What’s up mingemongers and moneyhoneys, my name’s Seven and this is what I found in my phone’s notepad at the end of the week…
When I first moved to Bangkok from the breezy, easy-bedding babe-factory of Phuket, I’d already been to Nana and Cowboy several times. Patpong was a brand-new experience for a brand-new Bangkokian, and it made an indelible impression. For one thing, the girls as a redlight population seemed better-looking than their Nana and Cowboy counterparts. Second, they were sweeter, more accommodating, more willing to jump into bed, and better at it once they got there. I was ridiculously lucky in that I amassed a harem of 8s and 9s quite quickly and effortlessly, and as the years passed and one would leave, another just as hot or hotter would somehow take her place. It was a magical time of wanton debauchery with some of the most beautiful women I’d ever laid hands on.
Things didn’t go as well when I made the recent move to Pattaya. I arrived on 30 August, and found that procuring women of the same aesthetic caliber proved daunting. Locating and wooing 9s willing to have a go at Seven seemed beyond my grasp. Through the rest of 2025, I struggled to put together a respectable harem, and ultimately failed, heading to Cali for Christmas with little more than a couple of BJ part-timers and no source of pride in their attachment. Even worse, on my return I found that the two hotties I’d been working on had found other suitors in my absence, setting me back even further in my endeavor to pound princesses. But two weeks ago, the wind shifted in my direction. I accidentally found a sex goddess whom I’d foolishly shunned for weeks whose coital prowess is on par with mine. Since then I’d been subsisting on sucking her sensuality from her like a greedy incubus without even trying to shore up a working harem. Then yet again, out of the blue, I randomly ran into a ravenously gorgeous lass, formerly of a Soi 6 bar where I met her, who had since quit and disappeared. She remembered me, and I pulled her into a bar, paying for her drinks and generally passing the time making her laugh for an hour or two. Then when we parted ways I sent her a Line message: “If you come to me every week, I will always take care of you.” It’s more sentimental than my usual shtick, but somehow it worked. She messaged two days later to say she was coming over. Her acquiescence had a two-fold effect on my psyche. First, it reaffirmed my pimp status in my own estimation. Second, it filled the void in my soul that, from age 15, has only been filled by the presence of a smoking-hot naked babe in my bed.
On arrival, though, she showed no signs of an intent to have sex. She lay next to me on the bed and played with her phone. Suddenly, she noticed my set of novelty Samurai swords and grabbed one. Now, this girl had stiff-armed me for months, and her turnaround was nothing short of remarkable. So when she pulled out the blade, I actually had a momentary fear that she was there to kill me. But then she put down the sword and went for a shower, emerging from the bathroom a few minutes later totally naked.
She was as spectacular as I’d imagined she would be. The curves of her pelvis made me dizzy. I scrutinized the bones under her lovely flesh in a way that would’ve made Jack the Ripper proud. Her vagine was my favorite kind—delicate, I daresay demure, with zero extra bologna, and pubic hair like a teenager despite being the mother of a 3-year-old. Her only flaw was a set of post-birth stretch marks at her hips. It wasn’t enough to deter me from realizing every fantasy I’d conjured of her since the first day I saw her on The 6 back in September. Sometimes being forced to wait makes the getting that much sweeter.
That said, by midweek I was getting multiple messages per day from all three of my concs, and giving them all the cold shoulder. I swear to Buddha, a Thai monger’s mongering life is either feast or famine. It’s either chagrin at not having enough poontang at the ready, or exasperation at having too many harlots asking to come over. If you live in the West, this probably sounds like the wingeing of a madman, but all problems are relative. In Thailand, these are the kinds of problems we redlight rats encounter. It doesn’t compare to First World problems, but—actually there’s no “but.” Life is so good here that even the problems are awesome.
Sunday was election day, so bars were shut and no booze served until 18.00. By an unlucky coincidence, my building cut the power from 13.00 to 17.00 so I had to wander Ptown like a sober vagabond for hours. After two fruit shakes at separate venues, I plopped down on a beach lounger. The dude said, “You want drink something? Water? Beer?” I said, “But it’s not 6 pm.” He said mai pben rai. So I got a big Singha served in a Hello Kitty cup and let my old bones sink toward the sand without a care in the world. My brother chose to lay low and rest, having banged a chick 14 of the last 20 days.
One night after not eating all day I met up with my sib post-chunkerfuck and was so famished I let him pick where we ate. He chose Burger King. You can take the beast out of America but you can’t take the America out of the beast. The kind of clientele one rubs elbows with in a Ptown Burger King is…..low. Two scruffy frogs entered, throwing open the door so that it stuck. My bro and I stared, wondering whether they’d close it. They didn’t. The younger one babbled away in frog while his older companion kept stealing looks at my 330 pound brother as he munched on his Whopper. He muttered something about Americans and his friend concurred. I momentarily considered choking the older one unconscious. Then we walked back via Soi 7, and lo and behold a fatty from my sib’s past was working at one of the beer bars, along with a crew of the least-pretty Thai gals I’d ever laid eyes on. He insisted we stop for a beer and I was subjected to the awkward advances of a nondescript lady in her 30s who I guess was required to sit with me, because even after I hundytipped her, she stuck around even though I didn’t buy her a drink or say more than two words to her.
My sib has yet to fully master the art of whoremongering. He messaged me midweek and said, “This girl on Soi 6 wants me to come barfine her so let’s head over around 6.” So we went and got ribs needed shrimp at the market nearby, then moseyed over to the gal’s bar. He couldn’t locate her among the herd of bovine all beckoning us inside. I said, “You didntt tell her you were coming?” No. “Send her a message now, tell her you’re here.” No response. We walked down to see one of my futureconcs. A minute later his chick messaged, “Where” are you? We downed our drinks and went back, she wasn’t there. “She upstair” says one chunker. We stood there like assholes waiting for her. Finally she came down. The sib didn’t recognize her. “That’s not her.” Fucking yes it is, goddammit, I remember her lip piercing. You can’t fucking pull that detail from your memory? Fucking hell. Then she sat down and he asked how much for shorttime. She said 2,500 for her plus 1,000 for the bar. He was astonished. I couldn’t figure out what his problem was. What did he think it would cost? “My girl on Soi Pothole is only 1,500.” Yesssss, because she’s on Soi Pothole. This is The 6. It’s like everything I’ve taught him in 5 years of coming here went right out the window.
So we leave, and he shows me a pic of a different girl. I said, “That’s the one from the other bar. Not this bar.” Turns out it was directly across the soi from the first bar. I arranged a shorttime with his cute but rotund new friend. Then I got a Bolt taxi for them and then once they bailed, stopped in to have a drink with my friend J, whom I’ll never fuck again but who is always good for a laugh and an ass squeeze. After that I high-tailed it to Walking Street and straight to Click. I saw Mamasan Club had reopened. That’s a bar I’ll never go into, as well as the soon-to-open Abyss. I predict it will disappear into an abyss as fast as it opened. Chick has 4 smoke shows in each rotation—a high ratio for WS gogos at the mo.
When I popped out of chick, I realized there was still 6 minutes left for happy hour drinks in the Pin-up cartel’s bars, so I slipped into XS—a gogo I typically avoid because it’s always overcrowded. And the vision of hot clunge I was presented with nearly sent me into a fit. I’m actually surprised dudes aren’t constantly cumming in their trousers in that joint.
Pin-Up had so many new hot pieces of ass that the mamasan had to run round telling them where to stand onstsge. Now that’s what I call new, mofos. Shark had 150 gals and 1 in 10 were fuckable. No 9s or 10s but there were some randy minxes in the mix. Amidst a clientele of 200, I was one of only three farang in the joint. I guess it’s obvious who they’re marketing to.
I’ve reached the point on Soi 6 where the staff in 9 of 10 bars know me, know who I buy drinks for in their bar, and/or recognize my face from countless trips through the gauntlet.
Drink prices are inching up in every bar on The 6. I paid 135 baht for a vodka soda in one bar, and 110 for the same drink in the bar next door. On Thursday my sib ran out of money so I walked over to View Talay to give him some more. As I walked home, I scooted up Buakhao at 10 am, shocked to see so many farang clams. Old ones, young ones, twosomes, solo tourists. 2026 seems to be the year of the loner white clam glow-up Thai holiday.
At the outdoor food market one evening, a stunning Asian blonde (not Thai) wandered around, bought some shrimp, ate it alone, then strolled toward soi 6 all by herself. On my street, a gang of crusty old women all wearing Pattaya Praise t-shirts clogged up the sidewalk. Funny, the only person who helped the little homeless Thai lady begging for food was me. It called forth a memory from when I lived in Phuket. I was at the Green Dragon live music bar on Bangla Road nursing a Leo. There was a group of young American farang clams in there, drinking and dancing to the music. Then suddenly, one of them jumped onstsage, took the mic from the singer, and shouted “We want you ladies working here to know that God loves you, and you don’t need to sell your bodies to these disgusting men. You can be free, wooo!” and then went back to dancing. The singer, stunned, hesitated for a moment and then said, “What da fuck you takkin about?” because the female staff at the bar did not go with customers. They were just barmaids. The retarded white clam thought she was saving the poor enslaved Asians like Tom Cruise in The Last Samurai, while gleefully ignoring the immortal souls of every dude in there, and hadn’t taken the time to learn which bars barfine and which don’t. I swear the world would be a better place if white women weren’t allowed to vote, drive, or speak in public.
Everywhere we go, the girls all yell at my brother, because he’s a freak of nature. Most Thais have never seen anyone so big. They shouted “hallooooowalcammmmme” and “wandink, wandink.” My brother speaks no Thai and doesn’t realize they’re saying “welcome” and “one drink.” To him it’s just R2D2 noises, so he responds in kind with things like “wowowowoah,” and “ding ding ding!” It’s hilarious and slightly embarrassing.
On Saturday my Ptown number 2 came by for a quickie. She mentioned he had to get back to her bar because a customer had proposed to one of the whores she works with and they were going to have a party. Imagine marrying one of the town bicycles. I’m happy he found someone, but jeez. And don’t get me wrong—I don’t devalue a bar girl for fucking lots of dudes. Id’ve easily married three harlots from my deviant past. But there’s something extra wrong about marrying a girl right off The 6. I mean, who’s walking her down the aisle? A giant pile of chlamydia?
My sib learned a few valuable lessons on this trip. In Lady Love a girl didn’t like being objectified despite being a pole dancing whore. When he leaned over to look at her ass, she got shy and offended. In Queen Club the barfine was double the price of his Soi Pothole girl. He couldn’t wrap his head round that.
We wandered into Crystal where the stage barely held up a herd of…what’s the plural of moose? I guess moose. My sib was in hog heaven. The screens at Crystal all show photos of the bar’s heyday. Every chick is slender and attractive. Contrast that with today’s roster, which looks like something out of a Star Wars cantina.
There’s a new gogo on the east-west soi of LK called Privacy. It’s not terrible, but anytime I hit up a gogo on that street I’m reminded of a long-gone bar called Touch, where the hottest girl I’ve ever seen in Pattaya worked. I first saw her on their Facebook page, and went out of my way to find her. I went to see her on every Ptown visit, and was making headway, or so I thought. Then one day I sauntered in to find her sitting in the owner’s lap. She didn’t even look my way. Soon after, they got hitched and the bar went under, and I never saw her again. But that’s the double-edged sword of Thailand. All the hottest ones will eventually find a man to marry. So many of my old harem have gone down that road. A monger has to hold on with a loose grip, because she will eventually go her own way.
For any old Members who miss my photo albums, or for anyone wanting an eyeful of redlight content, it’s been brought to my attention that the link to Members Only Content on my homepage is broken. Bear with me while I try to fix it, though fair warning—I’m internet retarded, so it might take a while.
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/ and I promise to post new stuff over there soon.
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.
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.
Pro Tip Post-Script: This week, I’ve got a winge. What’s grinding my gears at the moment is, Bolt now charges double in heavy traffic times. If you go from Friendship Market to Central between 7 and 4 pm it’s 23b. At 7 pm its 42b. What an utter crock of shit.
