Dear Hillary,
I have just been watching some poor bloke’s tale of woe on Facebook. Came out here, met the girl of his dreams in the bar. Shacked up together, wedding in the village, then blew all his savings building a home for her (and her family) and a pig farm. Money started to run short, the missus gives him short shrift and he has to return to the UK penniless. And he wonders how this can happen. There’s one born every minute as they say.
Rufus
Dear Rufus,
There certainly is one born every minute, and it seems that at least 50 percent of them catch a plane to Bangkok where they meet the girl of their dreams, get married in the village, build the house, with or without pig farm and settle down into an alcohol fuzz, lost in a foreign culture which they will never understand. You have to feel sorry for them.
The culture here is so different from their own culture in the UK, USA, Europe, Australia, and without language skills they will never be able to bridge the great divide. Many people have tried to warn these star struck chaps, point them to books like Stephen Leather’s Private Dancer, counsel them, but to no avail. “This one’s different” is mentioned all the time as they go into the second and third relationship. Like lemmings they all rush over the matrimonial cliff together and end up sitting outside the local convenience store drinking cheap beer from 10 in the morning. A far cry from their initial thoughts of going back home with the beautiful trophy bride on the arm and show off in front of family and friends.
However, if you read this column regularly, you will find that there are some relationships that do work, but Hillary’s experience is there’s far more heart breaks than celebrations.
So what are you going to do, Rufus? I am doing my bit, now it’s time for you to join the warning party!
