The week I spent in Patong was possibly one of the most emotional I’d ever had the dubious pleasure of experiencing. At the root of my problems were my attempts at trying to understand Patong girls.
I met the girl of my dreams in a nice little bar in the middle of Patong town. Me and my buddies went into the bar to get a beer and there she was, sat at the bar. She had a fabulous figure, fantastic smile, wonderful, wonderful eyes. I knew she was special from the start. She was sat on her own and was smiling at me from the moment I went through the door. I had, until that point, made no attempt at trying to understand Patong girls.
After a while she approached me – when does that happen in the Western world? Not enough, that’s for sure! – and invited me to a game of Connect-4. She loved playing, apparently, and one thing I now know when trying to understand Patong girls was that they loved these little games.
We played and I won easily; great fun and so lovely to hear her laugh. She liked me.
6 games later I was down 5 games to 1 and, ultimately, 5 very, very expensive drinks (which she never seemed to actually get). I agreed to meet her there the next night but she was playing connect 4 with another man. Shattered to the core, I went home, none the wiser from my attempts at trying to understand Patong girls.
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