Around the World in 80 Girls: The Epic 3 Year Trip of a Backpacking Casanova

by Neil Skywalker

Langkawi is a tourist destination but also a fairly small island without much in the way of police. I didn’t have a local phone card and barely knew anyone on the island. It seemed best to let her stay the night and leave the next day to the mainland.

  The rest of the day she was sweet as a kitten and I let her pay for everything, since she still didn’t want to give me back my money. At night we watched a movie on my laptop and went to bed early. We had sex twice that night and she was desperate to please me. I felt sorry for her. I think she was shocked that I gave her so much trouble.

  We left the next day to the mainland. I paid for the ferry because she said she didn’t have money any more, a lie because she couldn’t have spent all of my 140 ringgit. We got into an argument again at the bus station because she wanted to go with me to the east coast of Malaysia. I said that was never going to happen. I paid her 12-dollar bus ticket to Kuala Lumpur, the capital of Malaysia and she had the nerve to ask me for more money. I told her no but eventually gave her a very small amount to make her shut up and she walked off cursing – she even slapped me. I wanted to slap her back but there were quite a few guys around and I thought it was safer if I didn’t hit one of their own in front of them.

  She got on the bus and I never saw her again, but a few months later she wanted to add me on Facebook and I let her. I was quite fascinated by her behavior and wanted to see how she was doing. Her big round butt and her legs had always been on the verge of being chubby and she‘s crossed that line now. She actually has some older Swiss guy as a boyfriend now and I can just imagine how this guy gets fucked over by her all the time. I still have her on my Facebook till this day and every once in a while she writes this:

  I miss you Neil.

  Malaysia – Perhentian Islands

  After I finally got rid of the she-devil Moni I took a bus ride to Kota Baru, on the east coast of Malaysia, and from there took a boat to the Perhentian islands. I didn’t realize there are no ATMs on the islands. My money supply was limited and I had to stay in a dorm room with other back-packers. Inside the dorm room I met one of the biggest nerds ever.

  He was a true omega male, the worst kind of man. He was so awkward that I just had to spend some time with this guy and figure him out. If you start learning about game and pick-up, you get more and more interested with the psychology behind it. The guy was so unwillingly funny that I can safely say that he was the weirdest, most awkward guy I had ever met. He was a Malaysian computer programmer (the prototype nerd) and had a weird name that I forgot. I’ll just call him Jack.

  The Perhentian islands are a place of unworldly beauty: the pristine clear blue water and the white coral sand beaches are amazing. I was staying on Perhentian Kecil, the smaller island. It’s famous for its budget accommodations and amazing scuba diving. The island has no central power source so everything is powered by diesel generators.

  My guesthouse wasn’t that far from the beach and I was tanning every day. At night I would go to one of the only two beach bars and sit down at a table in the sand. There are Turkish pipes for smoking and everyone was drinking Monkey Juice rum. Beers were very expensive on the island – it wasn’t a tax-free zone like the last Malaysian island I’d been on and a small can of beer cost nearly four dollars. A small bottle of Monkey Juice was sold for eight dollars and it was 25% strong liquor. Mixed with Pepsi it was delicious and a cheap way to get drunk.

  I was hanging out a bit with Jack but soon found out he was too much of a passive cock-block. He had such strange habits that he would scare most girls away. I tried to teach him some pick-up skills but it was hopeless. He would screw things up and it would rub off on me.

  During the day, I went to the beach to get a suntan. Jack came along and I truly was ashamed of him with his super skinny body. I advised him to do some weightlifting back home because no girl would ever like him like that. Apparently he understood my advice to get exercising the wrong way, because he started going for long beach runs. It was hilarious to see him run with his skinny body in thirty-eight degree temperatures. I felt sorry for the guy but he was headstrong and wouldn’t listen when I said he’d better stop running along the beach. He looked like a Malaysian version of Butthead. Same big head and big hair.

  There was a big group of hot Swedish girls on the beach and like most Swedish girls in South East Asia they were only interested in sun-tanning all day. I manned up and walked straight up to them and asked them to put some tanning oil on my back. One girl ignored me but another one, who was tanning topless, got up and put the oil on my back. I talked to her a bit and for the next few days she rubbed my back during the day but at night they were nowhere to be found.

  I asked them about it and they said they didn’t like to go out.

  The island was full of Swedish girls though, and I met the two Swedish girls I’d seen on Langkawi again. We got talking on the beach. They were there with another Swedish girl named Johanna, who had massive tits. I had to control myself to avoid looking at them all the time since all the girls were topless. All my attempts to pick up one of them failed.

  I was still in the mindset that I’d take just about anyone with me so that I didn’t have to go out alone. That has changed now, and I’m more likely to go out alone these days. Just then, though, I asked Jack to go to the beach party with me.

  Since everyone was always sitting down at tables in the sand it was kind of hard to make contact. You needed some balls to walk up to a table and ask if you could join the girls. Some attempts were more successful than others. I usually went first and introduced Jack later. I’d told him what to say and do but he screwed up everything.

  I approached two girls at a table, who happened to be Swedish also. One was a very beautiful girl with a stunning body, the other one was a fat hog. The hot one laughed at everything I said and things were going well. I asked the girls to go night swimming, since I had success with that approach in Langkawi. The hot one said yes and but the fat hog was straight up cock-blocking me. I whispered to Jack to keep the fat one busy, something a good wing would do even though he is totally not interested in her. Since I was wearing shorts, a t-shirt and flip flops I was all ready to go in to the water. The hot Swedish girl, who had dyed her hair black, went into the water with me. I did my Shark technique®, and was quickly making out with her. She took her bikini top off and I was sucking on those salty titties. She had her legs wrapped around me, my hands firmly on her round butt and we were dry-humping like crazy. Oh, dude, I thought to myself, after all this time, you’re finally going to get a Swedish flag. Sweden is always in any top three of lists of beautiful women. Usually it’s Brazil, Sweden and Russia.

  Trouble started when her swine of a girlfriend started shouting at the sea shore. “I’m cold, come out of the water, let’s go,” she was shouting to her friend. I tried to convince the hot one to stay in the water with me but the fat beast kept calling her friend. Jack just stood there with his hands to his side. The Swedish babe went out of the water and she promised she would walk her fat friend back to the hotel and come back. I couldn’t do anything more than agree and hope she would return. I walked back to the dorm room, took a quick shower to get the salty water off me, and went back to the beach.

  The Swedish girl never returned and I was waiting on the beach for her feeling like a fool. I was still quite drunk from the rum, though, and horny as hell. I saw a group of girls and heard that they were speaking French. I asked them if I could join their table. Only one of them spoke English, and she was the hottest one there. The girls came from Belgium, but from the French-speaking part and not the Dutch-speaking one. I just rambled some words and sentences I had learned in high school and ended with my classic “Voulez-vous coucher avec moi, ce soir?” Since when I used those same lines with the first Cambodian girl I met it ended in a fuck fest, why not try it again and see if it would work again?

  They laughed and gave me some more rum and we joked around a bit. They were all kind of drunk and I asked them for a swim. Two of th
em declined and left, including the cute one who spoke English. The three girls who were left wanted to swim with me. Now, they weren’t lookers but one of them had quite a sexy body. I started sharking her in the water but with my extremely limited French I didn’t hook her.

  What happened next is nothing to be proud of, but yeah, it happened. The chubbiest girl was probably turned on by my slow talking in the water because she literally grabbed my arm and pulled me towards her. Sort of a reverse Shark technique. She forced herself on me and I looked at her giant tits, which were the size of my head. I was like, There’s almost no one here, it’s dark, I’m horny and she has giant knockers.

  After some kissing she grabbed my dick and tried to insert it in her snatch. I was drunk and the water wasn’t helping. My dick was only half erect. My pride was in jeopardy. I took her by the hand and walked off to another part of the beach. The tide was still low and the water had cleared a spot between some rocks. She pushed her giant and very firm boobs in my face, their weight nearly crushed me, and she started blowing me there. Must have been weird with the salty water but it didn’t seem to bother her. We had sex between the rocks and that’s how I (shamefully) got my Belgium flag.

  When we walked back to the beach her friends were still waiting for her and started yelling angrily at her. I heard the word “affaire” so I guess she had a boyfriend or husband back home. I never saw her again and it was one of the few times I didn’t use a condom. I guess the salty water protected me or there’s a very handsome baby in Belgium now.

  I don’t think she can ever find me again. The guesthouses there don’t really keep records and she didn’t know which one I stayed at anyway. I had captured a flag but lost my dignity with this girl. Getting laid a lot is only cool when it’s with girls who look attractive, anyone can bang a whale. In my defense, yes she was chubby but not a whale. She was also still very young, so there was no cellulite blubber flapping around.

  The following days I stayed on the beach a bit during the day and reached my optimal tan. I could sit in the boiling hot sun for hours and not get sunburned anymore. I was pissed about it: I wasn’t even that dark. I don’t tan well and it always takes ages, and now I had reached my maximum.

  One amazing thing I saw there was a Dutch guy drinking a special mix after finishing his diving master license. It was a rite-to-manhood kind of thing. I hope I can explain it well enough. He had to put a diving mask with a snorkel on, and the top of the snorkel was sawed off and replaced by an upside down plastic coke bottle with the bottom cut off. Because it’s a snorkel you can’t breathe at all and have to keep drinking until the bottle is empty. They poured in two cans of coke, half of bottle of Vodka, a small bottle of Monkey Juice, a can of beer, and a large squirt of sun-block lotion. He drank all of it at once and was drunk within ten seconds. I have never seen drinking like this in my life and can only say one thing: RESPECT! Nine out of ten guys failed this test but the Dutch guy did it.

  He even went out with us to a restaurant, a large group of people were eating but he was just drunk out of his mind, throwing his chicken around the table. After an hour he fell off his chair and went to the beach to puke his guts out in the ocean and feed the fishes.

  Malaysia – Kuala Lumpur

  My time had come to move on again. I was out of money and had to take the boat back to the mainland.

  I had to take my flight out of Malaysia in the capital of Kuala Lumpur. I got a virus on my laptop after using a memory stick in the hostel’s Internet café. It was one of the only and toughest viruses I’ve ever had on one of my computers. I almost spend three whole days trying to fix it and finally gave up. In the meanwhile my credit card wouldn’t work so I couldn’t book a flight to the Phils. That took me another full day to fix. I think I called the credit card company at least five times before they figured out what was wrong.

  The prices of clubs and drinking are very high in KL, as Kuala Lumpur is called, so I didn’t bother going out and wasn’t in the mood anyway with a broken laptop. I truly hate it when it’s not working. I already had my Malay flag and it was trouble enough getting that one and living to tell the tale. So all I did was go up the famous Petronas towers and visit some malls before I got on an airplane and flew to the Philippines.

  Philippines – Manila

  The Philippines have always intrigued me. It’s a South East Asian country with a heavy Spanish influence and it’s partly Americanized as well. Back home my standard answer to the question “What do you want?” was always “A million dollars and a ticket to the Philippines”. I’ve said that for years, as if the Phils were some sort of promised land. And they are. The country is fantastic, but it took a while to realize it.

  I had planned a full itinerary and was going to stay seven weeks, including fifteen days with my Russian girlfriend Julia, who was going to visit me there. There’s only one popular guesthouse in Manila and that’s where I stayed. The place is usually packed with all kinds of backpackers, from serious hikers and bikers to the occasional girl crazy guy like me.

  One of the guys I hung out with an English guy who had traveled and worked a bit in Australia. He told me some impressive hostel stories. I always say that the amount of banging going on in hostels is truly overhyped, but that doesn’t seem to apply to the guys working in a hostel. Most of them get laid regularly with a wide range of girls. It’s an ideal job for picking up girls, because even though the job is shitty and pays next-to-nothing, you’re still kind of an authority and girls look up to you since you’re the guy pulling the strings who knows all the ins and outs in the city.

  He and I went out for a couple of games of pool and sat down in the street bars in front of the guesthouse. Now, most people would hate the area: the street is full of strip clubs and there are lots of prostitutes and child beggars around. But you get used to it very quickly and I enjoyed the company of the bar girls while drinking a beer, though I never pulled out the cash to pay for any of them. The more you drink the more you have to be careful, though, because they were some lady boys around looking for a customer too. Not that they’re all bad: befriend a lady boy and he/she will introduce you to many girls. An unusual tip but one that works very well.

  Second to Warsaw in Poland, Manila was one of the most destroyed cities during World War II, but before this, it was one of the most beautiful cities in the world, having been compared with London, Paris and Prague. Nowadays, Manila is not a very interesting city. There are few places for sightseeing and most of the churches and cathedrals are worn down. Most people hate the city and consider it poor and dirty, full of exhaust fumes. You have to look through all this, and if you have some money to spend it’s not hard to stay in a nice area of the city for thirty to forty dollars a night in a nice hotel room in Makati, the financial district of Manila. I was a traveler on a budget, so I stayed in the poor but party area of Malate.

  At night most people would sit at the giant table in the common area of the hostel and talk and drink a bit. There was a German girl who was taller than me and I’m a tall guy. She had a bit of a husky build but she had giant hooters.

  I had ignored her and her big titties all the time since I had read in a game/pick-up book that this was a good technique. When I was making jokes with the guys about having sex with so many girls on my trip I already made sure that she heard parts of it. When I finally got talking to her she already knew I was some kind of a player and later that night when people were getting more and more drunk she kept saying “I’m not going to be your number twenty-two on your trip, oh no! That’s not going to happen”. It was a clear signal on the slut radar and only an idiot wouldn’t see that’s an invitation to pick her up.

  We gathered the group together and all of us went to a sketchy place called LA café (now Manila Bay café), which is basically a giant freelance hooker bar. I had never seen so many hot girls in one spot. There must have been a hundred girls in there. It was almost overwhelming and I started ignoring Franka the German girl again. Partl
y as a technique, but also because I couldn’t care less about her since there was so much eye candy around.

  With Franka, there was only the physical attraction of her height and enormous boobs; as soon as she opened her mouth nothing more than annoying drunk bullshit came out. I normally don’t like to talk bad about people but damn, she was annoying.

  As always the Philippine band was amazing. The Pinoy bands are all over Asia for a reason; the Philippine people have great singing voices and love to sing. Except for the clubs it’s all very romantic American music and it’s not strange to see a big Philippine guy sing a Peter Cetera song. Well, it’s strange, but it’s not unusual.

  We were all getting pretty drunk, Franka most of all, while we tried to play pool with some Pinoy guys. After eating a bit we all went back to the guesthouse. Which is where things got interesting. All of a sudden, I was having sex with Franka in the top bunk bed of the room she shared with a German guy she was travelling with but not banging. That was unexpected.

  Since together we weighed quite a lot, I was afraid we were going to break the bed with our animalistic banging. I didn’t expect much from her but she was wild between the sheets. That night I got my German flag. My peeking at Franka’s firm and beautifully shaped breasts all week was now rewarded, and I couldn’t stop playing with them. The next morning we had sex again and from here my memory kind of fades. Sometimes it’s all a big blur thanks to the cheap and tasty San Miguel beer. I think she left the next day. She later disappeared off my Facebook.

  The guesthouse is a trap: you plan to go there for a few days and you end up staying two weeks. Every night I would hang out with other travelers and the girls across the street at the three street bars. The freelance hookers there were hard to convince, it’s no Cambodia where I did so much free banging that my dick nearly fell off. Now that I’m writing this I wonder why I didn’t go out much those days to pick up Pinays. I guess I liked it too much in the guesthouse with the other backpackers.