not going to say the name, but I sat down and was there for a good three minutes and nobody took my order. It’s never happened before, and I noticed their usual manager wasn’t there. It says a lot about leadership. Eventually I just got up and bailed.
Sometimes a man can run the soi 6 gauntlet and not see anyone worth stopping for. Other times there’s a hot piece ever 20 meters. On Thursday it was the former. Two galpals were engaged with customers and I’d almost reached the beach when I spotted two lovely sex machines who are BFFs and work as a team in their bar, ganging up on dudes to drain their pockets and stiffen their pricks. I allow them to rinse me in the hope of a future threesome.
I saw a lot of white women fighting with their farang boyfriends on the night, which always warms my heart. When foreign clams are co fronted with a patriarchy that they can’t eliminate, they become inconsolable. Their rage is like a treacle for my poisoned heart. Poisoned by their serpentine hearts. Hearts i tried to love for 30 years before giving up and moving across the ocean, where I found a new kind of woman. A kind kind of woman. Subservient, pussy-generous women. Sex vixens who used their pelvic power to heal rather than destroy. To build a man up instead of castrating his soul. In short: Thailand, bitches. Thailand.
The 3rd string was onstage at 20.01 in Pin-Up while the hot ones trickled in late. Call it “pretty privilege.” Actually it’s simple economics. The prettiest can pay the late fee—and there is a charge for coming late—because they’ll get it back in ladydrinks on the night. It’s those less appealing gals that gotta clock in on time. It’s science. Call me the David Attenborough of the redlight. Species: hussie. Phylum: gogo dancer. Habitat: the pole. Scientific name: vaginious dancus promiscuous.
I managed to hit 4 of 5 Pin-Up cartel gogos before 21.00, meaning I got in 4 happy hour 95b cocktails. It’s called a superfecta, in case you wanted to know. One more than a trifecta. Then I slipped into Sapphire, my old favorite WS gogo, to peruse the clunge. It felt like a 100% turnover of dancers since the last time I was in there. The lineup is nowhere near the 20teens level of hotness, but then no place is.
You know you have too much sex when you don’t have a girl over for three days because you’re too lazy to clean your apartment. And im not saying I clean every time a comc comes over. But when your place is so gross…like bad bachelor gross…and you can’t be fucked to take 20 minutes and wipe the grime off stuff…you have to much sex. When you can turn away gash because you don’t feel like dusting. Goddam.
Friday started out cool and cloudy, so this old codger slept in. Then at noon, just as thing started to heat up, I got the bright idea to walk to Cigarista for a couple Cubans. Then, soaked in sweat, I swung through Central for some radna and an ice cream from cold stone. Their menu is more than eclectic. I settled on chocolate with peanut butter, peanut butter cups, and butterscotch. Very decadent. I actually felt guilty for eating it. As a child in a Baptist family with a dirt-poor public school teacher father and stay at home mom, I was taught both at church and home that indulgence is unseemly. That having too many good things is a sign you’re in league with the Devil. That if God chose to bestow one or two blessings on you in a lifetime, you were one fortunate son of a bitch, and if the good Lord struck you down with cancer or Alzheimer’s, it was recompense for having too many good things in life. Needless to say, Thailand threw me for a loop. You mean I can have 6 hot 20-year-old girlfriends and no consequences? For a decade I woke up every morning expecting a brain tumor.
There was considerable construction on the second road. Not the road itself—several new Indian restaurants were going in. That’s just what this town needs. I think the official tally now is 600,000 Indian restaurants between Terminal 21 and South Pattaya Road.
Later on, I had a conc over for a BJ and apartment cleaning, then downloaded the first two episodes of Vince Gillgan’s new series, Pluribus. When I saw the mad genius behind Breaking Bad and Better Call Saul had a new TV show, I was super stoked. And then I watched it. It’s basically an idea stolen from “Rick and Morty.” Talk about a let-down. I don’t know how Gilligan didn’t see the cartoon, or realize that it ruined his whole show before they even started filming, but feckin’ hell. The world just keeps getting stupider. I was so disappointed that I had to hit the redlight to cheer myself up.
Somehow I ended up back on the 6 for a second night in a row. Well, not “somehow.” I want to reel in a 19-year-old and she needs a bit more convincing. Plus, I’m missed greasing the wheels of a couple regular galpals the night before. And, I wanted to smoke a stogie at Toscana. It was Sino-Nipon hell night. I stopped in to play with Anwar’s naughty bits. She’s especially fun because of how quickly she becomes aroused. Early in life, I made it a priority to know the different types of vaginas in the world…or at least, the ones within my sphere of experimentation. Since I was unattractive, learning the ins and outs of the female anatomy became paramount. It’s more than just innies, outies, wide, narrow, deep, shallow, sensitive, and clod-like. Many gals, especially in Thailand, don’t even know how their own plumbing works. They have to be taught. Thanks to being ugly in my 20s, today there’s no gash that gets in my bed and doesn’t have a good time. Turning out LA skanks in the 90s has paid off all these years later.
I paired a Partagas with a claret and tawny port at Toscana. The stick lasted so long i required a second glass of port. By the time I stumbled out of there I was flying. It seemed a waste to not eat any of their fantastic food but at that point I don’t think I could’ve kept it down.
I’d planned to hit LK but ended up staying on the baht bus till Walking Street. Both the Beach Road and WS were an absolute clusterfuck of humanity.
I didn’t want to visit the same gogos as the night before, so I bounced around, starting at Jisoo. A white boy with face and neck tattoos tried to wingman me but I pretended he didn’t exist and he gave up. I did repeat one gogo and that was Atmos. The scene was insane. There was so much hott clunge, my brain had to reboot. Everyone was ripped—the girls, the customers, and the hosts. That was a life-or-death party if I ever saw one. A life-or-death party is one where every person is raging like there might not be a tomorrow. Then I stepped into Coco, where the bitches are randy and loose. The vibe in there is so perverse, one gets the impression one might be able to nail a chick in the bogs. I’m sure it’s not true, but that’s the vibe. It’s very pornographic in there. I had a 240b b ruskie and called it a night.
In other news, after nine weeks of living in Ptown, I’ve yet to solidify a harem. The three concs that’re in rotation now are OK, but they don’t inspire the kind of lascivious joy conjured by my Bangkok harem for over a decade. Maybe I’m just being impatient. These things take time, and I know that I’m the most inept that ever stepped, to quote Steven Morrissey. I think it’s a two-fold problem. First, it’s hard to find exceptionally hot girls in Ptown. There are lots of sexy girls, and solid 8s, but not a lot of 9s and 10s. Second, anyone who is half-decent looking is getting run through by packs of sex tourists on the regular. Finding a superhottie whose vagine isn’t used like a trampoline every day is really, really difficult. But I’m determined to keep trying. Plus now that I’m going back to BK on occasion to service my old roster, procuring Ptown puss is less of a priority.
There’s no Members Only Gallery this week, but I think I did manage to swap out a new paywall, so for anyone who wants a gander at 10 years of redlight photos and videos, it’s a $16 one-time payment for lifetime access. Click on the “Members Only Content” link at the top of the homepage.
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 beach 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.
What Grinds My Gears This Week: Periodically I’m going to replace the Pro Tip Post Script with a winge. Here’s one: It’s another Thai motorbike retard complaint. The other day I ordered Grab food, and by some miracle it showed up 20 minutes early, with no warning from Grab. The driver called me six times in a row, then sent this message: “The food is here. Where is the customer?” Well, I’ll tell you where, fuckface. He’s busy putting on flip flops because the food came unexpectedly early, and as you’re calling him over and over, he’s trying to text you a message that says “Wait 2 minutes.” Ya cunt.
