Reader Discretion Is Advised

You were warned.

First, do you know what a 'sexpat' is? Educate yourself:

Ok, are we good to continue?

On Christmas night, two friends and I walked into a bar in District 1 to have a beer and play a game of pool. This was maybe not the most traditional activity for Christmas night, but at least we had each other. I was the last to arrive at the pool table on the third floor of this bar because I had been distracted somewhere en route. When I walked up the stairs I was handed a pool stick and introduced to my teammate: a random guy in the bar. His name was Leonardo.

He was an Italian pilot with a soft, high-pitched voice. He wore all black, including finger-less gloves like Ash Ketchem from Pokémon. This guy basically looked like a tall, creepier William Dafoe.

As creepy as that was, I'm a cordial guy, so I started talking to him. The conversation was going well until he leaned in close to me and gestured to a small Vietnamese girl who worked at the bar sitting uncomfortably in the corner.

“She’s pretty hot, huh?” he said in a high whisper.

I looked at her shift awkwardly in her chair.

“I don’t know man, she’s okay.”

We shot another round of pool.

After the next round of pool, he came back over to me. He leaned in close as if he was going to disclose a state secret to me. I turned my head. He was leaning into my ear now, even though I was facing away.

He whispered a lot of information to me. I couldn’t quite understand all of it, but I knew that he was trying to explain to me what drinks I should buy her and in what order. Sadly, I don’t remember what his drinks of choice were, but they were very specific. He explained his reasoning behind each drink and how they tended to affect behavior. I politely tried to brush him off to my friend but apparently his mind was made up that I needed to be the one to buy her these drinks.

It was my turn to shoot again so we hit pause on that conversation.


He persisted. Finally I told him that I have a girlfriend and that I was not looking for that kind of thing. I saw his gears turn. He decided to tell me a story. I’ll fast forward through his weird, high-pitched preamble to the main event of this story.

He leaned in close, speaking very softly. “Last night my friend and I were fucking her together. We fucked her from 3am to 11am. That’s eight hours, man. And she still wanted more. After eight hours. Can you believe that?”

My eyebrows rose. The Vietnamese girl in question fidgeted uncomfortably by the wall.

“Um… wow. Thanks for the info.”

We played another round of pool.

He came back to me very quickly this time, his spidery hands holding a warm beer and his pool stick.

“I want that again tonight. But she is angry with me. If I can get her drunk though, then it will work.” His voice shrank even softer now. “I cannot be the one to buy her the drinks though. If I buy them, she will not drink them. But if you buy them then she will be happy and drink them. And then –“

I cut him off. “Dude, don’t involve me your shit!” I said in a loud voice.

He looked at me with puppy dog eyes. "Come on man... It's Christmas" he said with a sad shrug.

I had to laugh. In spite of all his nastiness, that really got me. Especially with the Italian accent. Lolz.

I walked back to the table to make my next shot. I missed it. When I looked up I noticed an older, heavier man with white hair and a Hawaiian shirt yelling at another small, unhappy looking Vietnamese woman.

"Ahhh, now I understand," I though to myself. "This is a sexpat bar.”

We finished our game of pool and left. For the rest of the game our new pal Leonardo kept to himself on the other side of the table. 

Merry Christmas?