Sex in Mongolia

I am a single man and a global nomad.  I travel the world, working my way along, and I have seen/experienced a lot of things, including sex.

Sex (for a man) must be one of the most powerful urges.  Women who work in the sex industry and the men that pimp them understand that fact, and profit from it.

I will be the first to admit that I like sex; however, having been raised in a conservative, religious environment, I did not engage in the activity wantonly, without restriction, nor for purely hedonistic reasons.  Even when I stopped believing in a deity, I had my limits.

When I stopped believing in God (and the inane restrictions that came with the particular religion in which I was raised) in 1997, I was free to explore the wonders of cigarettes, alcohol, and yes, of course, fornication.  (I never engaged in adultery).  When the so-called love-life waned, I would engage in contractual encounters, (and that might offend some people, but I looked at it like this:  I was paying for a service that was offered to me by a business woman).  It was not unlike getting a foot massage or a pedicure.  There was no malice or dehumanisation involved.  Both parties treated each other with the utmost respect and mutual honour.  Although I must say that none of the women pretended that they were enjoying themselves.  It was just a business transaction, and I liked it that way.  It was honest.  [It will become clear why I mention this fact as you read to the end].

That all came to an end in 2009 when I was duped into having unprotected copulation with an unscrupulous woman.  (One might speculate that the woman wanted to get pregnant and force me into marrying her, but it would only be speculation).  From that ONE human Petri dish I received a cornucopia of diseases.  She had infected me with a myriad of bacteria and fungi that took months of doctor’s visits and treatment to clear up.

While I was going through that very stressful process, I prayed to God (saying: “If there is a God, and if you exist…..”)  I will NEVER copulate with another human being, UNLESS (and I left myself a little loophole), I am thoroughly in love with the woman (and she appeared to be in love with me); IF you, God, would make sure that I had no permanent damage from the encounter, including HIV or any other STI that doesn’t go away.

God, if he exists, kept his side of the bargain, and I have kept mine.

In 2010, I came to Mongolia, and since, I have not copulated with a single soul.

Now, let me fast-forward to the present time.  Last night, after a trip to a place of so-called “ill repute” (no sex involved), I went for some “buuz” at a 24-hour restaurant.  There were a bunch of drunken foreigners there, enjoying an after-hours meal.  One of the women, speaking loudly enough for everyone in the restaurant to hear, stated her belief thusly, “I think this country is a sex haven!”  And, as drunks usually do, she repeated herself several times, just to make sure we all heard her.  (Parenthetically, she was just talking to her friends, but we could all hear her).  I wondered what the Mongolians who could understand what she said felt about her statement.  I really do!  They all heard her.

I personally cannot deny or confirm her statement, but I found it ironic that I hadn’t had sex, EVER, in Mongolia, and I had been in Mongolia for going on five years.  As I was savouring the delicious buuz, I couldn’t help but thinking, “What the hell is wrong with me, that everyone around me is having wonderful sex whilst I am not?”

Earlier that evening, as aforementioned, I had been to a place of so-called “ill repute”.  I don’t call it that, others do.  I personally like the place.  I get to spend some time with some gorgeous women who seem to like me.  I get to talk with them and touch them (yes, for tips).  If I don’t touch them, sometimes they will take my hands and put them on their breast or buttocks.  I get to enjoy their company, and I imagine that they enjoy mine (and if they don’t, they are pretty good at faking it).  NO SEX IS INVOLVED, and thus, I get to keep my vow that I made five years ago.

I wrote above that I like the place.  Well, more accurately, I used to like the place.  Something happened last night that changed my mind.  Let me explain.

You see, usually, by the time I show up at the place, I am sufficiently inebriated to make the experience more enjoyable (less inhibiting).  Last night was different, I showed up sober.  [Big Mistake???  Maybe.  I guess it depends upon one’s point of view].  What I saw with sober eyes actually disgusted me.  I did NOT enjoy the experience at all.

I think that being inebriated puts the customer/client in his own little world.  Being sober, on the other hand, I was conscious of all that was going on around me.  That place was packed last night!  I was not the only foreigner there, but the other foreigners had wisely chosen the closed-off VIP section so as to not make the Mongolian patrons upset that we foreigners are polluting their women.  There was only one seat left when I arrived, and it was in the middle of the place where all (and I mean ALL) the Mongolian patrons could see me.  I was self-conscious.  I didn’t like being so exposed.  I was uncomfortable, and when the unsolicited lap-dances began, I became even more self-conscious and uncomfortable.

In addition to feeling and being exposed, I was very aware of what was happening all around me.

First off, there was “J” (the manager).  She tolerates me, because I am a good “regular” customer, but she doesn’t like me because she thinks that I’m just there to get sex from the women.  She even had her brother (the owner) take me up to his office one day and he lectured me that his club’s girls are NOT for sex.  He said that if I wanted sex, he would call someone for me and arrange it.  I assured him that I hadn’t had sex in four years, and that I had no intention of having sex with his club’s girls.  He bought me a beer, we drank and talked some more.  Soon, he having made himself very clear, and I having assured him that I would not solicit sex from his girls, we parted on excellent terms.  “J”, however, remains sceptical.  I just get those vibes from her.  When, you are drunk, you don’t care.  When you are sober, you care what other people think about you.  I wanted to go up to her and say, “I am not here for sex!  I am just here to spend some time with some beautiful women.”  But, she doesn’t speak/understand English well, and my Mongolian is only survival Mongolian.

Secondly, off at the far end of the club, there was the crowd of young, rowdy boys that were university age (but they didn’t look or act like university students).  They looked more like gangsters.  They were howling and hooting at the women, as if they were some kind of sex-objects, no more.  It was dehumanising, and I could see the expression on some of the dancers’ faces.  Some were not pleased.  Others were calloused to it.  It certainly wasn’t the first time that a bunch of rowdy, howling customers had come into the place.

Next to the rowdy gangster-like youths, was a solitary man, looking kind of pathetic.  He just sat there, never drinking his beer, and didn’t get much action from the women, probably because he didn’t tip well-enough.  After a couple of hours, “J” (the manager) got tired of him taking up space and not paying for drinks.  She went over to him and they had some words.  He didn’t leave and he didn’t buy any more drinks.  “J” lost that battle.

Later,  bunch of Mongolian women accompanied by one foreigner with a huge backpack came in and sat down next to the solitary man.  He moved over to let them sit.  Soon, thereafter, a huge middle-aged Mongolian man came in and started dragging out some of the women.  They all left.

Next to the solitary man was a group of 3 or 4 middle-aged Mongolian men, probably married, and probably there to get away from their wives.  Not a very interesting lot, except to say that sometimes I catch flack from the Mongolian men for frequenting that place as a single, heterosexual man, while they have wives and children at home.  SO HYPOCRITICAL!  They try to take the splinter out of my eye, while there is a beam in their own eyes.

Next to the uninteresting lot, was a VERY interesting couple.  Yes!  A Couple!  A man and a woman.  It was not the first time that I had seen a guy bring his girlfriend there.  In fact, I had been seeing it a lot lately (and never the same couple twice).  One time I saw a foreign man bring his female partner there, or was it the female partner bringing him there?  I don’t know.  Whatever gets you off, I guess.

Next to the couple, was a group of six middle-aged men, probably all married with children, and very, very drunk.  The eldest and most drunk of the lot was very demeaning to the women.  He called over one of the dancers for a lap dance (something I never do as I don’t have to; they come to me).  She acquiesced (after all that is her job).  I don’t know what he said to her, but she got off him and threw something at him and sauntered away with a sour, bitter face.  I hated to see that.  I felt sorry for her.  After all, she was my friend.

Next to them is the bar, where people can order drinks and settle tabs.  Then there was I, in front and centre, where all could see me (and I them).  Next to me, was the sectioned off VIP area, cordoned off by folding walls.  Every time I went to the WC, I would peek over the wall nonchalantly.  I saw a couple of foreign men with a Mongolian man.  They each had a “table girl” next to them.  A “table girl” is one of the dancers that sits with you for a set time for a set price, plus the price of the ladies’ drinks.  The men were all middle-aged.  I don’t know if they were married, but I meet a lot of foreign businessmen who come to Mongolia, leaving their wives and families behind in their home countries frequenting such places.  And, I’m the pervert????  I am a single, heterosexual guy, just there for the company.  I’m not intellectually “cheating” on my wife, because I don’t have a wife.  Who’s the real pervert?

Then, next to the VIP section is the WC.  It’s one of the cleaner and well-kept WC’s that I’ve seen in Mongolia, but somehow alcohol has a way of affecting a man’s aim when urinating.  I don’t understand it myself, because I always hit my mark, no matter how intoxicated I am.  While I was pissing that night, someone vomited their dinner and vodka all over the WC’s floor.  The amazing thing is that I didn’t hear it.  I just turned around and there it was on the floor.  No one in sight!  I don’t get that either, because when I vomit, I always hit the toilet bowl or sink or rubbish bin.  I never vomit on the floor.  “J” (the manager) was in there immediately to clean it up.  How did she know?  Did the culprit immediately go out and tell her that I had done it, so as to cover his tracks?  I don’t know.  “J” didn’t say anything to me.  She just cleaned it up.  The honourable thing to do would be to say, “Hey, I’m sorry, but I just threw up in the WC,” but why am I too sceptical to believe that that is what happened?

See?  When you are sober, you think about those things.  If I was sufficiently inebriated, I wouldn’t have cared, or I might have said, “It wasn’t me?” really loudly (‘cause that’s what you do when you are drunk); But, if I was sufficiently drunk, I would have been a suspect.  Hopefully, “J” was wise enough to see that I wasn’t drunk at all, and that I couldn’t possibly have been the culprit.  Who knows, though?

After that, the couple left, opening up a place for me to sit down in a somewhat less open space.  You see, two tables share a booth, and the booths aren’t really very private.  Anyone walking by could see in, and the guys at the next table could see me.  But, it was better than before.

I was really tired that night after a hard week’s work, and I might not have even gone that night, but I had a date.  That’s right, one of the dancers had been pressuring me for some time to “take her” as a table girl.  The problem was that I had been banned from table girls by “J”.  She didn’t say why, but I’m pretty sure that it was because she suspected me of soliciting sex.  So, I hadn’t ordered any table girls for a long time.  But, this was AFTER my little chat with her brother about not having sex with “his” girls, so I thought that the “air” might be clear enough for me to try again.  I told the dancer last time I saw her, “All right, you can be my table girl this coming Friday.”  And the date was set.  Before I went, I drank some coffee at home (which made me even more sober) and I was determined to keep our date, which I did.

“J” acquiesced to my request for a table girl without any fuss, which I found surprising, because it was that particular dancer that she was banning me from.  However, the whole time we sat together (the dancer and I), “J” kept an “eagle eye” on us.  It was humiliating.  And, I wasn’t even drunk.  I felt uncomfortable.  I didn’t enjoy my time as I usually would have, because I knew that we were being watched.

I wanted to touch my table girl, but I kept my hands to myself.  We talked.  Her English was one of the best of all the dancers, which is why I liked her, but it was not good enough to have a decent conversation.  So, I chatted with her in my pitifully poor Mongolian.

“Do you have an elder brother?”

“No.”

“Do you have and elder sister?”

“No.  I have a younger sibling.”

“Boy or girl?”

“Boy.”

You see, from talking to various dancers, I have found out that most of them do what they do to support their families.  I suspect she is in the same boat.

One dancer told me that she was supporting her younger brother to go through school in UB.  They were from the countryside.

“Do you like your job?” I asked.

“No.  Old men touching me.  I don’t like.”

But, she pretends that she enjoys it, and she is quite popular as she is quite attractive.

Another dancer told me that she has a boyfriend (whom I later found out was her husband), and a child.  She was supporting the whole family.  I felt sorry for her and her situation.  I tipped her extra and said, “This is for your baby.”

Another dancer told me that she was a university student and had no father (as he had abandoned the family).  Her mother was remarried and wanted nothing to do with the spawn of that previous marriage.  She (the dancer) was putting herself through university by doing that job.  I had the utmost respect for her.  Wow!  Putting herself through university, paying for her own lodgings and food!  I don’t know that I could have done the same thing.  I admired her.

Another dancer told me that she was an unmarried mother.  She was doing that job to support her child, herself, and grandma who watched the child while she worked.  Unbelievable!

I asked many of the dancers, “Do the men sometimes ask you for sex?”

“Yes!  All the time, but I am not a prostitute!” came the reply every time, without exception.

Another dancer told me that she was doing the job to save up money to go to Russia to study.

And on and on it goes.

I don’t treat them as sex objects.  I treat them as human beings.  And, they trust me.  They tell me things that they wouldn’t tell others.  But, what of this latest dancer?  What was her story?  Unfortunately, I was unable to find out.  Before I could inquire further, she was being beckoned by “J”.  It was her turn to dance.

What was her motivation?  Why was she there?  And, why did she want to sit at my table with me?  These are things that I would like to get to the bottom of, but I don’t think I will go back.  As I mentioned at the beginning of this tale, I was disgusted by what I saw that night (with sober eyes).

I saw allegedly married, middle-aged men with young women sitting on their laps, the young women undulating and gyrating, pretending to enjoy and old men’s hands all over their bodies.  It made me sick.  I saw young men hooting and hollering, treating the dancers as mere sex objects, to be used and discarded.  I wanted to vomit, but couldn’t.  I wanted to shout, “Can’t you see that these women are human beings, with feelings, and problems, and that they are just trying to survive in this cruel world?”

Then, I thought about myself.  Were those women just pretending to like me as well?  It was hard to tell.  I had never solicited a dance.  The dancers usually chose their clients (and not the other way around).  They just come up to you, and some of them can be quite insistent.  Even when you say, “No, I don’t want a dance right now,” they’ll still sit on your lap, and then demand at tip when they are done.  It’s nice to feel wanted, but is it me, or my money that they want?

I know what you are thinking.  You are thinking, “Of course, it’s your money, idiot!  They are whores, every one!  They may not give sex for money, but they are still peddling their bodies for money!”

Oh!  But, wait!  Do we not feel sorry for the man in Le Miserable, who spend his whole life in a prison camp for stealing a loaf of bread to feed his family?  Isn’t he a whore?  He prostituted his value of “Thou shalt not steal”!

And, what about the woman who marries a man that she doesn’t love, simply because he has money; Or, even worse, the woman who goes out with a man (“sugar daddy”), exchanging sexual favours for pretty clothes and expensive gifts, or political or career favours.  Aren’t they whores as well?

What about the man who sells his soul to the “devil” by stepping on others and destroying the lives of others simply to promote his own career.  Isn’t he a whore, too?

What about the politicians who take kick-backs for allowing things that they KNOW are not good for the people or the country as a whole?  Aren’t they whores as well?

What about Big Pharma, that sold its soul to the devil a long time ago, destroying any evidence of cures, in order to produce treatments that only treat the symptoms, whilst keeping people sick so that they can make more profits?  Aren’t they whores as well?

What about the Soda industry that knowingly puts harmful artificial sweeteners in their diet drinks, which are now linked to Type2 Diabetes and a plethora of other maladies?  And, what about the Soda industry that knowing puts the toxin Brominated Vegetable Oil (BVO) in their citrus flavoured drinks, causing pancreatitis and possibly a plethora of other maladies?  Aren’t they whores as well?

Don’t even get me started on MSG (Monosodium glutamate)!

The FDA (Food and Drug Administration) is probably the biggest whore of all, taking kick-backs to allow substances that are known to cause illness into our food supply.

Oh, the whoredoms of our society!  And for what?  Money? Power? Prestige? Wealth?  Those dancers that I met do what they do to support themselves and their families, without causing harm to others.  The clients participate willingly, knowing full well the possible repercussions of their actions.  There is no hidden agendas, no ulterior motives, no falsified research, no kick-backs, no jacking up the prices (as clients tip whatever they want).  It is all above board, in the open, for all to see.

The Taliban (and some other Muslim men) will not allow their wives to expose their flesh (except hands) in public, but think it okay to steal young girls off the street and force them to marry them, and then rape them.  Oh, my God!  What whores!

Some Christian Preachers will preach a gospel that they have no faith in themselves for so-called “tithes” and “offerings” that line their toilet seats with gold, and pay for estates and limousines, while their brothers and sisters starve and rot away from disease or prison.  Oh, what whores!

Some new-age propagandists sell new-age propaganda to buy expensive horses, build ranches, and estates that make me sick, while ignoring the poor and needy of society.  Oh, what whores!

One of the greatest teachers of all time (whether fictional or real, I know not, and I don’t care) said, “The harlots and publicans go into heaven before you [hypocrites].”

Why?  I’ll tell you why.  It’s because most harlots (not all) do what they do out of necessity, or to better the lives of their loved-ones).

Let’s just stop and think for a minute:  Who is the greatest whore?

And what about us normal-every-day blokes and sheilas?  Are we so pure and righteous that we can judge properly?

We tend to condemn the pick-pocket, who doesn’t have a pot to piss in, whilst we illegally download music and movies onto our electronic devices.  We likewise condemn the goer to exotic dancing establishments, whilst we watch our porn on our computers or fornicate simply for the fun of it.

Condemn me if you wish, at your own peril.  It’s no skin off my back.

But, the point of this article is this:

While I can appreciate the position that most of those dancers are in, and why they do what they do, it still makes me sick to see married, middle-aged men groping young women and the young women pretending that they like it.  I’ve had sex with many a prostitute (where it was legal, mind you) and none of them pretended that they liked it.  Do what you’ve got to do to survive, but don’t deceive me by pretending that you like my hands all over you.  Don’t grab my hands and put them on your breasts or buttocks if you don’t like it.  That’s just too weird for me to handle.  I can’t take it any more.

I’ll probably be back next weekend, though.  The compulsion to find out why that one dancer wants to be my table girl, and why she works there may be too much for me to resist.  It’s the human need to know, I guess.  I need to brush up on my Mongolian, though.

Perhaps there will be a sequel to this article.

Go figure.