The DJ was playing an insipid boy band tune, which was the perfect background music for our argument about the merits of our marital status. His girlfriend of the moment, a student from wasn’t far off the beam. He didn’t have to shell out any money other than for sexy lingerie.
My girlfriend was the mother of my loving daughter. I could have hired four bodyguards for what a family cost me and said, “You may be single, but I’m not married.”
An Aussie army vet was fed up with our banter and said, “Both of you are over 40 and never been married?”
“What’s being married got to do with anything?”
“Because both you idiots have nothing to complain about?” The Aussie was 65. His gut attested to his dedicated drinking.
We knew he had fought in Vietnam and Indonesia. Both of us liked him.
“Who was complaining?” Nick protested with a scrunched forehead. “You’re not married either.”
“Of course I’m not married and I’ll tell you why.” The Aussie signaled the girl behind the bar for a round on him. “I had a mate. A fellow Aussie like myself.”
“A convict.” Nick couldn't resist the dig, but the old geezer had a perfect come-back.
“Better than being a Pommie bastard. Cheers.” We toasted him and he lit up a cigarette. “I first came out here in 1969 with Pat, a mate of mine. We were both in Vietnam. Army. We had a great time; girls, booze, and a beach. Couldn’t ask for anymore. We would have stayed here forever, but didn’t want to be considered peaceniks, plus we had wives. Both of us knew after being here that would last forever and about ten years ago we got divorced. Wives hated us and I couldn’t blame them. We retire from the Army and moved here. Far from our exs. We swore never to fall in love. We had had it with being suckers for women. We knew the score here. Same as Oz. All the women were out for your money or blood.”
“Where this going?” Nick had a date with his girlfriend and he had a new flimsy undergarment for her. If I was lucky he would show me the cell phone photos later.
“That’s what I hate about you young people. No patience.”
“I’m not young.” I stopped being young after 40.
“You’re younger than me.” He was old enough to have danced the Twist. “Like I said my mate swore not to get involved, but he met a lovely woman. Had an angel’s smile, was about a third of his age, and danced at the Tahitian Queen.”
The mention of that bar brought out a groan. I had met my first Thai girlfriend there and she was a demoness. I had been elected #1 sucker of 2001 by my friends and there was no way his mate’s story could be worse than mine. I was wrong.
“Pat decides to get married. I tried to talk him out of it. He wasn’t listening to reason.”
“Maybe she gave him a love potion.” Mine had. Weird thing love potions stick with you a long time. I still think about my poisoner. Mostly bad thoughts. “She was from Isaan.”
"Yeah, it would be the first time." The northeastern plateau was renowned for magic. ” Pat decides to make this a wedding to remember. He hires a hall in the Royal Cliffs. Brings down the family from the rice paddies. Dresses them up. Puts on a feed. Everyone eats like they’d been starving for years. Everyone is happy. He retires to the wedding suite a happy man. In the morning he wakes and his wife isn’t there. Her clothing. Her gold. Her clothing is, but not his lovely bride.”
“Let me guess.” Having been burnt I had a good idea where this was heading.
“If you don’t mind, I’ll tell the story.” He sipped at his rum and coke. “Pat goes to the hotel staff. They haven’t seen her. At least that’s what they say. He goes to the police, thinking she might have gone for a midnight swim. They laugh and say she’ll come in with the tide. He returns to the hotel. The family has decamped. He calls his only friend. Me. He goes on a woman hunt. We go to the Tahitian Queen. No one knows nothing and saying less. A week passes. Pat is beside himself. Then one night the hotel door opens and in walks his bride.” Pat’s so happy to see her, he almost doesn’t ask where she’s been, although she’s wearing 5 baht of gold. His bride confesses that an old boyfriend called on their wedding night. “I go with him one week. He pay for everything. Now have 5 baht gold. Good idea. Now we go on honeymoon.”
“I would have killed her.” Nick had no time for fools.
“Not Pat. He went on holiday with her. Came back, stole her gold, and went to live in Phuket.”
“Her name wasn’t Mem?” I had to ask.
“No. Why?”
“Just asking.” I was happy to have escape Mem’s madness.
“Well, now you know why I don’t get married.”
“Same goes for us.”
Nick bought the next round. I got the next. We drank ourselves into a state of blissful beerdom, which is where every man should live worldwide.
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