I have been searching for the words since I arrived here on
how to describe this place. Dirty, oppressive, perverted, and just flat
out evil have all come to mind. Pattaya, Thailand, a beautiful coastal
city, is completely infiltrated with sex tourists. Never heard of this
phrase before? Ya, me neither…until coming to Asia. Simply put, this
city thrives on foreign men coming here to seek pleasure from young
Thai women.
It’s EVERYWHERE.  Walking down the street is one of the hardest
things I have ever done. There is a constant urge inside of me to grab
hold of each one of these men, holding the hand of a young prostitute,
and just SHAKE them.  I want to ask them WHY?  WHY take the LIFE out of
these girls? WHY are you not home with your wife and children? WHY pay
to use some one else’s body?
 
       Seeing these girls selling their bodies to men twice their
age has evoked a feeling inside me that I have NEVER felt
before…complete and utter DISGUST. Being here just makes you
nauseous. There is no escape from it in this place. We walk out of our
hotel room to see “Lady boys” with their clients. Even sitting here at
Starbucks right now, a usual safe haven, I am surrounded by beautiful
Thai women and their MUCH older “clients.”
     
 
       After being here for a few days, I still feel disgusted no
doubt, but a feeling of pity has crept in as well. I PITY these men and
what they are searching for. Don’t get me wrong, MANY of these guys are
here to seek quick pleasure, but there is also a population here that
is LONELY and searching for companionship. They are turned down by
women in their own country, so they travel thousands of miles to
Pattaya, where for a small price, they can feel loved and wanted, if
only for a short while.
 
      To put it simply, these men are empty. There is Jesus shaped
hole in their heart and they fill it up with women they pay for. My
heart breaks not only for these women who think this is the only way to
survive, but also for the men who need much MORE than a prostitute can
ever fulfill.
 
   

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