Some People Are Beyond Help
I really find it difficult to believe that thousands of western men over the age of forty, some well over, actually believe some nineteen-year old Thai nymphet is in love with them. These are young girls, and whilst they may come from a relatively poor background their escape route from poverty is not through marriage to an overweight, unattractive, balding moron three times their age. I know that there are examples of western men meeting, marrying and enjoying a long and happy life with their Thai female partner. I am fortunate in being one of those examples, and however much Mrs. Boss and I may disagree, we have been together many years and remain very close and are still in love with each other. We have three wonderful children, a successful business, and a beautiful house and our lot is a happy one. However, Mrs. Boss was not nineteen when I first met her and we took rather longer than a couple of weeks before getting engaged or becoming a married couple.
I do, in some way, feel slightly sorry for Jack (the fellow I mentioned in my last post). Although I remain steadfast in my belief that he should know better — much better. He is a gullible fool and he has been taken for a ride by a beautiful girl who has more tricks up her sleeve than a magician has rabbits. Jack is a simple guy. He is just looking for love, but unfortunately he is looking in all of the wrong places. These girls are professional bank robbers and they can spot their prey through a crowded smoke filled bar in the same way that from a long distance off, the hungry lion can single out the weakest wildebeest.
I was merrily typing away with this story when there was a knock on my office door. I started to look up but before my eyes were away from the computer screen the door had opened, Jack had walked in and said ‘I am not interrupting you am I?’ before embarking, without pause for breath, on another one of his mind numbingly tedious stories related to his fiancé. His unwarranted intrusion into my private space extinguished the little sympathy I had mentioned in the previous paragraph. He had crossed the line. It is not what I want, but you can bore me to death when I am in the general hotel areas, as I am there for that and, hopefully, other purposes. However, do not come into my inner sanctum, my escape from the world, without a pass signed in triplicate and a stamped appointment card.
Jack rambled on, my shoulders slumped, my eyes glazed over, alternative ways of committing suicide ran through my mind and I even laughed inwardly as I imagined his fiancé having sex with some other farang at this very moment, probably within a few hundred meters of where Jack now stood still proclaiming his undying love. ‘You know stuff about here, you live here, what do you think?’ I heard him say. Fortunately before I had the need to even consider a response he had continued “I think I will just send her twenty thousand baht today and not the fifty thousand she wants, that will teach her.†Yes Jack that will teach her, although what it is she will learn, if she needed such further education, is that you are a complete dimwit and that you should get the hell out of Thailand before your house, your possessions and your life savings are swallowed whole. You are just not mentally equipped with the necessary tools to be here.
My numbed state of being meant that I had completely forgotten I had been writing a story about this very person. It was sitting there open on my computer and Jack had apparently been looking at it as he talked at me. In order not to confuse you I would say here that, where necessary, I change the names of those that appear in my tales to save them from embarrassment to some degree and, far more importantly, to save me from lawsuits so Jack is not really called Jack! ‘What’s that about then?’ Jack asked and I now saw him looking closely at the computer screen ‘That your book then?’ ‘Ha ha, what a right plonker that bloke must be, you make it up or what?’ ‘I know I ‘ave me problems with the fiancé but that Jack, well there’s one born every minute, know what I mean, eh?’ Well, actually, yes Jack, I do know what you mean.
