Why I didn't get a tattoo.

by

PS


A while ago I was considering a tattoo.  A psychologist might attribute this to a mid-life crisis.   But I’m not sure I believe in the concept of a mid-life crisis. It strikes me that it’s a term used by middle-aged women to try and explain why their husbands don’t want to be trapped in a boring home, with a boring job, with a boring and no-longer-sexy middle-aged woman, instead of running away to Thailand to live out their years in drunken, sexed-up contentment.

Maybe a better term than ‘mid-life crisis’ would be ‘common sense’. 

But we farang are in truth far too hard on Western women. The fact is that most eighteen year-old men find eighteen-year-old women attractive. And as men get older and reach their twenties, most men still find eighteen-year-old women attractive. And as men get older still and reach their forties, do the objects of their desire age correspondingly? No. Most forty-year-old men still find eighteen-year-old women attractive.   And some of them control these attractions, subvert them, and build model railways, collect stamps, or grow vegetables.

 Others freak out one day in Tesco and run from their trolleys packed with high-fiber cereals and low-fat milk, screaming for a life that (to quote American Beauty) “doesn’t so closely resemble hell”.  And some of these have a short-lived affair with the lollipop lady. (British readers will understand this reference).   Others come to Thailand.  But maybe the woman too would like to surf away on her ironing board to a place where someone will tell her that she is beautiful, that her saggy tits are attractive in their culture, that wrinkles are a sign of experience and wisdom, that grey hair is a turn-on, and that cellulite is something that people pay to have implanted.  Africa maybe? I don’t know.  

 Back to the concept of a tattoo.  The desire was there. I wanted a tattoo.  But what should the tattoo be of?  I thought it might be cool to register a Universal Product Code (or UPC) as myself, and then be tattooed with the appropriate barcode. Thus I could be scanned, and my identity would pop up at cash tills. However, I found out that apparently barcode tattoos are far from unique and in fact rather passé – also that whilst tattooists can create impressive dragons and eagles with extraordinary detail, they couldn’t guarantee the accurate scannability of a barcode, and that it’s entirely possible I could end up as a pack of six toilet rolls or a can of Spam.  I then thought that maybe I would get a tattoo with a big heart and the name Noy. The name Noy is common enough in Thailand that one could pretty much always find a girlfriend called Noy, and therefore never have to go through the embarrassment of having to have it laser removed. But what if you then fall in love with a girl called Lek?

 I then thought about having the eyes and ears of an elephant tattooed around my penis – thus creating a sort of trunk effect. But to undergo all that pain for a visual joke that one could share with so few people, and given that such humor would be evoked at a time when in fact one might prefer passion instead of hilarity, this idea too was rejected.  But then I started to think about the sort of tattoos that are created in monasteries by the Thai monks. These not only look sort of timeless and cool, but also demonstrate one’s commitment to Thailand and its customs, brings one closer to the true spirit of Thainess, and allows one to explore ones own inner spirituality.  And apparently they ward off bullets and bad curses and all sorts of other shit.

 But then something changed my mind.  Working with a Thai crew, we needed to carry a heavy crate about ten yards across a courtyard. Halfway suspended across the courtyard was a clothesline. My two Thai colleagues seemed very uneasy and ultimately unwilling to pick up the crate. Finally they explained that they both had temple tattoos.   I still didn’t understand.

They explained that they couldn’t pass underneath the clothesline, because this would not only dissipate all the power that their tattoos gave them, but even possibly create some sort of negative energy that would weaken them.  But it seemed a slightly obscure belief.

They explained that a woman’s undergarments are often hung on a clothesline, and that nothing in Thai society is considered more taboo and disgusting than a woman’s knickers. No woman will ever allow another to wash her knickers, and for a man to wash them would be somewhat akin to jumping in front of Thai bus.  They further explained that the man’s head must never be below a woman’s waist.   I think you can probably guess already what concerns were growing in my head.

 If a man’s head couldn’t be lower than a woman’s waist, did that not preclude the possibility of cunnilingus. I’m not sure what the official Thai is for ‘cunnilingus’, but the phrase meaning to ‘lick an oyster’, is the common slang.  Please understand that these two Thai men were not effete artists, or Californian girly-men. These were big guys – Thai working men with roving eyes and limbs, guys who would think nothing of a five-hundred baht quickie behind the train station.  And yet the thought of orally pleasuring a woman turned their faces into masks of shock and disgust.

 Please understand that what I’m telling you is crucial information for the understanding of Thai-western relations.  Thai men do not go down on women!  Or at least, I’ve never yet found one who will admit it.  And believe me, I was so shocked by this information, I have asked many Thai men – taxi drivers, barbers, customs officers…

 So I have developed a theory.  When you ask a woman if she likes Thai men or western men, and the woman answers:  “I like farang. No like Thai men. Thai men too many ladies. Playboy too much.”  They are not telling the whole truth.  What they really mean is:  “I like farang. No like Thai men. Thai men no go down on me. Think pussy bad. Who the fuck wants that?”

 Thai men do not stand a chance. And until they realize this, we have an enormous advantage.  Because it is many farang’s dream to kiss a woman from head to toe, and most particularly half-way.  My research in the field has also confirmed that many Thai women have no experience of being pleasured orally.  As my head has gradually moved south, and reached a girl’s belly button, too many girls have slapped their hands over their pubic mound with a shocked reaction as they begin to figure out what I have in mind.  And as my lips kiss their soft thighs, their journey upwards finds only the girl’s fingers tightly covering their pudenda. 

But at the same time, their fear and shock is almost always equally matched by curiosity, and it generally doesn’t take a tremendous amount of persuasion to peel the fingers one by one away from the treasure they conceal.  But, the act of cunnilingus is often misinterpreted. It is sometimes seen as a sort of selfless act by a man – an act entirely devoted to bringing pleasure to the woman, an act of almost charitable proportions.   Well, I don’t blame men for trying to gain some sort of sexual currency through the act of cunnilingus. There is often the implication that if a man goes down on a woman, it is purely for the woman’s pleasure, utterly unselfishly, and thus a woman really should feel somehow indebted, and when the man asks for some small, strange, and slightly disgusting favour in return, the woman should feel obliged to reciprocate.   “For goodness sake! I went down on you for twenty minutes yesterday. Do you have any idea how horrible it is down there? But did I grumble? No. I did it for you darling. I did it to make you happy. And now when I ask for just one little thing to make me happy, you won’t help out. You don’t even love me that much. I’ve told you that it won’t hurt for more than a couple of hours…”

And historically throughout time, men have successfully brainwashed women into thinking that their pussies are dirty, horrible malodorous things that bleed and pee and excrete vile substances.   And it all works in our favour.  But since no woman would ever be seen dead reading this pervy little website, can we, just between us men, acknowledge that this is crap.

There is nothing on the planet as extraordinary and mysterious and unique as the pussy.  And the even more amazing this is that they’re all different – every single one. You will never ever find two the same. I’ve never investigated identical twins, but I’m told that even on identical twins, the vaginas are discernibly different.  That’s why we can’t stop looking at them. That’s why there will never come a time when a man says,  “No, I’ve seen what a pussy looks like. I really don’t need to see any more.”  

Every one is different.   And I want to see them all. I want to get up close and stick my nose in there and see exactly what’s going on. I want to publish a book, just of pictures of pussies. Don’t tell me it wouldn’t be a best seller.  And another thing.  They all taste different.  Some are coppery, like licking on a handful of coins, whereas others are sweeter like a velvety custard.  Why in books do they so often describe the ‘musky’ scent.  What the hell is musky?  The dictionary describes ‘musky’ as ‘or of like musk’.  And musk is “a substance secreted in a glandular sac under the skin of the abdomen of the male musk deer

Excuse me, but I’ve never met a musk deer, and even if I did meet one on a dark night, I probably wouldn’t go sniffing around his glandular sac.  So please, quit with the musky!  Some girls are so brainwashed to think that their private parts are also their most disgusting parts, that they shower obsessively before sex, which is such a pity, as any natural flavours are utterly masked by the artificial odor of Dove soap.  But what a delight when a girl doesn’t ask for a towel for the dreaded shower, but instead can be taken just as she is, with a day’s scent upon her, and all the pent-up excretions can be swallowed up by our willing tongues.  Am I going too far with this? Have I lost some of you?  What I’m trying to question is this:  Is it not true that the act of cunnilingus is pretty much as selfish as just about everything else that we do?   Is it not true that we couldn’t really care whether they’re enjoying it or not, as long as we get a mouthful of hot snatch?  Is it not true that when they twitch and buck, it pleases us, but only because it adds to our pleasure, and we don’t really give too much thought to theirs.

 But anyway…

Keep it to yourselves.

And for God’s sake don’t tell Thai men!