So I’m stood there late yesterday evenin' in the queue at Foodland in Terminal 21, yeah, doin’ me usual bit of civilised shopping, ham, cheese, multipack of biscuits, bit of Twinnings English Brekkie, thinkin’ I’ll get home, proper feet up, bit of Netflix and a cuppa, then fall asleep halfway through some daft documentary about English gardens. Nice peaceful plan, yeah lads.

 

Anyway, this bird in front of me’s got one of them hand baskets full of bits, the usual cast of characters: mama noodles, shampoo, some fresh chicken's feet, pack of Japanese mushrooms, some Tipco OJ, and a stray avocado rollin’ around like it’s lost its mates. And then, typical play, basket tips, the whole lot spills everywhere. Sachets of breakfast porridge flyin’ across the tiles like confetti at a shotgun wedding.

 

So I bends down, give her a helping hand, like a decent bloke does. She looks at me, flustered but still managing one of those soft little smiles, says thanks, then adds, “You stay here long time? You habb girlfriend mai?”

 

Now that’s not the usual “cheers for pickin’ up me bits” line, is it. More like a tester, seein’ if there’s an opening.

 

Then she flashes me that smile, flustered but cheeky, not just embarrassed, nah, there’s a bit of spark there. She’s tidy too, not your average flip-flop and yoga pants setup, nah, decent top, hair brushed, smells nice, proper bit of kit. I reckon she'd be worth a go. 

 

But right there I clock it. Hand comes up, brushing her hair back, and bang, big gold wedding ring, sparkling like it’s got its own postcode. And I’m thinkin’, here we go, casual grocery aisle flirtin’ from someone’s missus. Been here before, lads. Pattaya’s got more dodgy plots than stray soi dogs these days.

 

I just give her the polite smile, bit of a nod, stand up sharp, brush me hands on me shorts like I’ve just finished a shift at the garage, and focus on me packets of ham and cheese like it’s national security.

 

She smiles once more on the way out, one of them cheeky “you know you can” smiles, but I’m not about to become the lead character in someone else’s drama.

 

Paid for me bits, strolled out, still hungry, but not for someone's mashed-off husband.

 

Pattaya. You can’t even buy biscuits without someone tryin’ to cast you in a love triangle that’s only ever gonna end in regret.

Should have gone for it.  25% of my consistent list of ladies I see are married.  Their husband's fat, smoking alcoholics can't get it up.  Usually come see me when their hubby is playing golf or drinking with their buddies. Lots of fun because they really seem to need  sex.

A nice Darjeeling tea to accompany this morning's read. Lewie, good... but not up to your usual standards. I'm looking forward to a more involved storyline tomorrow.

2 hours ago, Lewie London said:

You habb girlfriend mai?”

She’s tidy too

Crikey, it happens to me all the time. 

 

What a coincidence, I thought I was the only one. 

 

3 hours ago, Lewie London said:

So I’m stood there late yesterday evenin' in the queue at Foodland in Terminal 21, yeah, doin’ me usual bit of civilised shopping, ham, cheese, multipack of biscuits, bit of Twinnings English Brekkie, thinkin’ I’ll get home, proper feet up, bit of Netflix and a cuppa, then fall asleep halfway through some daft documentary about English gardens. Nice peaceful plan, yeah lads.

 

Anyway, this bird in front of me’s got one of them hand baskets full of bits, the usual cast of characters: mama noodles, shampoo, some fresh chicken's feet, pack of Japanese mushrooms, some Tipco OJ, and a stray avocado rollin’ around like it’s lost its mates. And then, typical play, basket tips, the whole lot spills everywhere. Sachets of breakfast porridge flyin’ across the tiles like confetti at a shotgun wedding.

 

So I bends down, give her a helping hand, like a decent bloke does. She looks at me, flustered but still managing one of those soft little smiles, says thanks, then adds, “You stay here long time? You habb girlfriend mai?”

 

Now that’s not the usual “cheers for pickin’ up me bits” line, is it. More like a tester, seein’ if there’s an opening.

 

Then she flashes me that smile, flustered but cheeky, not just embarrassed, nah, there’s a bit of spark there. She’s tidy too, not your average flip-flop and yoga pants setup, nah, decent top, hair brushed, smells nice, proper bit of kit. I reckon she'd be worth a go. 

 

But right there I clock it. Hand comes up, brushing her hair back, and bang, big gold wedding ring, sparkling like it’s got its own postcode. And I’m thinkin’, here we go, casual grocery aisle flirtin’ from someone’s missus. Been here before, lads. Pattaya’s got more dodgy plots than stray soi dogs these days.

 

I just give her the polite smile, bit of a nod, stand up sharp, brush me hands on me shorts like I’ve just finished a shift at the garage, and focus on me packets of ham and cheese like it’s national security.

 

She smiles once more on the way out, one of them cheeky “you know you can” smiles, but I’m not about to become the lead character in someone else’s drama.

 

Paid for me bits, strolled out, still hungry, but not for someone's mashed-off husband.

 

Pattaya. You can’t even buy biscuits without someone tryin’ to cast you in a love triangle that’s only ever gonna end in regret.

Good for you having stopped one step before the abyss would have opened to you😂. Or your personal Armageddon 😂

Thanks. I love your stories❤️

Might have to face off with a Norwegian with a crossbow.

Betcha her hubby is a farang.

 

3 hours ago, bkk6060 said:

Should have gone for it.  25% of my consistent list of ladies I see are married.  Their husband's fat, smoking alcoholics can't get it up.  Usually come see me when their hubby is playing golf or drinking with their buddies. Lots of fun because they really seem to need  sex.

Hope they dont come for you with a machete

No issues here. I service Mrs. Smith all the time. She's grateful for the reach around and Bob pays me handsomely for my service.