Every expat in Pattaya eventually goes through the “I beat the system” phase. It’s a beautiful, naive period where you look at the chaotic, transactional dating market around you and confidently think: “Well, those guys are idiots. But my girl? She’s different.”
Meet Gary. Gary is 44, a digital marketer who just signed a one-year lease on a nice one-bedroom condo in Naklua. For the last two months, Gary has been exclusively dating Fon. Fon is 26, works at a quiet coffee shop, doesn’t drink tequila shots, and always insists on making him breakfast. She has essentially moved in. Her toothbrush is in his bathroom. Her collection of 15 different whitening creams is on his shelf.
Gary is happy. Gary has won.
Yesterday, to celebrate their two-month anniversary, Gary took Fon to a high-end seafood restaurant on the beach at sunset. It was magical. It was also exhausting, because Gary had to perform his primary duty: being the unpaid Instagram Boyfriend.
“No, baby, the lighting is wrong. Move the cocktail glass to the left,” Fon instructed.
“Take it from lower down, my legs look short.”
“Wait, let me fix my hair. Okay, take 10 more.”
Gary snapping exactly 74 photos until Fon finally reviewed the gallery, selected one, and declared it “perfect.” They held hands. They ate oysters. Gary felt a profound sense of connection.
That night, sitting on his sofa while Fon was taking a shower, Gary made a monumental, noble decision. He unlocked his iPhone, found the Tinder icon, and long-pressed it until all the apps started jiggling.
Delete App.
Are you sure?
Yes.
Gary smiled. He was a retired man now. Off the market. A one-woman guy.
Fast forward to Tuesday night. Fon tells Gary she is going to her sister’s room in Jomtien to help her pack some boxes and will stay the night. “Miss you already, baby,” she texts him, complete with three heart emojis.
Gary has the condo to himself. He cracks open a cold Leo, opens his MacBook, and prepares to watch some Netflix.
But Gary is a digital marketer, meaning his browser currently has 118 tabs open. As he searches for Netflix, his cursor hovers over a familiar pink flame icon. Tinder Web.
Gary suddenly realizes a fundamental flaw in his grand romantic gesture: deleting the app from your phone doesn’t delete your profile from the database. He needs to log in and permanently delete his account. It’s the right thing to do.
He clicks the tab. He navigates to settings. But then, human nature takes the wheel.
“Well,” Gary thinks, taking a sip of his beer. “I’m already here. Let’s just take one last look at the local ecosystem before I nuke the account. Just a quick farewell tour.”
He clicks back to the main screen.
He swipes left on a girl standing in front of a Honda Click.
He swipes left on a girl heavily filtered into an anime character.
He swipes left on a girl whose profile is just a QR code to her Line account.
Swipe four.
Gary stops breathing. The cold Leo halfway to his mouth freezes in mid-air.
It’s Fon.
A green dot pulses next to her name. Active recently.
Gary’s brain scrambles to find a rational explanation. Maybe it’s an old profile? Maybe she forgot to delete it too?
And then, his eyes focus on the main profile picture. It hits him like a Muay Thai knee to the ribs.
It’s the photo. The photo.
The one from the seafood restaurant. Yesterday.
The one he squatted for. The one he adjusted the cocktail glass for.
With trembling fingers, Gary zooms in on the image on his high-resolution Retina display. There, perfectly reflected in the curved glass of the restaurant’s window behind her, is a blurry, distorted reflection of a man in a polo shirt squatting like an idiot with a phone.
It’s him. He is literally in the picture. He took the high-quality, golden-hour photo that his “exclusive” girlfriend is now using to source his potential replacement.
Numb, completely devoid of emotion, Gary scrolls down to read the bio she had written.
“Single. Good heart only. Looking for a serious relationship to build a future together. No playboys or time wasters please! 🙏✨”
Gary doesn’t smash the laptop. He doesn’t call her to scream. He has lived in Thailand long enough to know the rules of the game. He simply exhales, slowly closes the MacBook, walks out onto the Naklua balcony, and looks out at the blinking neon lights of the city.
The Pattaya ecosystem remains undefeated.
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