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.
First up, a summary of the things I witnessed on my morning walks: A fat middle-aged Thai woman with her shirt pulled up so her gut could breathe asked me for a handout. When I gave her 20 baht, she scowled and said, “Only 20 baht?” I wanted to snatch it back from her pudgy, ungrateful hand. It’s very rare to get that kind of cheek from a Thai.
The newest deadly danger in Ptown are Farang on motorbikes. Technically it’s illegal to drive in Thailand without either a Thai license or international license, and I guarantee 99.9% of these fuckers don’t have one. You have to be extra wary in high season because these brainless twats will kill you.
I passed by a 70-something shirtless farang eating eggs in a beachside restaurant. Why do some assholes think it’s OK to take their top off anywhere they please in Thailand? And where are the Punch Police when you need them (throwback to previous posts)?
For some reason, a plethora of young solo Russian girls were walking the Beach Road at 9 am. My theory is, they’re here on holiday with their parents and mornings are their only chance to head out on their own, check out the town, smoke a fag, and possibly get into trouble.
On Tuesday I spotted some old Chinese tourists taking photos with freelancers—specifically the blafrican with fake booty who’s always in the same spot, just up from Bricks & Barrels. On Wednesday the Beach Road was choked with large roaming crowds of Indian men. They weren’t going anywhere in particular, or buying anything. They just stood around looking at the beach, the business, people passing by. In the US we’d call that a “public nuisance.” Several freelancers said “hello” to me as I passed. I guess that means I’m now a morning fixture like them.
The stench of ganja is always in the air on the Beach Road. In the mornings, it’s from GenZ farang dudes. There are two types: the skinny bearded hipsters in black hoodies and black skinny jeans with the ass that sags like they took a dump in their pants, and the yoked bearded tatt-monsters in black vests, shorts, socks, and shoes. They’re both equally stupid-looking and out of place in Pattaya.
The earlier the walk, the more Thai ladies are out jogging. Most are on the chunky side, so it’s good to see they’re trying to do something abut it. Eventually, though, the morning gets too hot and the Thais disappear. Speaking of, the week’s weather was on and off, with a day of heat and smog followed by a day of cool wind, and so on. The days when the sky is clear and the islands are clearly visible are a bit more magical. One could almost see the potential for a tropical paradise-like feel for Chonburi, and not just a haven for sex and sin.
Sunday was another glorious day in Ptown with partly cloudy skies and a cool offshore breeze. I got in a late walk, setting out at half 10. High season means five times as many shirtless farang getting sunburns while jogging or walking along the beach. I myself started to feel a bit singed at minute 40 and so stopped at a lounge chair for a kiwi shake and shady spell. A nearby Indian couple and their loud toddler threatened to ruin my bliss. When they got up to leave, the child grabbed two handfuls of sand. I watched closely as he passed, ready to evade him should he attempt anything criminal. He departed without incident, sand in hand. Unlike the previous week, I was alone in my section of chairs. There were no stupid Americans making inane comments, or Chinese moms playing YouTube videos for their kids. The day was as close to perfect as this monger can get in Ptown…no people, a fruit shake, my Mp3 player, and the sea. Then a greasy-looking dude from west Asia sat down upwind of me and ordered a coconut. He smelled like he dunked his body in a bath tub of cologne. I choked on the fumes. Two minutes later I could endure no more and was forced to flee.
That afternoon I farted around the house, watched movies on my laptop, and then typed this post into Microsoft Word before realizing I’d forgotten to eat and had nada in the kitchen. So off I fucked to the food market next to Trattoria for more keto-friendly fare—namely ribs and BBQ shrimp.
I had the Bolt driver drop me near the ATM at the top of Soi 6, then walked the gauntlet once before eating. I saw exactly zero of my large contingent of clunge (clungetingent for short). As I rounded the corner on the Beach Road, I passed a nerdy bald dude with glasses and an old-timey camera around his neck like it was Tokyo circa 1980. He gave me a look like he knew me, but I’m positive I never saw that dork in my life. I kept walking on to the shrimp ‘n’ ribs. I got a Federbrau, found a table, and dug in to the grub. Five minutes later, the dork with the camera walked by, turned, and gave me a smirk. That means this weirdo turned around and followed me to the food market. The only thing I can think is, he recognized me as Seven. I’ve tried to remain incognito all these years but along the way my photo got posted a few times. I guess the dude was a fan. Aw shit, now I feel bad for calling him a nerd. “Crazy stalker” is more accurate.
After dinner I doubled back toTthe 6, just missing May as she led a horny shorttimer upstairs. A few doors down I found a tiny sixpack by the name of Wan. We had a drink and she did her best to latch on. But this old lion likes to chase. I want a reluctant gal. An unsure minge. I like when she has to go against her better nature, only to find my wang and money to be the two things she’s been missing all her life.
I finally found Anwar free, after a week straight of catching her with a customer at every visit. I guess other people figured out how hot she is. In fact, a minute after sitting down, one of her regulars rocked up. He sat at the table next to us and just…waited. Anwar felt awkward. I felt nothing, though I did mentally cross her off the roster. I don’t need that kind of headache.
As I made my way back down the soi, I passed a little brown who’s been asking me to stop for drink for….maybe the last three weeks, so I finally went in a got her one. Ice, 20 years old from Isaan. She was a handful. Her flirting method hadn’t matured from grade school level so every other moment she put up her hand like she was going to give me a smack. Despite having a cute face and tight little body, I didn’t get her Line. I don’t need attitude in my life. I need amiable BJs.
Before I could finish my vodka, five punjabs came in. All the girls fled to the back of the bar save one brave fatty. I knew I had to get out of there. I bailed on Ice and happened by Pang’s bar just as she stepped to the front. She wore a string bikini so I sidled up behind her and stuck a finger in her ass. She pulled me into the bar and as we walked to a table, I gently smacked her tight brown ass. Two nipons shouted in approval. Then the mamasan called the other girls to Line up for the Japs, as they do here, and both kept stealing looks at Pang, as if the boss would grab her by the hair and drag her from me to give to them. Goddam cunts need to learn the hierarchy in TLOS. Nipons think they’re at the top, but they’re not.
I was astonished at how drunk I was after leaving Pang. But I wasn’t ready to quit yet. I decided to check out the gogo scene on Walking Street. Traffic on the Beach Road was fucked yet again by the goddam Jazz Festival. It took 20 minutes to get to WS. The songthaew stopped at Central and two Eurocunts got on with two toddlers in prams. The dad demanded I help lift one onto the truck. Then he almost died twice because he didn’t know how to stand on the back without falling. He actually fell off once and nearly broke his skull open, much to the delight of his wife and kids who laughed hysterically. The other dudes on the bus urged him to sit down but he refused. They held onto his babies’ strollers so at least the kids didn’t die, but we all collectively waited to see who would survive the trip. Then a farang got on with a blafrican hooker, and that rounded out things on the baht bus I never had on my bingo card.
Chick’s two stages were stuffed with clunge. The ridiculously hot were mixed in with the plain ridiculous. Once the tits came out, though, that was all I could see. One lovely piece smiled, remembering I’d tipped her in the past just for being fuckable. At the booth next to mine, an old farang was playing rock paper scissors for 20b bills with a trio of girls. I’m not one to disparage another man’s game, even if it is gay. And I don’t mean to demean the gays, it’s just the nomenclature from my generation. Something that is lame or stupid is “gay.” And I’m not insulting you if you’re gay. But you have to admit, it’s impractical and counterproductive to be such a weird, outlying anomaly in the world. I know you can’t help it, but still…it’s fair to call it gay.
After happy hour ended I plopped down in Shark, where the daily special was….wait for it…vodka. so I got a vodka soda for 105b. The mamasans tried relentlessly to get a girl over for me but I kept insisting I was too lazy for small-talk. I did hundytip one very hot lass with fake tits and tattoos all over. She was very appreciative.
On Wednesday I did some Christmas shopping for the family back in Cali, and my one remaining Ptown conc came over for a BJ. The harem situation is still dire at the moment, but I’m hoping to pull in a couple more in coming months. It’ll have to wait till after my goddam holiday in the US. Fuck, I hate going back there.
I have a new Thailand problem. For the uninitiated, that’s a thing that’s a problem in Thailand, but compared to western problems. So here it is: I’m now a common enough sight on soi 6 and Buakhao that if I don’t show up for a couple of days, my familiars say things like, “Where were you yesterday?” and “Who were you with?” and “Why didn’t you come see me?” Followed by “Not believe you” regardless of the answers. So now I feel obligated to visit these chicks every few days, even if I don’t want to, to drink with them and play with their naughty bits. And yes, I know I can tell them to fuck off. But where’s the fun in that? And so it’s a Thailand problem. It’s also why I schlepped out to Buakhao to visit with Fah and Nan on Monday. I want the bait to remain on the hook for both of those hot-ass chicks. They’re my ideal kind of Thai woman—bar girls that don’t go with customers. Nothing gives me satisfaction like bedding the ones that refuse to shorttime. Nothing makes me feel complete like turning one of them into a raging Seven’s-boner addict.
Traffic was a nightmare, as was the foot traffic of stupid, aimless, brainless, reckless, dickless tourists that clogged every step of the way like clumps of shit in a backed-up colon. Fah spotted me from 10 meters off and leapt in front of me, as if I wasn’t going to stop at her bar. She’s taken up the habit of massaging my shoulders while I sip liquor. I compensate by bringing her candies and lollipops from 7-11. Our conversations are always interesting, and she always looks deep into my eyes when we’re together. It’s only a matter of time before she’s tied to my bedpost.
Nan is possibly the best-looking gal in Ptown. She’s 20, no kids, with big natural tits, tiny waist, and a big bright smile. And she refuses to barfine. I can’t fathom how many dudes have left her bar disappointed. She can’t give out her line, but one of the Thai dudes that works there is an old acquaintance of mine from Patpong. My plan is to get him to get her Line for me. After that, the game’s on. Nan isn’t a great conversationalist, but she makes up for it by being so freaking hot. We had a quiet cocktail together while I turned the charm up to 11. I’m determined to reel her in, no matter how long it may take.
Then I walked from LK to the Beach Road, and then to Walking Street. The Pin-Up cartel has opened a new gogo called Eden, creating a new challenge for this redlight rat: can I get a happy-hour drinks between 20.00 and 21.00 in all five of their gogos? I’m going to predict a “yes” to that question. Speaking of Pin-Up, I’d skipped them for a week, mainly because the one gal I like in there hasn’t been showing up. I popped in on Monday and Holy Moses, what a line-up. I counted four 10s and a 9 in the first rotation, which is astounding in current year. Rota two had two 9s and two 10s.
I hurried to finish my cocktail, however, because I was excited to check out Eden. Not that I thought it would be any different from the other gogos, but to a redlight monger, a new gogo is like a wrapped present on Christmas morning. The joint had three stages with four, four, and five gals for 13 in a rotation. There were more chunkers than I was prepared for, but also a small contingent of hotskinnies. I was the sole customer at 20.20. By the time I finished my drink though, the joint was half-full. Atmos had two new dancers—well, maybe more than two, but I only notice the hot ones. Chick is the Walmart of tits. Its tits, and tits, plus tits, and for good measure, extra tits.
Midway through the week, my conc came over for a quick BJ, and nothing makes me want to hit the redlight like a visit from a hussy. For some reason, it sparks the embers of possibility with in my dark, decrepit soul. Fah messaged to say she missed me and to please visit her at her bar. Sure, its a ploy for ladydrinks, but its also training her to, when she wants cash, reach for her phone to send Seven a message. Soon that will evolve to include rent and manicure money.
So I hoofed it to Buahkao to say Hi to Fah and Nan. Fah already had a douchebag customer so I walked on to Nan, who shouted my name from 50 meters away. She’s quite fetching and sweet, but a waste of hotness as she won’t barfine—yet. I’ve started working on her, putting the thought in her head of what she could do with all the cash from Seven’s gravy train. I got the wheels turning, anyway. Buakhao was at a standstill at 19.00. High season really ruins the vibe of the narrow sois. Nobody can get anywhere because a hundred stupid farang are in the way. On Buakhao you’re perpetually an inch away from death, with foreigners on motorbikes driving like retards and old men limping around at super-slow speed. I walked through Tree Town and then Myth Night, just to get an idea of the crowd size. In low season, they’re sparsely patronized by customers. At the moment, the frenzy starts to build before 20.00.
Then it was on to The 6. Linda was upstairs getting fucked. Meenah is too eager to conc up. It turned me off. Anwar watched me pass by and said nothing. Pang was supposedly in the loo. Beem was midway through a bowl of noodles. I told her I’d return in a bit. She grabbed my junk without looking up as if to say, “You’d better.” Then a chick who I didn’t remember said “Seven! You never visit me anymore.” So I bought her a drink and used all my normal flirt moves. She was tall, slender, and pretty. I asked for her Line. She said she didn’t have one. I paid and bailed. Back at Beem’s she greeted me on the soi by grabbing my ass and fake humping me in front of everyone. We sat for a bit, drank some liquor and traded off rubbing each other’s naughty bits. If Buakhao was busy, Soi 6 was a clusterfuck. The number of girls has doubled in the last week. If a dude can’t get laid on The 6 now, he’s truly without game.
I stopped to visit Namwan, a little 19-year-old with sixpack abs, and who should be sitting with a customer at the next bar over but Tan, famously known for working at a different bar. She must’ve had a fight with another girl there. That’s typically why these chicks switch bars.
Then it was a slow harrowing songthaew ride to Walking Street where, as I approached Fahrenheit, Mina spotted me from afar and jumped into my arms. I pretended to carry her off down the soi, which everyone found hilarious except for security, who weren’t sure whether to leap into action or not. But I returned her with no fanfare and we had a drink whilst I massaged her bare tits like a fucking tit doctor. Then I slid to Shark, because I’d missed the Pin-Up cartels happy hour and Shark still did 105b specials after 21.00. The rotation I saw was unimpressive, but you can’t expect a lot from Ptown on a Wednesday.
High season in Pattaya is like an open-air zoo where the animals walk around and buy coconuts. The ugliest people in the world come to Thailand in winter. For a dude who grew up in LA in the 80s, when everyone was a fucking supermodel, the dregs of planet Earth are hard to look at.
At 22.00 Shark put on a show. That is to say, 30 chicks vacated the stage so 4 gals with some pole talent could do their thing. I’m not saying it wasn’t impressive, but I’d rather watch two dozen hotties do the skytrain shuffle. As I tried to leave, I inadvertently knocked over a dude’s beer. I put 200b in his bin. He tried to refuse but I bailed before he could say anything, and I think that’s the way a punter should handle that kind of faux pas. Then I slid into Sapphire for a 139b Tiger pint.
I think the focus in places like Sapphire have shifted. When I first came here, the girls all wanted to barfine. It was the goal in every bar from soi 1 to WS. But sometime around the scamdemic, things changed. The cost of taking a girl home skyrocketed, and the customers’ vision of the night quickly shifted to the same as a night out in their hometown. In the West, men are used to going to a strip club, ogling the women, maybe getting a lap dance, and going home. So when Thailand’s gogos suddenly quadrupled the price of a 30-minute tryst, the sex tourists just adapted to the new outrageous prices by not barfining. The crazy thing is, it hasn’t affected the turnout of customers one bit. The bars are still rammed with what are evidently just lookieloos. They come all this way to stare at gogo dancers onstage. It’s a testament to how toxic things have gotten in the West, which is now a haven of misogyny and torture for straight men, to the point they’ll travel halfway around the world just to look at a pair of tits without criticism. Jesus, what a sad commentary on the culture.
On Friday it felt like 100,000 new tourists had descended overnight. The crush of human refuse on my street was claustrophobic. The Buakhao Market was unnavigable the south road gridlocked by 9 am. I went for a haircut and showed the barber a photo of what I wanted–short on the sides, long on top. He ignored my instructions and cut how he saw fit. The result wasn’t terrible.
And that was the end of my week in paradise. In a couple days I’m flying to California to spend Christmas with my mum so I’ll have to dig up something to post here so you’ll have a 10-minute distraction next Sunday.
For any old Members who miss my photo albums, or for anyone wanting an eyeful of redlight content, I managed to swap out a new paywall, so now, 10 years’ worth of redlight photos and videos are accessible with a $16 one-time payment for lifetime access. Click on the “Members Only Content” link at the top of the homepage and use the PayPal button. There you’ll find thousands of photos and dozens of videos of the redlight flavor for your visual enjoyment. To help your ease of access, here’s a link to all the MO Galleries from 2024: https://bangkokseven.com/for-members-only-all-of-2024s-galleries/
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.
Pro Tip Post-Script:
What Grinds My Gears This Week: Periodically I’m going to replace the Pro Tip Post Script with a winge. Here’s one:
