A/N - I bet you thought as soon as you saw Bangkok, you've thought 'Ah, I've read a few stories written by UltimateSin. He loves to write transgender stories. I bet this story will be about the sexy ladyboys of Bangkok!'
While they might be mentioned, this is just a simple romance as boy meets foreign girl... without additions.
Previous stories in this series:
Love Around the World - Andorra (Mature)
Australian / British standard English. There is a good chance of reading the following: lots of profanity, characters drinking, typos, and bad grammar at times.
Proofreading and editing suggestions provided by OhDave1. Any mistakes are still mine.
Comments are appreciated as always.
Feedback by email is always welcome. Enjoy chatting with anyone who likes my work.
*****
Divorces suck. Even when they're necessary due to the relationship irretrievably breaking down, it still sucks. You've likely spent at least a few years building your lives together only to see it all collapse in a steaming pile of shit. At least I wasn't the one to blow up my marriage. That was my dear old soon-to-be ex-wife. It was the same old story or so it seems nowadays.
We both worked hard for a living. In our mid to late thirties. Married since our late twenties. No kids as I was on the fence while she was adamant about not having any, and she took extreme precautions by getting herself sterilised so there'd be no accidents. At least it meant she didn't have to take birth control and I didn't need condoms.
I'm not going to go into details about what she did except to say it had to do with a promotion and it was with her boss. The fact she was willing to fuck him at all almost made me gag considering the guy was in his mid-fifties and clearly let himself go two decades ago. I doubt she derived any pleasure from doing it, but the smug fucker pretty much told me at her company Christmas party, and by Australia Day in January, I'd kicked her out of the house, and she'd turned tail to go live with a girlfriend.
Unfortunately, Australian law differed from other areas of the world when it came to getting a divorce. The only reason I could kick her out of the house was that it was mine and mine alone. I'd inherited it from my grandparents as a place to live as my parents owned their own place and I was an only child, my aunts and uncles also owned their own houses, their kids not old enough to take on home ownership. The house had been in our family since my great-grandfather, had been renovated numerous times over the years, and thanks to the location in Sydney, I'd had it valued more than once and a small three-bedroom house that came with land out the back was an easy seven-figure sum.
Waiting to divorce is like treading water in many ways. Forty was looming large on the horizon and I was tired of living in the rat race. Heading into work five days a week, seeing the same old faces, doing the same old thing. Sure, I was making fantastic money, an easy six figures that meant I lived comfortably, and when I'd lived with my wife, we'd had a great life together.
"What are you thinking?" Adam asked me as we shared a beer on evening, "Sounds like you're considering something, Mark."
"Honestly? I want the fuck out of here."
"Here being your job? Sydney? Australia?"
"Probably all three, to be honest."
"What's the grand plan? I know what happened with Erica still stings..."
I almost groaned. "Don't remind me. Throwing away our marriage for some crap sex and a promotion that barely earned her a bump in pay but a hell of a lot more responsibility. And I know for a fact her social life has gone down the toilet at the same time. Even friends she's had for years are keeping their distance as they think if she'll sleep around to get a shitty promotion, maybe she'll try it on with their husbands."
"How did his wife take it?"
"Oh, she kept him around from what I hear but has his balls in her purse. Surprisingly, he still works at the same office though the head honchos were aware of what happened so made sure they don't interact either personally or professionally. I think Erica was on the verge of being sacked rather than promoted, but they couldn't deny she'd met her targets and then some."
"Is she still trying to contact you?"
"She still messages me every day. I don't actually have the heart to block her because I know how she feels. I just ignore them all. I know me not replying to her hurts her even more."
I did talk to my parents about my ideas, particularly regarding selling the old house and the fact it would earn me quite a little nest egg. I didn't want anyone else's noses out of joint should I sell it. My parents insisted that my grandparents had willed the house to me therefore it was mine to do what I wanted with.
Needing something to occupy my mind while I waited for the divorce to go through, I thought 'Fuck it' and decided to completely renovate the place, keeping the outside untouched but I practically gutted the inside and turned it into a modern, functional home though ensured there were traditional touches that ensured the place kept its charm. It took months for the work to be completed, but once everything was complete, and I'd worked on the extensive backyard at the same time, I had the place assessed and was told that, should I place it for sale, I'd be looking at an easy seven figures that should have at minimum a two as the first digit.
Yeah, house prices in Sydney are ridiculous and have been for over a decade.
By the time I could apply for the divorce, a long twelve months after I'd kicked my wife out of the house, we'd actually been in communication for a couple of months as I'd never genuinely turned my love for her to hate. I knew she was hoping for a reconciliation, but I told her bluntly the first time we saw each other in months that I was prepared to talk but any hope of keeping our marriage going was off the table.
We were both at the courthouse the day our divorce was confirmed. She was incredibly upset as expected. I just felt like shit. Not because I'd hurt her. I still thought she deserved it. I just hated the fact our marriage had failed, but she'd known from the day we'd met that I would never forgive infidelity. I could forgive a lot of things in a marriage, but to me, that was a boundary that would not break.
Drowning my sorrows with a few friends later that night, Adam finally asked, "So have you got any plans?"
"Yep. Now that I'm officially divorced, or at least it's in the works until I get the official paperwork in a month, I'm selling up and fucking off."
"Europe?" Chris wondered.
"Nah, don't really have any interest there. I'm thinking more south-east Asia. Maybe head over to Vietnam to start with and decide from there. Might eventually wander over to Thailand and end up living here, to be honest."
"Ah, going to have some fun with a ladyboy?" Tom joked.
"Don't knock it until you've tried it," Scott retorted. We all looked at him, his face falling when he realised what he said, holding his hands up in innocence. "No, no, no. I've definitely not fucked a ladyboy."
"Maybe she fucked you?" Adam teased, Scott realising that he'd already lost the argument and shutting up, muttering into his beer.
"Anyway, when I sell my house, I'm going to have enough money to live on if I choose to live somewhere far more affordable. I'm nearly forty and I'm already tired of all this bullshit. I've accumulated plenty of savings as it is that I could even choose to work remotely at my leisure."
"At least Vietnam or Thailand isn't too far away," Adam stated, "Could pop in for a visit. Would you buy somewhere over there?"
"No idea. I'm just spitballing at the moment. But I wouldn't mind living somewhere different. There's a whole wide world out there and the only place I've been to is New Zealand."
I survived another year before I just packed in the job, put the house on the market and prepared to leave. My parents were aware of my plans, fully supportive that it was my life and did nothing to talk me out of it. My friends hoped I'd end up somewhere fun, so they'd have a reason to come visit me whenever possible. And when I let Erica know, despite the divorce, I knew she still had hope that something could be rekindled. Hearing that I would be leaving finally let her know that I was moving on. Although her last call was tearful on her end, I wished her well and hoped that she would find happiness with someone else. I found feeling hate and bitterness towards her was negative energy. I didn't need it.
Selling off anything in the house that wasn't nailed down, I endeavoured to leave with only a backpack full of clothes and essentials with a smaller bag that held my laptop and a few other bits. Phone in one pocket. Passport in the other. I'd been to the doctor for all the shots and vaccinations needed for visiting the region.
My parents and friends were with me the day I flew out, choosing to visit Vietnam first before making my way elsewhere, thinking I'd do a tour of what was once called Indochina. Vietnam was spectacular, taking a few weeks as I slowly journeyed from south to north before turning west into Laos and returning south, eventually entering Cambodia and finding myself in Phnom Penh. Not wanting to head straight to Bangkok, I caught a flight to the north of Thailand and continued my slow approach, enjoying plenty of time in Chiang Mai, Sukhothai, Ayutthaya and then Kanchanaburi, home of the Bridge over the River Kwai, before I finally arrived in Bangkok, certainly slimmer, fitter and with a healthy tan.
I'd put out feelers before leaving Australia, and while I was travelling, to ex-pats who lived in the city about places to live in Bangkok. I didn't want to live with other immigrants, I wanted to live with locals though wanted to retain a good standard of living. Didn't want a house, preferring an apartment in one of the many tower blocks that had sprung up around the city since the economic boom of the mid-nineties and their recovery after the economic collapse in the late nineties.
The Thai were incredibly friendly and welcoming from the moment I'd set foot in their country. And having made up my mind long ago that I would make Thailand my new home. I'd spent at least two years studying Thai, not just speaking but reading and writing it too. The script was completely foreign and that alone took months of study to slowly but surely figure out. Speaking wasn't an issue as there is a large Thai community in Sydney who were more than willing to teach me.
May or may not have scored more than one date with a pretty Thai girl at the same time.
Choosing to reside in a hotel while finding the right place to live, I also had to figure out if I wanted to just spend my days lazing about. Enquiring at the desk about my situation led to numerous suggestions. I was told that teaching English would be the best avenue for making a little money though the pay would usually be a pittance. It would help me integrate with the locals, particularly once I was able to easily converse with them in Thai on a daily basis.
Earned pretty smiles from girls behind desks or counters when I showed off that I could speak the language.
"Are you here on holiday?" a man asked as I sat at the hotel bar one evening. I was already a regular face, not missing the fact it was always a woman serving me rather than the friendly guy who would serve me a beer first.
"Nah."
"Work?"
"Not that either. I'm just living here until I've got my living situation sorted."
"Ah, you're another one," he stated with amusement.
"What's that?"
