The Truth Shall Set You Free – once you figure out which truth

Last month’s installment of Pillow Talk, “Meeting Decent Ladies” examined some of the strategies, cautions and pitfalls of approaching the area’s beguiling beauties. This week, we will look at the issue from the perspective of one who should know better yet still found himself in the dark, spiraling morass of his own self delusion. We will look at his attempt at redemption where he finds himself a tad further down the road to happy healthy companionship and explore the reasons he still sits alone with a plate of Pad Kapaow, a lighter wallet and a heavier heart.

A bit of background

Having lived in the area for several years and resided in the Kingdom for several before that, I had found myself moving to the skeptical side of the love equation. While not an embittered cynic to the possibility of sincerity, certainly a cautious creature in the course of courtship. It was I who warned friends of the all too common scenario of falling in love on your second meeting, planning a family, having your new love’s name tattooed across your back only to find yourself back in Belgium paying for an apartment for her and her (probably more appropriate) full time man all the while suffering the derision of your family and friends as you shout to the heavens “No! This one is different!”

Imagine the surprise to my family and friends when I found myself not in Belgium, but in her apartment, paid for in foreign currency from afar. Yes dear readers, she was and is different. I did not meet her in a bar, I was never asked for money (but everything comes with a price no matter where you are) and I knew a visit from this “Bank of Belgium” was inevitable throughout. I saw the portraits of them in traditional Thai dress, wedding gowns and weekends away at the islands not so carefully hidden in the closet when we stayed in her room. I shouldered the pain when the phone would ring and I would be left alone at a table, staring at a sunset or even (one time) in a mid morning snuggle. Should I have run then? Should I have listened to my brain? Should I have listened to my friends? Probably, but I did not. I listened to my heart, and I was in love.

Define a “Decent Lady” as mentioned in Last Month’s story. For me, the orbit around which this solar system of the senses spins is simple to most from the West; the truth. All relationships, plutonic, business and those of the heart must begin from this simple premise without which there can be no trust. This love of my life listed in the lines above informed me from the first of her entanglement with the tattooed cash dispenser. She prefaced this admission with her love, commitment and passion for your humble (and none to perceptive) narrator. All she asked is that during his month long visits, I disappear, not ring and ignore them should we find ourselves in the same place at the same time. Though this strategy works for many, I could no more do this than deny my feelings for this young lady.

I knew where I stood, I knew the risks and I thought I knew the rewards. My point is this; I was never lied to (in the local sense of the term), I was told the truth (or at least a local interpretation of it). And this, my dear readers, is all I have ever asked for, the truth, or the truth as I understood it.

Truth – the greatest lie

The truth, as defined among many cultures whose sense of propriety is based on shame rather than guilt or face rather than confrontation differs from what we may be used to at home, and this is just as true of “decent” women as of those whose priorities lie less in companionship based on love and trust; although this can be difficult to determine by even the most adept observer (see above).

For example, the concept of a “white lie” as one designed and deployed to save feelings from being hurt is seen as a legitimate mechanism of maturity rather than a Machiavellian manipulation of misdirected meaning. Whereas many of us believe honesty to be a static concept (one either tells the truth or one is not telling the truth), the reader can clearly deduce from the story above that the local concept of truth is fluid and directly related to the avoidance of discomfort, conflict and confrontation. This idea is further illustrated by the all pervasive catch phrase “Up to you” which is translated as “I have no interest in participating in your proposed activity, but will play along in order to avoid any uncomfortable discussions.”

Now, let us return to our original topic and pick up from last month’s Pillow Talk subject, the decent ladies. We learned last month that yes, they are abundant in our fair community as they are everywhere. We learned very sensible and respectful ways to approach them with sensitivity and good manners. We even learned strategies to gain some insight into their feelings during the courtship ritual. But without an understanding of, and a healthy flexibility to local interpretations of truth, many of us will mistake the decent young lady for one of her less than virtuous sisters.

At best, honesty and truth in this context may be equated with monogamy and at worst with helping your bank account go on a diet, but unless you are a fluent Thai speaking private investigator (of which there are several around) you will be hard pressed to make this distinction given the subtlety of your virtuous vixen. Do not expect direct replies to direct questions. Prepare to be perplexed while pondering investigative pursuits. Do not be surprised when the woman who has won your love, challenged your intellect and stolen your heart has a perspective on what you need to know about her life that does not match what you would like to know about her life. Alas, a thick skin, a strong sense of self confidence and a heart made of Teflon are your best defenses against heartbreak, and ironically, your best allies in catching the heart of a fair maiden.

Redemption? – the saga continues

Armed with the knowledge and clarity of vision which only a broken heart can teach, my mission was clear, learn from my mistakes and set out to find a woman whose concept of the truth eclipsed my singular version of honesty. My eyes now open, my skin now thickened I set out.
Khun Lart (name changed to protect the devious) met all of the criteria careful readers will remember from last month’s Pattaya Traveller, and exceeded the expectations I had established for myself. Long, dynamic lunch time chats at the Starbucks near the bank where she works, ice creams on the beach at sunset and animated movies, of which I had no interest, followed. We spoke of her education, aspirations and exasperations. We had even begun to form some rough weekend away plans. I had found her, an honest, hard working, independent and intelligent woman.

The weeks passed and following many very innocent, non threatening meetings, she agreed to come over for dinner the following Saturday. In perhaps an overly sensitive display of manners, I invited a close friend and his Thai wife to join us in an attempt to put her at ease as well as to introduce this new romantic interest of mine. As we ate, drank and chatted I noticed Khun Lart regularly looking at her watch, the first warning sign I had in weeks that all was not what it seemed. When I politely asked if she was running late, or was in a hurry to be someplace the response was startling, but given my recent history, hardly surprising. “I have early flight tomorrow morning, I go to Australia. Come back in one month.” When asked why I was lead down a path of great expectations (or should I say self delusional assumptions) I was unsurprisingly met with this unflappable logic; “I never lie to you, you never ask if I go to Australia.” She was right I never had. Nor had I asked about the “ex” boyfriend she would be visiting, the jobs she would be interviewing with or the post graduate programs she would be applying for while on her hiatus in the Southern Hemisphere. Her concept of the truth proved, much to my dismay, to again differ from my own.

Khun Lart is a decent lady. She is a good woman. In her mind she did not mislead, distort or hide the truth in any way which could be construed as dishonest. One could hope that as mutual feelings grew between us, as the day neared or merely as a simple topic of conversation, this critical intervention in our communion would have been brought to light. As she shivers in Melbourne, I pen these words of experience; ask the questions you want to know, but do not expect the answer you would like to have.

Conclusion

I do not mean to dwell in the pathos which I have clearly brought upon myself, nor do I mean to imply there is no truth, honesty or sincerity among the fairer sex in our fine community. I simply wish to manage expectations and hope others will learn from my well intentioned yet clumsy and naive desire to be with an honest woman. My heart still calls for love yet my ethics cry for honesty.

To hammer the old cliché again, we are guests in someone else’s culture and must be sensitive to the ways of this beautiful land. It is essential to recognize and understand that many of the assumptions we have been brought up with and told are universal truths are, quite simply, not. To all of this I agree and am the first to go the extra kilometer to be a shining example of just how good a guest my pale skinned brothers and I can be. However, and there is always a however, I am unable to redefine my concept of the truth. Perhaps this fatal flaw fuels the futility of my fertility. Perhaps my inability to accept a white lie as anything other than not true is the reason for this lonely lunch of Pad Kapaow. But just as I believe human beings are inherently good, and that warm weather is better than cold, I have to, for the sake of my own sanity and morals, believe that the truth is a universal solid; a concept conceived on candor and common respect. I am done preaching.