Philippines is a magical place for a white guy. As soon as you step off the plane, you are tall, rich, handsome and your dick is bigger.

Back in 2012 I didn’t realise I was at the very peak of my SMV. I was 36-year-old guy in the best shape of my life after five years of crossfitting, no grey hair and a successful business under my belt.

And in Philippines it all gets multiplied tenfold.

Suddenly I was a prize. Suddenly women of all ages were giving me IOIs so obvious a blind man would notice (and I was that blind man at a time). Suddenly I started to get a tingling feeling that I might have more value that I ascribed to myself.

Me and T. had one night remaining before catching a plane back to Australia and T. suggested we go to a go-go bar for some drinks. We picked Arena KTV – the biggest, most expensive and the dodgiest go-go bar in North Reclamation Area we were promised had all the hottest girls Cebu had to offer.

Arena KTV Lounge

Let me tell you a little bit about go-go bars (also called KTV or bikini bars) in Cebu. This is strictly how it works in this city and it is different in Manila. The closest Western equivalent is a strip club with two major differences. Firstly, there is no stripping. Girls are wearing bikinis. And secondly, it’s a whore house.

Officially prostitution is illegal in Philippines but the government turns the blind eye because they know if they crack down, the families are going to starve. However, they impose some regulations and the girls in go-go bars have to do weekly STD tests, which puts them one step above the street walkers.

Some go-go bars, and Arena is one of them, have a cover charge of 10 dollars or close but the majority is free to go to. As you walk in, you sit on a couch or at the bar and watch girls’ lame attempts at pole dancing. Drinks are usually more expensive comparing to normal bars.

After that you have two options. You can either call a mamasan (an older woman who manages the girls) and tell her which girl you like or you can call for a line-up. Actually no, you have a third option. You can finish your drink and leave.

Line-up is a very weird experience if you never done it before. Basically, all the girls in the bar come to your couch and line up so you could pick your lady of the night. Then she stays with you and the rest go back to their dancing routine. After this, it’s the same as if you asked a mamasan for a girl.

Next step in this ritual is to buy girl a “lady drink” or two and shoot shit with her to see if you want to bang her or not. “Lady drink” is usually a tequila shot and it cost double of the normal drink or more because a girl makes a commission on a sale.

If you decide to bang a girl, you pay a “bar fine”. In Cebu bar fine is all-inclusive. This means you pay to take a girl out of the bar and do whatever activities you want to do (go to a nightclub and hang out, for example) and then bang her. After that she can stay or leave. Up to a girl. You can take her number and arrange a private deal later but she can get in trouble with the mamasan if they find out.

If you decide to give it a miss, you can do another line-up and pick another girl. Or bugger off to another go-go bar or whatever.

There is a whole school of gaming pros in Philippines called “shoring”. It means gaming and banging hookers for free. I’ve never done it but you can certainly buy a “lady drink” and, then, secretly slip your number to a girl. She will text you, trust me. Do it in every go-go bar on the street and you have a solid number farm. Just don’t get caught.

Arena didn’t have a line-up. There were too many girls, way too many. And they were all hot. The promise of the hottest girls in Cebu was fulfilled. They were standing all around the area, near the bar looking pretty. In the middle of the room there was a podium that looked like a fashion show podium where girls were going one by one in bikini to show off their goodies. Girls not on a stage were dressed in sexy outfits but weren’t half naked.

T. quickly picked his girl at the bar and we sat on a couch. Drinks started to pour when I saw a tall skinny girl with the body to die for on a podium. I called a staff member and pointer my finger, “Her!”

No picture, because hookers don't count

After settling the bar tab and bar fines we jump into a taxi to the hotel on Mactan Island we booked for the last night. It had a nice outdoor bar area. T. started a bar tab and we were drinking and chatting with the girls. Oh, boy. The one I picked was so hot… and so dumb. Her go-to phrase was “Oh… OK.”

In the middle of our drinking session the car had arrived and two girls in bikinis came out. They looked like supermodels from the magazine page. They immediately jumped into jacuzzi and started to shoot selfies and pictures of each other.

In a few minutes a motorboat had arrived to the shore. Bar staff loaded a few boxes of alcohol and two jacuzzi chicks jumped right in. And then, in the dark, we noticed a huge yacht anchored near the beach. The motorboat headed towards the yacht.

T. asked the waitress, “Do you know who is this?”

“It is a friend of the owner, sir”

We finished our drinks and went to our rooms to bang girls.

The sex was uninspiring. I couldn’t finish in condom so I said I was going to take it off.

“Oh… OK,” she replied.

I pulled out and finished on her belly. She took a shower and left promptly.

I was falling down fast. Now I banged a hooker.

In a plane back to Sydney I was freaking out. Can T. keep a secret? What if I got STD? What if, what if, what if.

None of that was going to happened. Instead I slipped backed into my ignorant blue pilled bliss for another three years.

To be continued…