Class Begins!
There is a woman sitting at a warung in Seminyak right now, explaining to a 19-year-old girl exactly how to land a Bule. What to say. How to act. When to cry. When to pull back. When to ask for money and how to frame it so he thinks it was his idea.
She is not doing this out of malice. She genuinely believes she is passing on wisdom.
That is the most disturbing part of all of this.
The older Bule Hunters, the ones who have been running this game for years, they do not see themselves as predators. They see themselves as survivors. As women who figured out the system. And now they want to teach. They want to mentor. They want to pass it down like some kind of twisted inheritance.
And the younger women are watching. They are watching, and they are learning, not just from direct conversations but from everything around them. Social media has made it worse in ways that are hard to overstate. A 19-year-old girl in Ubud can scroll her feed and see a local woman her age, draped over a foreign man, living in a villa, travelling to Singapore, posting about gifts and dinners and a life that looks nothing like the one she was born into.
Nobody posts the part where she has slept with fifteen men to get there. Nobody posts the hollowness. Nobody posts what happens when the Bule wises up or gets replaced by a younger version of her.
They just post the villa.
And so the younger generation gets the highlight reel of a transaction and none of the reality. They see the outcome and decide they want it. And the older women are right there, ready to explain how it works.
This is where the real damage happens. Not just to the foreign men being targeted, but to the young Indonesian women being recruited into a life built on performance and extraction. A life where men are not partners but marks. Where intimacy is a tool. Where your value is measured entirely by what you can get out of someone who has more money than you.
That is not liberation. That is a trap wearing a designer bag.
I have seen it play out across Bali, and I have read enough about similar patterns in Thailand, the Philippines, Eastern Europe, and Latin America to know this is not unique to Indonesia. Wherever there is a significant economic gap between local women and foreign men, this ecosystem develops. But Bali has its own particular flavor because the island attracts a specific kind of man. Spiritual seekers. Divorce survivors. Men in transition. Vulnerable men. Men who came here to heal and walked straight into the arms of someone who spotted that vulnerability from across a rooftop bar.
The older Bule Hunters know exactly what kind of man Bali pulls in. They have calibrated their approach accordingly. And now they are calibrating the next generation to do the same.
What makes this generational transmission so hard to break is that it gets dressed up as empowerment. As female solidarity. As women looking out for each other in a world where men have all the economic power. And there is a grain of real pain underneath that narrative. Economic inequality is real. The power imbalance is real. But using sex as a financial strategy and then teaching teenage girls to do the same is not a solution to inequality. It is just a different kind of exploitation, one where the woman holds the bait but is still ultimately trapped.
The young women being pulled into this deserve better. They deserve someone telling them the truth instead of handing them a playbook written in bad faith.
That is what this post is.
Continue reading: Part 3: Sleeping With Many Men Does Not Make You an Expert on Men
