Sunday, March 26, 2017

Girls, girls, girls.

Last year I ran into an acquaintance in the Phnom Penh airport, someone I met when I first moved to Saigon but hadn't seen in a while. He makes regular trips to Cambodia as he's in the midst of setting up an English school. We small talked a bit, then at parting he mentioned he wanted to talk to me about a "lucrative deal" he had in the works that I may want to be a part of. 


An email came a few days later, and he explained that he was looking for silent partners to help him buy an existing operating bar in the central backpacking/beer drinking area of Phnom Penh. He broke down the costs. Utilities. Taxes. Alcohol. How much money the current bar takes in a month. Salary for a Western gentleman to manage the place. Payments (read: bribes) for local government officials. Renovations for a couple of apartments above the bar, and salaries for 23 "girls"... and it finally dawned on my pea brain that he wanted me to be part owner of a brothel.

The closing sentence in his email stated how he was looking for like-minded souls looking for a bit of adventure. Amused, I politely declined. Can you imagine? Ms. Tart, Brothel Owner. My parents would be so proud. 


Fast forward to this week, when I found out his marriage is on the rocks because his third wife (a stunningly beautiful Vietnamese woman half his age, also mother of two of his children) caught him having affairs with several prostitutes in Cambodia. 


I'm still a bit confused that he thinks I'm a like-minded soul. Looking for adventure? Sure... but not that kind of adventure. 







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