It all started with me and two young Thai guys cramped into a toilet cubicle.

Actually, no it didn’t, it started with me having sex with a girl on my apartment sofa while her friend robbed me.

Wait, wait, that wasn’t it either. It started in a sex club, where I watched a young girl pull a string of razors out of herself.

Alright, that sounds like the best place to start this story. The sex show. It wasn’t amazing, but it was amusing, although I did feel a pang of guilt for the sad looking girls on stage. There was one girl, not beautiful but better than the others on display, and I asked her to join us. She sat with me and my son, and I bought her a drink. This was the night Bam stopped drinking. We’d been going pretty hard for 6 or 7 days, but he came along with me tonight just to see what Walking Street in Pattaya looked like. It looked like a festival of fuckery. Women called and pulled at you, begging for money for sex. It was so constant we’d taken the invite into the sex club for a little respite.

The girls inside looked young but tired and jaded, and Bam and I giggled our way through the show, as customers drifted in and out around us.

The pretty, but equally as sad-looking girl who joined us, spoke no English so we Google translated awkwardly before I suggested we leave and go to a different bar. She got changed and we left.

We walked out of the club and took a right down Walking Street, and at the very first bar I was summoned by the international code of junkies all over the world: all the young Thai man did was sniff his nose in the air at me. I nodded, told Bam to wait there with the worried-looking girl.

I entered a toilet cubicle out back of the bar with two young men, aware it could be a trap and a lifetime in a horrific Thai prison, but also approximately 12 whiskeys in too deep to care.

I won’t say what it was they sold me, but it methed me up for 3 days.

I walked back out onto the street, feeling whatever it was take control. I’m no stranger to narcotics, but this was something else. I felt good. I feel hyped. The girl I’d left standing with Bam looked…scared. I felt like I was about to ruin her all night.

She touched my chest, almost as if to push me away.

“Send your son to hotel,” she said in bad English.

And whatever last crumb of reasoning I had, agreed with her.

Bam was cool, he’d had enough of the chaotic night life, and he was sober, and I was smashed, so he went gladly into a taxi.

I was stood with the girl by the side the road. The swarms of people whirled around me, the loud music from bars and the chat of a thousand voices poured through me. I felt like I could do anything.

Again, the last vestige of any clear sense I would have over the next few days clamoured for my attention, and found it.

I looked at the girl who’s lip trembled as she met my gaze.

“Thank you,” I said, nodding at the taxi which had been swallowed up by mopeds and bodies. “Go home. Keep the money.”

She looked like she would almost cry, but she placed her hands together in thanks and didn’t need a second invitation. She disappeared into the throng.

I returned to a bar we’d visited earlier in the evening, the drugs had a full hold of me as I marched in and asked four girls to come back to the hotel with me. Now.

This might seem a little extreme, but I was in a bit of a meth, and didn’t care about anything. What would soon become apparent was that I was also completely open to suggestion, and would go along with anything anyone said. It was like I tried to jedi mind trick the world and it fucking backfired on me. Spectaculary.

The bar maid, once a barman, settled me down and told me to take a seat, and two of the four girls I asked for sat with me. It’s approximately right around here that my memory gets a little hazy…a little spotty. I remember little of the bar and the girls, but I remember 2 of the 4 coming back with me, me having sex on a sofa with one while the other stood over my shoulder, talking to me. I don’t remember what the conversation was about. Could’ve been the fucking weather or mint condition Star Wars boxed figures for I know.

But I remember the shoulder hooker telling me to take the sofa hooker into the bedroom where we could all have more room for fun. So we did, and while i was steam training the sofa hooker in the bed, I looked over my shoulder and saw the bedroom door had been shut. I don’t know how long it had been shut, maybe 1 minute or 3 and a half months, but all I knew was that my street smarts had kicked in and I knew what had happened.

“You’re friend’s just robbed me,” I said, getting off her and opening the bedroom door. Sure enough, what money I had and the rest of the drugs had gone. The money only amounted to around £30, so wasn’t a loss, and she’d left me my bank card, thankfully. I feel like I’d got robbed nicely.
The sofa hooker emerged from the bedroom, getting dressed.

“Where are you going?” I asked.

She. Looked. Scared. Whatever it was I was doing, or whatever was happening to me was causing concern. To others. Not me. I didn’t give a fuck about anything.

She nodded at the table where the money had once been.

“No money,” she said. “I go.”

“But I’ve already paid for the night,” I said as she opened the front door. “I still have my bank card. I can get more.”

But she was gone, and I followed her out into the corridor, butt naked, calling after her, not in anger or frustration. I was shouting to her without any emotion.

“Don’t be scared, Miss Hooker, please come back.”

Because if she didn’t come back, I was so charged up I’d have to go get another.

So I did.

I returned to my Thai toilet cubicle friends and asked for more.

They looked at me strangely.

“You don’t need more,” they said. “Nobody needs more than one.”

I took another 3.

Once more I stood within the maelstrom of people from all over the world. There are 60,000 sex workers in Pattaya and I’m pretty sure most of them were on that street that night.

Once more my memory is shady, but I remember talking with a black girl for a long time, but once I tried to get some money from a cash machine, I got declined for hitting my daily limit. My daily limit was £1500. Make of that what you will.

Unable to get money, the black girl lost interest, saying something to me and huffing away. Whatever she said, she’d said in a…very manly voice.

Oh well. Next.

Next turned out to be right then as someone from behind, grabbed my hand, shoved it up a skirt, and said in a very female voice, “see I no lady boy”. My up-skirted hand affirmed the voice squealing in my ear.

I turned round and my saucer shaped eyes gazed into dark eyes equally as wide. She was super attractive. Or she might’ve looked like a postbox. I was a meth.

“I can’t get any money out,” I had to Google explain.

But, strangely, even considering the state I was in, she didn’t want paying. I wasn’t gonna turn that down (I wasn’t gonna turn down a monkey riding a banana at this point), so off we rode, 3 up on a taxi bike, one of my hands up her skirt as our host wobbled in and out of traffic.

Things got more shadier. My thought and reasoning processes were definitely affected as I did some pretty gnarly things with the girl from Laos in my hotel room over the next 2 days. I felt like i was on autopilot, coasting through someone else’s life, while also observing everything through my own eyes. When we weren’t fucking we were out shopping, but she’d always insist on getting back to the hotel to “boom boom”. She’d also made me buy her Listerine mouthwash, and she’d gargle it hard before she gave me head. Took me a few sessions before I realised she’d do it to numb her throat, and then she’d literally go at me like a woodpecker hammering at a tree.

One morning after I’d had breakfast with my son, Bam, who was in the apartment below, I returned to my own room where a cleaner was hovering, and the girl from Laos was talking around 1000 words a minute (as she always did), and fluttering her hands as at me like butterfly wings. I’d said to Bam that she was like a ladyboy but without the boy bits.

Bam had just looked at me.

Because the main bedroom was being cleaned, Laos ushered me into the second, smaller room, where I lay down to try and sleep for the first time in 2 or 3 days. But while I lie there, my mind raced, and I kept going back over the shitload of sex I’d been having, but something kept nagging away at me. Something to do with me giving her…

I sat bolt upright in my bed, like a clichéd cartoon figure who has just had a shocking realisation. I got up, walked out, and Laos started calling out to me from where she was in the main bedroom.

I waved her away, said I’d gotta go see my son.

Bam opened the door of his apartment.

“Bam,” I said, “she used to be a man.”

He looked at me blankly.

“Makes sense,” he said.

Whatever had been happening to me was slowly wearing off, and I started to think clearer. Memories leaked through, my mind connecting dots and threads.

“What gave it away?” Bam asked.

“When I was eating her out,” I said.

“I regret asking,” he said.

“Look,” I said, “I know my way around a woman. I’ve been practicing for years, but I’m telling you, when I went down on her, there was something wrong. It was…there was a nub there. Not a clit. Like…something had been attached and now wasn’t.”

“This is your 16 year old son you’re having this conversation with,” he said.

“How did I not see this before? I must’ve been more wasted then I knew.”

“What did she say she did before she moved here?” he asked.

“She was a soldier,” I said.

He looked at me, blankly, again, and more of the strangeness fell into place.

“Jesus,” I said.

“What are you gonna do now?” he asked.

“Avoid my room for as long as possible,” I said. “I’ve got vague memories of asking her to come to England with me.”

“Oh. Wow.”

“Yeah.” The fog in my mind was clearing more and more. “Alright, fuck it,” I said, “let’s just go out and have some fun and I’ll deal with it later.”

And we did. We had an awesome day, despite Bam treading in some sewer water and needing some new shoes, but it definitely seemed a lot cleaner than what I’d been sticking my dick in lately.

Back at the hotel I wrote a long Google translated message, took a deep breath, and entered my room. Laos was there, and upon reading the message she wailed like a broken air siren, gathered her things, and then stood in the door of the apartment for 5 minutes. Wailing.

I felt bad until I realised that those great big, unblinking eyes never once had a tear in them. That’s when I think I finally methed have come to my senses. Something about this whole adventure hadn’t seemed right. It wasn’t that I’d had sex with a woman who used to be a man, I didn’t batter an eyelid at that. It took me days to realise that what had really knocked me was I felt like I’d had all aspect of choice taken from me. Of course, it was my own fault, but she’d caught me just at the peak of me being in a state, and capitalised upon it. Fair play to her. She got me good. She’d added me on Facebook with what was clearly a fake account with someone else’s picture, but again, meth. I unfriended her.

I’ve looked back on the messages we had to translate between us while we were together, and I’ve got absolutely no memory of what had been said, and the promises we’d made. t felt like reading a conversation between two strangers, and both were out of their minds.

She still contacts me to this day.

The messages get angrier and angrier.

But I don’t block her. Maybe because it all seems so strange and surreal like it didn’t happen.

Although my numerous trips to the sexual health clinic proved it had.