Miss Perfect part 3.

 (More real life adventure from the sleazy underbelly of Bangkok. If you’re new here you may want to go back to Miss Perfect Part 2)

Happy New Year. I’m still here if anyone’s wondering. Basically I just can’t face going back to England in the winter. I know what it will be like. Also let’s be honest I can’t leave Nok. I know I’m not doing myself any good but she’s got under my skin. I can even see her for what she is, a little Thai tart from the country come to Bangkok to make some money. I’m not daft. I can see it all right but it doesn’t help. She’s part of my life.

We don’t talk much. Well we can’t can we? Her English is pretty basic and I only know nitnoi Thai. Just a few words I’ve picked up…sabaidee, kopkun and that. So conversation is limited. I’d like to know more about her family but when I ask she just sort of clams up. What about her mum and dad? They live in a village that’s all I know. I ask her what her father does and she says he is sick. Needs medicine every day. Today she tells me he wants Panasonic. I offer to get some from the pharmacy on the corner but she says no, same-same TV. Oh I see. Her dad wants a new TV. Fair enough. I hope he doesn’t expect me to buy it.

One thing I will say she’s no slouch when it comes to bed games. She seemed to have lots of energy and tell the truth I have a bit of trouble keeping up with her. It’s a relief when she stops sometimes. The part I like best is just lying there with her head on my chest stroking her beautiful black hair. That’s when I wish time would just stop and we could stay like that forever.

Time is funny here. I don’t know what the day of the week it is and I’ve forgotten the date. Which reminds me. I must do something about changing my return flight.

I walk around a bit but I still find myself with time on my hands. I mean how many times can you shuffle along Sukavit looking at T-shirts? Drinking beer is OK but even there you have to watch it. Can’t be staggering around drunk all day like some blokes I’ve seen. So when Nok’s off somewhere I often just lay on the bed staring at the ceiling. I’ve done more thinking since I came here than I’ve ever done in my life. But it’s funny. None of it seems real. I haven’t thought about Lorraine at all. She did OK out of the divorce. She got the lot really. So she’s got no reason to complain. I do think about the kids a bit but they’ll manage. I wasn’t much of a dad come to think of it. Probably better off with me out of the way. If I wasn’t driving lorries I was always in the pub with the lads anyway.

Me and Nok had our first little fight today. Well not a fight exactly more of a misunderstanding like. We’re on the Sky train right and she catches me looking at a Thai girl sat opposite with big tits hanging out of her tank top. ‘You like?’ Nok asks. So I give her a bit of a nudge and say ‘Oh yes, very sexy.’ or something like that. Should have kept my bloody mouth shut. Later in the room she’s obviously upset, won’t let me look at her tits.

‘Nom Nok small,’ she says, ‘no sexy.’

‘No, no, no,’ I say, ‘they’re lovely. Just right. Come here.’ But she’s not having it. The damage is done and anything I say just makes it worse. Women. They take every little thing you say and build it up into something else. You can’t bloody win. She’s OK after a bit of shopping but it shows how careful you have to be with them. Look on the bright side…if something like that upsets her it means she’s serious about me. Trouble is she thinks I’ve got an endless supply of money.

I saw that Chuck bloke again today. He’s sitting in his usual position in the Golden Bar staring at the street. He looks happy enough and the girls seem to leave him alone. He chugs away at his Singha and every now and then he writes something on a scrap of paper. Strange people writers. Wonder what drives them. He seems friendly enough though so I sit down.

‘Oh hello,’ he says, ‘how’s things?’ Hard to tell if he really cares or not. He acts like he’s seen it all before. I tell him I’m doing OK.

‘And how’s Miss Perfect?’

‘She’s all right I think. I never know what’s going on in her head tell the truth. Seems happy.’

‘That’s good.’

I tell him I just got my flight changed. Got another month here.

‘Ah,’ he says, ‘Sounds like you’ll be doing a visa run.’

We talk about the options. Down to Malaysia on the train doesn’t sound too bad. Or a bus trip to Cambodia. Not a big deal says Chuck. Expats do it all the time. You’ll get used to it. Then he says,  ‘You’ve read Private Dancer right?’

‘How did you know?’

‘It says so in Part 1.’

‘Don’t tell me you wrote that.’

He laughs. ‘No, not me. Stephen Leather wrote it. The bastard didn’t miss much either. Other Bangkok writers hate him.’

Professional jealousy I suppose. I’m not really much of a reader but I might have another look at that Private Dancer book. See if I can relate to any of it. Perhaps I missed something. I do seem to have a bit of time on my hands when Nok takes off. It will be something to do. That Chuck’s a funny one. I bet he’s wondering how to spin this story out a bit longer.