I Have No Game.

I was in the car with my roommate the other day and we were talking about what guys normally talk about - booze, video games, and broads.  I was telling him about how I met this very cute French girl through a yoga class and how I had just asked her out, to which he replied, "damn son, you just go for it don't you?"  I guess I do.  Later on in the conversation, we were recounting our sexless college years and why we did not (or could not) live the hedonistic college lifestyle of our peers.  He spent too much time in his dorm room playing online role playing games, while my explanation was, "I just had no game back then." 

His response surprised me and was a little off putting.  He told me, "Dude, you still don't have game.  You just don't give a fuck anymore."

Self-improvement has always been a big deal to me.  I was born with a great many talents and abilities, chief among them is my intelligence as well as my natural ability to make friends and connect with people.  I was not, however, born with any sort of innate ability with women.  Much of this blog has been recounting my adventures in dating as a single guy, and a lot of it has to do with "success stories."  Like any other guy, I get rejected far more than I get accepted - it's the nature of the game.  I also, in my life, started from a point of deep insecurity when it came to women.  It wasn't like starting from zero - for me, it was like starting from negative 100 when it came to my ability to relate romantically with the opposite sex.  I have done just about every "wrong" thing in the book when it comes to women - obsessed about girls who I didn't even talk to, tried to "friend" my way into relationships, took rejections as an indictment not just on my abilities, but my character.

I've done a lot of work since I was in my teens, not just with regards to my love life, but with regards to my life in general.  There was no epiphany moment - just a series of small improvements that led to a life of greater satisfaction and self-esteem.  But when my roommate told me he didn't think I had "game" I took it a little more personally than I thought.  One of the more abiding fears I have is that I am still the same awkward gangly teenager that I was before and that I haven't moved forward at all.  The thought that I was still as "bad" at "the game" as I was in my teens got at a core insecurity of mine.

But then I began to reconsider.  What, exactly, is "game?"  I found this question surprisingly difficult to answer.

In my roommate's conception of "game," it's a man's ability, using some combination of his innate characteristics and some verbal jousting, to get a woman become sexually interested in him at a higher rate than the average guy.  Indeed, there is an entire pick-up industry dedicated to teaching men lines and routines aimed to do exactly this.

And, my roommate is right - I do suck at this stuff.  I'm really bad at verbal jousting and "adversarial" flirtation.  I'm awful at being coy.  Maybe it's because I'm a really bad liar, but it doesn't really come naturally to me.  I'm terrible at saying something while implying something else.  I'm just no good at that wink and a smile stuff, and trust me, I've tried it.  The results have been awful.

But on the other hand, if we judge our "game" based on our results, then the story shifts.  If you want a guy who'll charm the socks off the hottest girl in the room, I might not be that guy.  But I am perfectly comfortable approaching a good looking woman and asking her for her number if I find her interesting.  I'm also, on the whole, happy with the kinds of women I've attracted in my life.  At the end of the day, isn't this the only thing that matters?

I love sports analogies.  I don't think that any professional basketball player will tell you that they emulate their "game" to mirror that of Michael Jordan.  They instead tailor their game to their strengths, through a lot of trial and error and practice.  Steve Kerr, the Chicago Bulls' deadly outside shooter from their championship years, couldn't play like MJ; in fact, he would likely fail and fail hard if he tried.  Instead he perfected his 3 point shot and became a key piece on a championship team.

Continuing at that analogy, I have long given up any notion of becoming a certain kind of "player archetype".  I can't do the bad boy thing - after all, I'm a nerd, and, at my core, I'm a genuinely nice guy (which must be distinguished from the "Nice Guy" archetype that assumes being nice is enough to get into a woman's pants).  I'm also, for better or worse, emotionally attuned.  Trying to be someone I'm not only further disassociates me from who I am. 

But getting out into the world and facing rejection also helped me realize that there were certain things I was good at.  Verbal jousting wasn't my thing, but, given my level of emotional awareness, I could reach deeper and get to know her on a more intimate level in a shorter time period than most people I know.  What also felt more natural to me was my ability to express desire without regret, which, after much rejection and a lot of time spent getting bruised in the dating game, has come to be something I do more naturally now. 

Connection and desire - those are the two things I'm good at, and those are the two things that I rely on as my bread and butter with all the women I'm interested in.  Does it work with all the women I am interested in?  Absolutely not.  And maybe I don't have "game."  But I do okay for myself, and that's what matters.

Scenes from a Wedding

I know I said I'd update all of you on my latest hot lead - the Kenya girl - but before I get to that, I'd like to recount a brief story of a wedding I went to in Chicago.

I'm entering my 30's this year, and, as is often the case, I've found myself going to a steady diet of weddings every spring and summer for the past 3 years.  After returning from Thailand, I barely had time to recover from jet lag before I had to go to my friend Lucky's wedding.  Lucky is actually 7 years or so older than me, but we met years prior in California and became fast friends, bonding on a mutual interest in Chicago sports, Chicago politics, and, well, everything Chicago.

Lucky's story of how he met his now-wife is a story of fearlessness and honesty.  He was stuck in a deteriorating relationship with a woman he had fallen out of love with but was bound to, at least temporarily, by a mutually signed lease.  They were no longer talking and no longer sleeping in the same room.  One night, he went out to Octoberfest and met a girl and went home with her that night.  The next day, he came home and his ex-girlfriend demanded to know where he had been the night before.  Instead of making up a lie, he told her the truth - that he had met and slept over at another woman's house.  His ex-girlfriend kicked him out of their apartment, and he proceeded to march over to the new girls house and explain to her exactly what happened.  She offered him a place to stay and, 3 years later, I'm attending their wedding.  It's the story of how a one night stand turned into something so much more and proof that sometimes the truth is stranger than fiction.  But crazy love stories like that are more common than you think when you listen to enough of them.

Anyways, back to my story.  I had initially put down a +1 for Lucky's wedding, but the implosion of my last relationship meant that I was flying solo.  But then I had a thought while I was in Thailand - why not do something crazy and see what happens.  Enter Kelly, the "perfect girl for me".  Well, according to my friends at least.

I had met Kelly years before though mutual friends who were looking to set us up.  She's cute, smart, and spunky; certainly my kind of girl.  One problem: Kelly had a long term boyfriend.  The problem, in my friends' eyes, was that this guy was a total loser.  He let himself go dramatically during their relationship, both physically (he got fat) and emotionally (didn't take care of her emotional needs at all).  She put up with it, as many do, out of love, or, more likely, habit.  Our friends hoped that putting us together might inspire her to realize that there were handsome, motivated single men out there and that she didn't have to settle for second rate.  And indeed, when her and I got together it was clear that there was a social connection there, but I have no interest in meddling in other people's relationships, and it was also very clear that she still loved this guy, despite all his faults, so we both seemed content to be friendly acquaintances. 

Fast forward a couple years and I'm sitting in Thailand without a date to a wedding in Chicago, where Kelly happens to live.  Kelly, by now, has finally broken up with her loser boyfriend, so I figure, what the hey, might as well shoot her an email and see whether she wants to go.  She responds: it's a date.

The wedding itself is gorgeous.  It's being held at the Art Institute of Chicago ballroom, a gorgeous venue complete with balcony and, for this wedding, a swing band to boot.  My date shows up a little late but we get right down too it - like before, the connection between us is immediate and transcendent.  It's always funny the reaction some people have on you.  Sometimes, connecting with someone is like pulling teeth, sometimes, we fit together like two puzzle pieces.

Well, mostly at least.  Of course, there was a catch.  Kelly had indeed broken up with her boyfriend several months ago, but she immediately took on a rebound lover who she was currently involved with.  Not only that, the boyfriend, being spurned, decided to "get his act together" and was working out and promising all the things he refused to provide before - commitment, marriage, emotional support, all that jazz.  Of course, she was torn between the familiarity of an old love, the fact that her rebound guy was actually a pretty nice guy, and now, me.  In other words, she was a hot mess.

Still, a connection was there and I figured that it was time to try something a little new: radical honesty.  Maybe it wasn't going to ever happen between me and Kelly - distance and circumstance seemed to be conspiring against us.  But that shouldn't stop me from expressing desire and attraction, dropping all the pretenses and putting my true intent out there without fear of rejection.  Getting from to the point of just putting out that you like someone is, for some, harder than a lot of people think, mainly because of the fear of rejection.  That's why you have guys who toil in the friend zone and awful stories of men (and some women) trying to "friend" their ways into relationships.  People hide their true intentions because they're afraid.

Of course, being afraid is normal, but letting those fears dictate your actions is where unattractiveness comes from.  So my resolution since the end of my last relationship has been to just be as expressive as possible, and act despite whatever reservations or fears I might have.  I was not sure what Kelly felt, but I knew what I felt - there was this attractive person in front of me who, while being a hot mess, I liked despite of everything.  And so I told her exactly that, without expectation and despite my anxieties.

Kelly's response was, initially, mostly of surprise.  She told me it's not often that someone just puts something like that out there.  And then the night took a turn for the romantic.  It was as if something opened up.  When I took her hand and brought her out to the dance floor, we talked about how we'd have our wedding right at this spot.  At the end of the night, she asked me to come get drinks with her... and I politely turned her down.  I told her that maybe after she sorted out all the other issues in her life, and if the universe brought us back together, I'd take her up on the offer.  I hailed her a cab, closed the door, and watched it speed away into the Chicago night.

I realized this night that radical honesty is not only attractive, but it's liberating.  It liberates one from fear.  After the words are said and the intent is made clear, then it's just a matter of sorting.  If love is a gift then there is really no such thing as rejection, just regifting.  I probably wont end up with Kelly, but we had a romantic time at a wedding... so I can happily check that one off the bucket list.

The Tale of Two Dates

It's been a while since I posted this blog, but here I am, up with an all too frequent bout of insomnia, so now's a good a time as any to update peoples on my comings and goings, especially in regards to my love life.  I'd like to say that I was out having out tons of romantic adventures during my 3 month hiatus, but I've just been absurdly busy with that other priority we call a "career".  I know, boring, right?  Other than a couple pretty lousy dates that I didn't feel the need to post about, it's been all quiet on that front, at least until recently.

I've actually been seeing two prospects right now, one I'll call the Reporter because, you guessed it, she's a reporter, and the other I'll call the Kenya girl because, well, she's currently off in Kenya until March.  Ick.  There are also a few other prospects on the radar, but they are only theoretical at this point and if they materialize into anything I'll post about them, but until then they exist ethereally in my mind.

I think that the three things that make up a romantic partnership are attraction, chemistry, and compatibility.  These three things are often confounded with one another, but they are actually pretty distinct, in my opinion.  Attraction is how physically attracted you feel about someone.  Another way of putting it is, how fast does this person make your head turn?  Compatibility is the least sexy but probably most important aspect of a relationship - it's the shared interests, values, and life goals that become the glue that hold a romantic partnership together.  Chemistry is the most "black box" variable in this entire equation - it's the combination of sometimes tangible and often intangible qualities of someone's personal style that inspire feeling and emotion within us.  Obviously these things are all correlated - you're more likely to feel physically attracted to someone with who you feel intense chemistry with, and sometimes vice versa.  But it's important not to confound the three concepts.  They are distinct.

Ideally, a relationship will feature all three, but sometimes entire relationships and marriages are based of two or just one of these ingredients.  An arranged marriage may feature only attraction and compatibility but no chemistry.  A companionate marriage may feature only compatibility.  A friends with benefits relationship may be based off of just sex and a brief window of compatible wants.  A one night stand could be just about attraction and nothing more.  If you've ever met someone who married someone else who was far less attractive than them, this is a great example of chemistry and compatibility with less attraction.

In the past few months, I've experienced at least two combinations of these variables - chemistry and compatibility minus attraction, attraction and compatibility minus chemistry.  If I look back far enough in my life, I also experienced a third combo long ago - chemistry and attraction minus compatibility, but that's a story for another blog post. 

So, the first story is the story of the archeologist - chemistry and compatibility without attraction.  She was one of the first girls I went out with when I got back from Thailand, and, yes, I met her through the internet.  She messaged me and seemed interesting enough paper as well as attractive enough by her pictures so I figured, what the heck, it's just a date right?  When we got together, I was stuck instantly by how well we got along - the chemistry between us was great, and we shared a lot of values and the same sense of humor.

But, there was a catch.  While her pictures made it seem like I could be attracted to her, in person she was just... borderline at best.  But the chemistry was so strong that I felt compelled to keep seeing her for at least a little, just to see whether the other two variables outweighed the first one.  On our second date, we made out a bunch and the clothes came off, but it ended there because I really couldn't get around the fact that I just didn't like seeing her naked.  Call me shallow if you will, but that was the rub unfortunately.  She was deeply upset when I had to end it with her because, by her admission, we had just great chemistry, and she was right.  But, to thine own self be true, as they say.

The second story is the story of the surgeon.  I met her through mutual friends - she was pretty, kind, smart, successful, and nerdy.  In other words, exactly the kind of girl I, theoretically want.  And, she liked me, my most important requirement.

However, after a few weeks of dating, it was abundantly clear that "something" was missing, that something was chemistry.  Put simply, I didn't feel it.  The attraction was there, and the compatibility was there, but the chemistry wasn't and the more I went out with her, the more I sort of felt as though it wasn't going to work.  When I kissed her, I felt as though I was doing it because I felt I should, and I simply didn't feel that spark. 

So, a couple tales of "close but no cigar" in the fall.  I'm still happy to have had these experiences, an am holding out for the girl who can hit all three cylinders... which brings me to the Kenya girl.  But, maybe next time.

Reader Mail

I got my first bit of reader mail today, and here it is with my response, reprinted with permission.

Dear Doctor,

I thought I'd write you because you seem to enjoy writing, with the blog and all, and you seem open to new people. I've never been very good at having deep connections with people. My friendships are pretty superficial and every time I try to open myself up it seems to go awkwardly. I don't know if that's the type of people I'm doing it with or what. But long life story short, this inability to make close, intimate friends (or even get to know new people quickly) has contributed to a lot of my anxiety with women and social situations, hence my interest in Mark Manson's writing. 

I'm a Canadian, but I'm leaving for grad school in Germany in 3 weeks. I don't know anyone there, speak a little German, and my major anxiety about the whole thing is meeting people. I'm terrified that I won't be able to make good friends. I just stumble at getting to know them and I'm not sure how to get better at this. You mentioned in your blog post today that your skill of forming intimate, lasting friendships is notable. I want to be able to develop this skill. Do you have any wisdom to impart? Is it just being intensely interested in other people? Is it trying to make yourself as interesting as possible (Definitely don't feel comfortable with this one)? I'm stuck here and I don't really have any role models in my life that make friends so effortlessly. Your blog post really interested me and I guess inspired this email. So if you feel like writing to me about it, I'd appreciate it. Hope the weather's nice wherever you are.

D

I think that, in regards, to your problem, you're already on the right track by stepping out of your comfort zone and going to graduate school in germany.  I think the real key is exactly that: your comfort zone.  Don't tell yourself, as many do, that you are unable to make friends - it merely is a matter of expanding your comfort zone so that you feel comfortable interacting and making these sorts of intimate connections with people.  In that sense, the ability to make friends is something that can be cultivated - like working out a muscle, we can practice at it.

Here are a couple tips I have

1) Put yourself in situations where you're interacting with new people constantly.  This means not only hanging out with your graduate student friends, but also seeking out new opportunities in the new place you are in.  The internet, meet up groups, and the like can be useful for this.  This can be intimidating - I understand.  But doing this is half the battle.

2) Accept that you wont make friends with everyone and that every relationship you have will take on a different property and form.  Not only that, people will not always get along with you and you will not always get along with them.  Making a lasting friend is a combination of shared interests and ease in communication, as well as building a history together.  This makes a true intimate friendship, while not a rarity, something that must be built on.

3) The key, though, to building a truly transcendent relationship with someone is letting yourself be vulnerable with them.  This goes hand in hand with no. 2 - that you can't make friends with everyone.  Some people will find your true being - your imperfections, your flaws, the ugliness, the messiness, and the beauty that all entails - and not be interested.  But if you want to build a true bond with a friend, this is a requirement.  My best friends have seen me at my worst, and they have seen me at my best.  My roommate is one of my best friends, and he has seen me break down and cry, as I have him.  It brought us closer together, and I can safely say that it builds something authentic and real.

I hope that these tips help.  Remember that being social and building friendships takes work and practice.  You are already on the right path by putting yourself out there.  Strive for transcendence, accentuate the positive, and I have confidence that it will work out.  

Best of luck,

The Doctor

My Father's Eyes

Growing up, I remember my father as a distant, stoic figure.  He was quick to assess critiques, but uncomfortable with being affectionate and loving, as if he himself didn't know how.  He raised me and my brother with the constant specter of disapproval, which made him like most Asian fathers.  Every now and then we'd catch flashes of warmth from him; a smile, sometimes even a laugh.  When I graduated from college, I remember seeing him as I was making my walk after having received my diploma.  His eyes beamed with pride, but sure enough when I saw him later he was quick to lecture me on how I blinked too much when nervous.

Needless to say, it was hard to be close to this man.  It was even harder after he and my mother began their long estrangement.  Me, my mom, and my brother had moved back to the United States while my dad kept his job in Thailand.  The plan was that my dad would continue to work in Thailand with the goal of returning to the US eventually.  He would come visit once or twice a year.  This did not work out.  One one of his trips back, something was wrong.  My mom sensed it immediately.  He had met another woman.

It was a difficult period in which tears and recriminations pierced the thin walls of our tiny apartment.  I awoke my brother during one of these arguments and told him that I wanted to leave, even though it was during the dead of a midwestern winter.  I wanted to be anywhere but there, trapped in a prison of my parents crumbling marriage.

My mom let us know that our father had absolved himself from the spirit of their marriage contract, even if they decided to continue to honor the legal one.  She was heartbroken and spent the better part of the next decade bitterly denouncing him to all who would listen as the man who ruined her life.  For the longest time, I shared in her bitterness and empathized with her status as the scorned party.  The distance between me and my father grew into a gulf.  It would take years for that gulf to close, and this essay recounts just the last part of that story.

One of the hallmarks of growing up is the moment when you recognize the humanity of your parents.  Growing up, especially in an Asian household, the word of my mother and father was like the word of God.  Obedience was not just expected, but required.  Rebellion meant not just a betrayal of the filial bond, but also a deep sign of ingratitude, the worst of the Confucian sins.  Seeing that your parents are human, seeing that they've made mistakes, and forgiving them for those mistakes is one of the benchmarks of a matured life.

On my latest trip to Thailand, my father and I bonded like we hadn't bonded before.  Mind you, this wasn't something that happened over night, but I on my subsequent trips to Thailand over the years, I saw in his eyes the regret of a man who wished he had been closer to his sons, and the sadness of a man who didn't know how to bridge that gap.

On one late night car ride though Bangkok traffic, my dad opened himself up to me in a way he never had before.  He said that one of the main teachings of the Buddha was the fleetingness of life.  That, in any given moment, for any given reason, the end may come swiftly.  Being prepared for this inevitability is part of getting old, and that he hoped that he had done enough of a job on this earth to die, in Thai terms "eyes closed," which means to die at peace.  He told me that when he does go, he'd hope that I would return to take care of his body, but that he would understand if I didn't.

There he was, a man who was both a monolith in my life, and yet a distant source of pain and sorrow, opening himself up to me and saying something he never could before.  I'm sorry.  Forgive me.

Accepting the humanity of your parents means forgiving them for their flaws.  I told him gently that I would certainly come back for him, when the time comes that he pass.  After all, he is my father, and I love him.

I remember when I was young.  My father was not an athlete and he did not raise athletic kids, but he was always okay at running.  He would take me out to the baseball diamond at the park near the house where I grew up and we would run around the baseball diamond until we couldn't run anymore.  He would beat me, until one day, he had to quit ten laps before I did.  He put his arms on his knees and watched me keep on running.  I remember as I made my last lap, I looked at him.  He simply said, "I got tired."  In his eyes though beamed with a love and pride of a father who knew his son was growing to be something more than him.  This is the memory I choose to keep of my father.  Maybe he couldn't always be with me, but I know he was always watching me with pride and regret from the sideline.

Love is not a commodity, but a gift

I like to say that I'm only have three really notable skills.  I was either born with these skills or developed them over time, I really couldn't tell you either way.  The first is the ability to effortlessly use words to form concise and artful sentences.  The second is the ability to establish intimate and long lasting friendships.  The third is the ability to make passionate love.  Ok, I'm only half joking about that last one: you'll have to confirm with my ex-girlfriends about that.

As I wind down my trip to Asia, I was ruminating recently about how many new friends I made here, how many old connections that were reinvigorated, and how many people I will miss when I leave.  This is something I've always been exceptionally good at: making friends, no matter where I go, and no matter with who, regardless of age, circumstance, or creed.  Give me a beer, two chairs, and a smile and I'll make a connection under most circumstances.

My trip ends in a week and most of my days are filled up with dinners I need to have, drinks I need to do, and we're not even covering time I'm spending with my two-week Thai girlfriend (more on that later).  I always joked that if I was as good with my romantic pursuits as I was with my fraternal ones, I could give up my day job and become a gigolo.

But then I wondered, is the process by which we make friends all that different from the process by which we pursue lovers?  While obviously they are not one and the same, aren't we just talking about establishing an emotional and social connection with someone?   I like to say that I don't make good sentences; rather, good sentences come to me.  I also never try to make friends, I just put myself out there and things tend to take care of themselves.

But when it comes to dating and romantic pursuits, I always considered this a deeply daunting task.  Going on dates, hitting on girls, going out on more dates, online dating, and onward and so forth.  Just thinking about it exhausted me, and I often joked that I could see the appeal of becoming a monk.  When Hannah and I broke up, one of my first reactions was, "Dear God, I need to get out there again.  I just don't know whether I have the wherewithal for getting back into the 'game' again."

As I thought more deeply about why I considered finding and making a romantic connection to be such a daunting task, I realized that it was due to a fundamental way I viewed the world of love.  That is that I viewed love as a commodity.  Not only a commodity, but a scarce one at that.  Love was something to be sought, and when "found", to be treasured.  If I think deeply, this might have to do with growing up in a family that saw the marriage between my mother and father slowly break down and dissolve over time.  The love they had for one another petered out and at the end, all that was left was sadness and recrimination.  Whether consciously or sub-consciously, I vowed to make all my relationships from then on "perfect."

Because of this, I put up requirements for all my potential lovers: they had to have these things in common with me, be of a certain type, be nerdy, be smart, be sweet.  But I think, most importantly, I put pressure on myself to "get it right".  Each interaction was a high stakes game of poker.  I either folded right away when I felt the hand I was dealt wasn't a winner, or I went all in and put my heart on the line.

When it comes to making friendships, though, I don't see things that way at all.  If I like you, I will tell you and I will want to get to know you.  I was at a train station off in the provinces of Thailand last week and I helped as translator for a man from New Zealand.  Afterwards I offered him my email address and told me to get in touch if he was ever in Bangkok and I'd buy him a drink.  He never did, but I didn't care: I was offering because I genuinely wanted to get to know him better.  I thought about this, and that's when I realized...

My friendship is a gift, and it's a gift I give freely and often.  I give it freely because I have so much of it.  I have an infinite supply of my ability and want to be your friend.  Why can't my love be the same thing?  If it's a gift that you have an infinite supply of, then you can't ever be mad if your gift is turned down.  If you give it freely, honestly, and genuinely, without a need for anything in return, then you can never be disappointed.

Dating and the pursuit of love can be seen like a game, but what I didn't realize before is that the stack that I hold behind my hand is as large as I want it to be.  People cordon themselves off because they think the love they have to give is finite.  It isn't.  My love is as big as I want it to be.  Anybody can be offered it, it's just up to me to package it and start giving it away.

And this leads me to my next two stories:  the story of the one night romance in Singapore and the only pick-up line you'll ever need, and the story of my two-week Thai girlfriend.  Stay tuned, dear readers, there is certainly more to come!

My Adventures as a Red Light District Spy and An Interview with a Thai Hooker

I hold a dual-Thai and American citizenship and am 100% Asian, but Thais rarely think I'm Thai.  This can be both irritating and useful.  Irritating because Thais are often talking to me like I'm a clueless Korean tourist and, for whatever reason, it makes it so I'm not as good of a vendor bargainer as I could be.  Useful because I can sometimes sneak into places where I normally couldn't go, like the famous (or rather infamous) Soi Cowboy red light district in Bangkok.

A little background: Soi Cowboy is an alleyway in the center of Bangkok that features a row of strip clubs and go-go bars, replete with beautiful Thai women and western tourists looking to check out the legendary "ping pong shows", a little cheap love with an exotic beauty, or maybe some of both.  It's called "Soi Cowboy" because many of the bars are western themed, but also because of the main catch: the place exists exclusively for foreigners.  Bouncers do not allow Thai locals into any of the establishments.  If you even look Thai at all, they stop you at the door and ask you for your passport.  Why this is, I'm uncertain.  From what I hear, it may be because the girls don't want their real life boyfriends coming in and causing a ruckus.  Or it may be because the girls want to preserve a degree of anonymity with their chosen professions.  In any case, the norm is generally strictly enforced.

So this is where my ability to seem so naturally foreign comes in handy.  Not that I frequent the red light district often (or ever), mind you, but one of my good friends was in town recently and wanted to see a famous show and maybe get a little female attention while we were at it.  So, I put on my American accent and went off to one of the seediest places in Bangkok, for the first time ever.

To say that Soi Cowboy is ostentatious would be an extreme understatement.  It is a place that stands out even among the bright lights and crowds of the massive metropolitan known as Bangkok to where it's absolutely unmistakable.  Bright red neon lights flood the street, which, at the later hours, is lined with heavily made up girls in four inch heels, beckoning passers by to stop inside the establishment of their employ and have a drink.  Cries of "Mister, mister, come inside" trail us as we walk down the the brightly lit street.  Interestingly, one of the girls is wearing these super cute hipster glasses and, aside from wearing a tube top about two sizes too small, is a girl that I'm surprisingly very attracted to.  Her shy grin wins me over, and that's the place we decide to go.

Inside, we see a line of foreigners seemingly in a trance staring at pole dancers dressed in nothing but cowboy hats and boots doing an acrobatic dance.  We sit down and order ourselves a drink: 400 baht for a beer, which is about US $12.50, normal club prices in the US, but absolutely exorbitantly expensive in Thailand.  And that's when the fun really starts.

Two girls immediately come over and start talking to us, trying to get us to buy them drinks.  One of the girls is a dark skinned beauty and she seems to have taken a special liking to me, for whatever reason, as she tells me in broken English that I'm hot and starts grinding against my leg.  First, it takes all of my conscious effort to respond to her in American English instead of Thai, and second, she must be an extremely good actor because I really did get the impression she thought I was hot.  I guess they don't call it the land of smiles for nothing.

While me and my friend are sharing our exorbitantly expensive beers with our new found groupies, I'm noticing that the girls on stage have changed from the acrobatic dancers to a row of girls who are just sorta club dancing to the music and who have numbers pinned to their tops.  At first I was a little confused, but then I realized that there were actually two types of girls who work at the club: dancers, and "company girls", or girls who are there for patron company.

The idea is this - if you see a girl who you like, you call over the hostess and tell her their number.  The girl then checks you out: if she likes what she sees, the she comes over and has a drink with you.  If she doesn't, you're told to try someone else.  Most girls there can speak decent enough English.  They come over, flirt with you, and if you really want to, you can take them out of the bar... for a price.

And, I think it's safe to say that the girls here are stunning, even for their chosen profession of dancer/hooker.  If there's a stereotype about Bangkok and Thailand that's true, it's that you really can get a beautiful girl for the right price.  

My friend is smitten with a dark skinned beauty on the stage and asks me to pick out a girl to make our party a foursome.  As a side note to all this description, at this stage I'm absolutely overwhelmed with the sensory overload that has been this place so far.  Soi Cowboy is really smack dab in the middle of the city: one instant I'm walking through the rainy Bangkok streets and the next, I'm in a strip club with a girl grinding up against my leg (I wasn't that into her so we sent her off).  I decide to play along, but mostly because I'm curious about the experience, and so I pick a very cute girl with a bubble booty (Asian girls with booty, now that's a rarity) and the next thing I know I have a pretty girl on my arm.  

I'll be upfront: I've never been into the sex for money thing.  I just don't believe in spending money for something that really should be free, but I also decline to pass judgement on consenting adults who do decide to partake in this commercial transaction for sex.  Not that I don't think it's part of an inherently exploitative patriarchal system, but I think that with two consenting adults at least it's an honest one.

So my friend decides he's so smitten with his girl that he wants to take her out of the bar.  This necessitates a fee that we have to pay the bar to take the girl outside.  It's how the bar ensures their take from these girls, and I'm assuming that the girl gets to keep whatever money her client gives her that night for herself.  This fee is about 800 baht (or 25 bucks) per girl, and my friend pays the fee for both his girl and mine.

All of a sudden we're off to a hotel and I'm thinking, wait a minute, I'm going to a hotel... with a hooker.  An extremely pretty girl, but a hooker none the less.  Am I actually going to go to bed with her?

The answer to that is... no.

We go to a local hotel right there in the red light district, which charges by the hour.  My friend goes into his personal room, and I go into mine and I have sort of a Holden Caulfield moment.  I'm sitting on the side of the bed and she's wondering what's wrong.  That's when I lay out my cards: I start speaking to her in Thai and I tell her she's a beautiful girl but I'm just not into the sex for money thing.  She is surprised when I start talking to her in Thai instead of English and I'm relieved to find out that she's actually pretty happy when I say I don't want to do anything with her.  After this, we head down to the hotel lobby, buy ourselves a couple plates of pad thai from the mobile pad thai stand (which might be the most awesome invention known to man kind) and I do what I do best: I talk to her.

And that's how I came to have an interview with a Thai hooker.

She turned out to be a pretty sweet girl really.  Unlike most of the girls she works with, she's actually from Bangkok.  Most Thai hookers/dancers are from the northern regions of Thailand which are much poorer.  Girls come to Bangkok telling their families that they're taking a corporate job, but end up turning tricks instead to make money and send back to their poor families in the provinces.  

My girl tells me she does pretty much the same thing, only her family lives in the Bangkok area.  Her working at Soi Cowboy makes sense: the foreigner only requirement means that she never runs into anybody she knows at work, as her profession is a shameful secret.  She tells me that hooking is actually very lucrative, and in a good month she can turn out as much as 80,000 baht a month, which is an upper income level for Thais.  

The work sounds grueling though.  She said she works 6 days (nights?) a week and only gets one day off (and gets required days off when she's on her period).  She said she chose me because she actually prefers Asian clients.  She likes the way they look and her ideal scenario is to meet a wealthy Korean businessman who will take her away from this job that she wasn't thrilled to have.  She said she almost had this and actually went to Korea to live with a client of hers once.  Alas, it didn't work out and she had to come back.

She said she has a boyfriend, who, of course, doesn't know about her extracurricular activities.  He thinks she works a late night job as a waitress.  Even more amazingly, she told me that he is an Asian Muslim!   She said she liked him but wasn't sure it could ever work out between them.  

Overall, it was an interesting and sort of sad tale from a decent pretty girl.  In a way, her job makes her a good deal of money and she feels empowered because she's essentially an independent contractor.  But on the other hand, she's a girl with little education and no experience so hooking is about the only thing she thinks she knows how to do.  

At the end of our interview, I asked her for her number or email, which she declined to give me.  I gave her my email address and asked her to keep in touch: I genuinely liked her and wanted to see what happened in her life.   I haven't heard from her yet, and I suppose I won't be hearing from her at all... and it makes sense I suppose.  After all, she is a Thai hooker, and I'm just some weird Thai-American guy who asked her all sorts of odd questions.  But it did make for a nice story, on my part at least.