…continued from my last article, entitled, “Sex in Mongolia”…
Apparently, my last article created quite a stir here in Mongolia, as an acquaintance of mine posted it on some infamous facebook group, called, “Exapts in Mongolia,” without telling me first. It’s not that I minded the publicity, but the reactions of group members were a bit surprising to me. It seems that everyone missed the whole point of my article, which of course was the treatment of women in the “sex” industry and my reactions to it. I don’t have a facebook account, as I’m afraid of my identity being stolen….again. So, I have to rely upon what my friend told me about the reactions to my previous article.
Apparently, it created embarrassment amongst the locals about what is happening in their country. So, let me be very clear about something: sex happens in every country in the world. It is a powerful human drive, and has resulted in 7+ billion viable offspring. And, according to the World Health Organization (WHO) it results in more than one million sexually transmitted infections (STI) and 125,000 abortions every day, worldwide! So, Mongolian is not alone when it comes to sex. Every country has its underground or aboveground sex industry. In South Korea it is aboveground and legal, as it is considered a “necessary evil” there. Perhaps it is.
As far as expat comments go, it was reported to me that they claimed there wasn’t enough sex in my previous article, some even going so far as to say that it wasn’t about sex at all. Did they read the whole article? I wonder. If so, do they not understand that there are different kinds of sex besides coital sex?
Honestly, I could go into various second-hand and third-hand accounts of coital sex in Mongolia and the repercussions thereof, but that’s not the focus of this particular article. This article is to continue the soap opera of my love life….my coital-free love life.
I call it my “love life”, because I honestly love all the women I’ve had encounters with. Whether they love me back is another question. Certainly, they trust me and they tell me things that they wouldn’t dare tell anybody else.
It was previously (and laboriously to some readers) related why I have chosen the celibate lifestyle, some calling me “self-serving” in doing so. Thus, I will not repeat or belabour the point. Suffice it to say that my celibacy does not prohibit me from so-called “dry humps” or “lap dances”. Moreover, it does in no way put a wall around my heart. I have emotions like any other red-blooded human being. And speaking of emotions, this past weekend has been quite an emotional roller coaster for me.
Picking up where I left off, there was this one particular dancer, who was pining every time I went there to be my “table girl”. I finally acquiesced to her incessant requests, but our time together was too short. I did not get to find out all the answers to my questions. So, I went back there this past weekend.
This time I went early as to be sure to have plenty of time with her. To be honest, she is a gorgeous woman and I was flattered that she wanted to be with me. I really wanted to see where this might lead.
I walked in the door and paid my cover charge, called “tax” in Mongolia for some odd reason that I haven’t been able to figure out yet. She was dancing. I smiled at her. We made eye contact as I walked past her toward the bar to order a drink. She did not smile back. That was unusual. I thought, “What’s wrong?”
As I ordered my drink, I also ordered her as a table girl. When she finished her dance, she came over to sit next to me. She was not excited to see me as she had been every time previous. I was very confused.
I said, “Are you happy [to see me]?”
She put on a fake smile and said, “Yes!”
I knew she didn’t really mean it. Please excuse my language, but I was thinking, “What the hell?” I suppose I had fallen a bit for her, because that hurt. I was not prepared for that emotion. As a result, I totally forgot about my quest to find out why she wanted to be my table girl. That quest was replaced by me wondering why she didn’t want to be my table girl any more. I tried to cheer her up. Soon, she left me. She just got up and left, before my time was up. Not only did she not return to my table, but she ignored me the rest of the night. Something was definitely up. I didn’t want any more lap dances, from anybody. I just wanted to sit there and try to figure out what was going on, but every minute or two, some dancer was practically demanding to sit on my lap. The unsolicited lap dances can be annoying sometimes. They really can. Not to mention the money lost.
I actually did say, “No,” to some of the dancers. “Not right now,” but there was this one dancer who would not take “No,” for an answer. She was relentless, which I thought very, very strange. She was always very forceful, but not like this.
Last time I saw her, she said, “Tonight is my last night. I’m going to Russia to study.” I thought, “Good.”
But she was back! Why?
Her English was/is the best of all the dancers, so I said, “I thought you were going to Russia!”
“Oh, the boss asked me to work one more month.”
That also was very strange. That night there were four new dancers on the floor. They had more girls than customers! What the blank did they need her for? Then, it hit me. The excellent command of English, the forced lap dances, and…..
She was always asking me questions, like giving me the “third degree”. I had always chalked it up as mere curiosity, but this woman was checking me out.
“Come on! I just want to talk with you.” She said, while pulling arm away which was blocking her from sitting on my lap.
I finally let her sit on my lap. And that was another strange thing. She never gave lap dances; she just sat there, took her bra off and talked. She talked more and moved less than any other dancer.
“You know Mishka?” she asked.
“Yes, I know Mishka.”
Mishka was another dancer that had quit working there about four months ago. She was my favourite, and I frequently invited her to be my table girl. Everyone knew it. It was no secret. But, then suddenly, she quit.
“Why do you ask me about Mishka?” I asked.
“Is she your girl?” She asked.
I got very annoyed by that question, because it implied so many things. It implied that I was cheating on her by being there. It implied that the reason she quit was because of me. It implied that I was not the “really good customer” that the boss called me to my face (and thus had lied to my face). It implied that I was suspect of a lot of really bad stuff.
“No, she’s not my girl.” I answered in a very annoyed voice, at which point she left.
When, I left, I was both happy and depressed. You see; none of the other girls, except the one that didn’t want to be my table girl anymore and the one who forced herself upon me, were privy to what was going on. They were very lively, animated, and having a great time (mostly at my expense). It was hard not to enjoy their company (as much as I wanted to wallow in my depression). The dichotomy of dual and opposing emotions filling me to the brim was extremely wearisome. The four beers and the one tequila that I had had didn’t help either.
I went home and went to bed.
In the morning, things were very clear. And, in order for you to fully understand, you need to understand what had happened about one year ago.
It was the winter of 2013. Mishka was my regular table girl in those days. Her English wasn’t very good at first, because she didn’t know the correct pronunciation of things, but she had good command of written English, so she learned quickly.
And, by the way, “Mishka” is neither her real name nor her work name. None of the girls use their real names when they are working. I’m not even going to tell you her work name.
One day, in the winter of 2013, Mishka told me that she was going to Saipan to work as a dancer in the clubs of Saipan. I was happy for her, until she told me the details. You see: there was this guy named “Patrick” (and that is his real name). He was an American from Saipan recruiting women from the clubs in Ulaanbaatar to go work in Saipan. When she told me that, I was a little bit sceptical. Then, she said, that he wanted money from her to pay for her visa and visa processing. That made me very sceptical! I was worried for her. I told her to be careful.
Had she been going alone, I would have vehemently opposed, but in fact, there were three girls from that one particular club that were going. And, all of them gave him money, with the hopes that they would be able to make a lot of money in American Saipan.
Time passed. About a month later, my worst fears were realised. A text message came to my phone from Mishka. She had written, “I have a big problem.” There was a link to a website. I looked it up. It was a news article. The headline read, “Mongolian police arrested an American citizen charged of human trafficking.” The article said that Patrick was charged with coaxing 11 Mongolian women into going to Saipan to work as strippers and taking money from the women.
I texted a message back, “Are you at work?”
“Don’t go anywhere, I’ll be right there.”
When, I arrived, I asked her, “How much money did you give him?”
“800,000 Tugruks.” [At the time, it was approximately 600 USD.]
“What?! No visa in the world costs that much! You stupid girl!”
She was very sad and upset.
“I know.” She said. “What am I going to do? I don’t have money to pay for my next semestre’s tuition.” [In fact, she didn’t have any money at all. She had given it all to him.]
I put her head on my shoulder and said, “Don’t worry.”
I thought for a few minutes and I came up with a plan.
I broke the silence.
I said, “I can help you.”
She sat up straight and looked at me.
I added, “But, you have to help me.”
“How?” she inquired, as if to say, “How can I possibly help you?”
I said, “I will give you the money for your tuition, but you have to clean my house twice a week, until you pay off the loan.”
She thought for a minute, and then agreed.
I know what you are thinking. You are thinking that I was being stupid. She could have just taken the money and ran. But, you would be wrong. I knew that woman. She was honest. There was no doubt in my mind that she would fulfil her part of the bargain.
Long story short, I loaned her the money and she came regularly twice a week to clean my house until the loan was paid off.
The point is that the club’s owners are now very leery of foreigners in their club. Already, Mishka and few others have quit and I am their number one suspect.
I’m pretty sure that the very forceful woman, with excellent command of English works for the Mongolian government in the prevention of human-trafficking, and she is investigating me. And I’m pretty sure she told the other girl that doesn’t want to be my table girl any more to be cautious about me.
Now, it all makes sense.
On my way home from the club, I frequently walk through a park, where all the hookers hang out. I have never seen so many old, fat, and ugly hookers in my life!
They frequently ask me if I want a “massage” in my hotel room. Yeah, right! They only massage one part of the body. If I get a massage, I want a full-body massage.
Maybe I will go get a full-body massage. I could use a happy ending.
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