I Fell In Love With A Bar Boy: Pride Goeth Before A Fall

Tags

Gay Thailand

Noom – my bar boy friend and current love of my life – won’t allow me to cross a street on my own. I’m not sure why stepping off a sidewalk onto asphalt transforms me into someone needing an assist in his mind, but as soon as I do he’s right there. How I managed to survive decades of crossing Bangkok’s streets on my own prior to meeting Noom must be a constant source of wonderment to him.

It’s a patronizing gesture that did – and still should – annoy me. But I finally decided it stems from his concern over my safety; crossing a street in Bangkok, with the city’s demolition derby-like traffic, can be dangerous and Noom makes sure he’s by my side in case some car comes caroming down the road as if hurled by a belligerent god. Any pedestrian who foolishly decides to go mano y mano with motorized Bangkokians by stepping onto their turf had better have some major karma points stored up. You’d think vehicles powered by an Asian mind don’t come with brakes, or at least their drivers have some superstition against touching them. And you can’t really be annoyed with someone who is willing to take a vehicular hit on your behalf. Not that that explains why he still feels the need to take my arm when the city’s streets are sclerotic with jammed vehicles, but then fantasy is an important condition to the success of any farang/bar boy relationship.

I’m not that old nor physically feeble to require help mastering simple daily activities like crossing the street but you’d never know it from Noom’s constant efforts at assisting me. Flights of stairs, in his mind, are evidently as tricky as roadways. Being basically a lazy person, I would have no problem if he picked me up and carried me up stairways, but instead I get a hand on my elbow. Which is never the type of PDA I’m hoping for. That too, while polite, is a gesture I could live without. But tolerate since he is as willing to lend me a hand when we are crossing the sheets of a bed too. Besides, stairs in Bangkok can be tricky. You’d think construction standards were nonexistent in Bangkok, though we all know they do exists because otherwise how would city building inspectors ever make any tea money?

Thais tend to think of Thais as the world’s ideal human being. Even when it comes to farang feet. So there is no good reason to make the tread of the step of stairs fit for a size 11 foot when everyone knows at their deepest they need only accommodate a size 8. And while builders in the West are foolishly forced to build stairs so that the rise is a uniform 7”, in Bangkok a 3” rise is perfectly acceptable and better fits the smaller gait of locals anyway.

No problem. As a farang you learn to take half-steps instead. Until they throw in a quarter step just to keep you on your toes. Literally. Thais are masters at focusing on what is truly important – like providing a way for you to get from the street up into a gogo bar – than they are on pesky little details like constructing that passageway with your safety in mind. If your karma means that you wind up laying in a bloody heap at the foot of the stairway instead of upstairs in the bar that’s your problem. At least with the former your wallet will remain intact, even if several of the more important bones in your body do not.

I’m never sure of the proper etiquette on stairs. I know, for example, that when walking with fish on sidewalks it is considered gentlemanly to take the streetside position so that you become the latest pedestrian fatality in the event an Asian driver manages to navigate over a curb successfully. A lot of etiquette rules are based on the false assumption that fish are more deserving of life than men are. And whether you buy into that proposition or not, most make sense, there is some logic at play: your body between a fish and a car means the fish survives. But I can never figure out if on stairways you are suppose to descend first, to provide a cushioned landing in case she trips and goes flying downward, or you are supposed to follow, thereby allowing you the opportunity of grabbing her should she start her downward spiral.

I do know in Bangkok it doesn’t really matter because the locals climb up the down staircase and vice versa, and treat all stairways as do sardines in a can anyway. They only leave enough room for clumsy farang to trip when their half-step gait meets a quarter-step landing. Sanook is important to locals even when performing routine tasks like climbing stairs. And clumsy farang are a constant source of sanook. As am I for Noom.

Noom is intuitive to a fault. He reads every little tell, look, and bit of body language like a fortune teller reading your palm. So you’d think jerking my elbow out of his hand when we start up a flight of stairs would get through to him. But he knows better. Or at least knows who looks the fool when all he is doing is (innocently) showing his concern for my safety. And giving proof to the need, I did trip one day following him up a short set of stairs in Siam. Not that I’m not clumsy by nature, but between the half-step to quarter-step rise of the stairs, my attention focused on Noom’s ass as it wiggled its way upward in front of me, and his annoying habit of walking at a constantly varying speed, I took a quick – and embarrassing – tumble. It’s one of those moments in my life that I’d love to do over. Not to avoid tripping. But rather to give him a wounded, guilt-inspiring look for having not prevented it. Sanook is not an unknown concept to the farang mind too.

There are just over ten years separating Noom and I in age. I may be the elder of the two, but I’m not so aged that I need constant tending to like the geriatric he likes to pretend I am. Which despite the fantasy he likes to feed by helping me cross streets and manage to get up a flight of stairs without tripping over my own feet really has nothing to do with his taking care of me. It’s his version of sanook, with a bit of payback thrown in for good measure. And he blew his ploy one night in Patpong when a little girl beggar plying her trade on behalf of the city’s Mafia to separate cash from the pockets of unsuspecting farang called me “Papi” as we strolled past. Noom giggled. He usually ignores the fake beggars. But this one had just landed a mortal blow to my pride. And did so squarely in the arena he’s chosen to use to score a few retaliation points of his own.

Noom is a proud man. He takes great pride in who he is, what he has accomplished in his life, and in his ability to tackle the world on his own. Needy is not an adjective that has ever been used to describe him. It is one of the similarities between us that helps makes our relationship a successful one. Great minds thinking alike and all that jazz. That likeness in thought can also be a cause for wounded pride. Even when it stems from the love we share, the concern we have for each other’s happiness and well-being, and our mutual desire for taking care of each other. I inadvertently started this one off by email.

Back when the Red Shirts were busy turning downtown Bangkok into their own version of a Boy Scout Jamboree, Silom was being transformed into a mini-Beruit with armed encampments and daily blood and violence taking home far too close too Noom’s place of work. Not a fan of Thaksin’s northern brigade, and less than pleased about how its actions were affecting bidness, Noom mailed me frequently with updates. Which, of course, were all about how bad bidness was. The boy’s temper is second only to his sense of pride and I worried about his safety. And told him so. Ooops.

Perhaps face-to-face that would have been acceptable, or at least ignorable. Email, however, is a poor means of communication, providing no room for body language and nuance. A simple closing salutation of ‘Take Care’ probably would have been the wiser choice and would have expressed my feelings just as well if not better. Instead, by telling Noom I was worried about him and his welfare, he took it to mean I thought he couldn’t take care of himself. Pride can be a real bitch. But then so can love. Or at least my version of it.

We sorted out that error in judgement on my part by both agreeing he was quite capable of caring for himself. Always and in all things. Slightly mollified, Noom forgave me for ever suggesting otherwise. And, of course, I immediately began making sure to include ‘Take Care’ as my closing salutation in all subsequent emails. And in person began offering my assistance whenever it looked like he might not be capable of accomplishing something on his own. Like tying his shoelaces.

Big surprise, it was not long after that I became too delicate and frail to manage crossing a street on my own. And needed help navigating a flight of stairs or getting through a door without Noom holding it open for me. Anyone observing us would think, “What a polite young man that is!” not realizing his politeness is a discrete form of flipping me the bird. As is mine in getting him a glass of orange juice at breakfast because Vitamin C is important for his health, helping him on with his coat so he doesn’t catch cold, and opening his bag of Doritos, ‘cuz you know how dangerous and tricky that can be. Now, when it comes to taking care of each other’s needs we are both polite to a fault. The care and feeding of each other’s pride is of major importance in our relationship.

The less generous claim farang/bar boy relationships are all needs-based; that the – often older – farang needs sex that he is unable to obtain in his home country and the bar boy needs every satang he can pry out of his farang’s hand. It is a common misconception born by the disgruntled, experienced by those for whom the mutually beneficial facets of a relationship are a foreign idea and a benefit beyond their social/emotional capabilities. If it is a true relationship – and despite the claims of many, Farang/Thai bonds often are – sex and money end up playing a very minor role. Often, what both parties really want from, and fill for each other, is a need for love. And all the aspects that emotion entails.

It’s easy to focus on the financial, though that seldom is the underlying motive in these relationships. The true and more fundamental needs, the filling of which is often sought through a relationship, are often nothing more than companionship, mutual support and respect, and the fulfillment you get from being an important and valuable part of another human being’s life. In the end it has little to do with age, sex, or money. In the end it has little to do with the farang being sometimes older and almost always more financially fit, or the Thai being younger and often more physically fit. And it has little to do with the nationalities of the two involved.

The same search for a beneficial existence with someone you love and who loves you is played out worldwide, within a country’s boundaries as well as beyond them, between breeders as well as between those attracted to the same sex, and among those of similar as well as disparate ages. Thailand merely provides a forum where those so inclined can easily meet. Thanks to its culture, Thailand began filling that need way before Match.com ever existed. Provided you are capable of opening yourself to the idea that you do need somebody else in your life to – and I hate to use this thought – make yourself whole.

This is Gay Pride month, the time each year we are supposed to celebrate our community and remind ourselves to be proud of who we are. It’s also a good time to consider pride as it relates to your entire life. Pride in yourself as a characteristic is generally a good thing. Until you allow it to get in the way of growth. Or happiness. Too much of any good thing can be a detriment; you can have too much pride for your own good. Some of the pundits who frequent the gay Thailand message boards like to claim those who open themselves to a relationship with a Thai – be he a bar boy or not – lack pride in themselves, show little or no self-awareness, and are needy, gullible old men who confuse love with money. And while I have no problem with those who limit themselves to a cash for sex existence – that’s filling an immediate need and is fine as far as it goes – I disagree with their assessment of those looking for more.

I think it takes a great deal of pride in yourself to be open to the idea that there are needs in your life beyond those you can fill on your own, that your happiness can depend on someone else being a part of your life. I don’t think falling in love with a younger Thai man is a sign of desperation, I think it is a sign of having enough pride that you can reach out to someone else. And accept what they can bring into your life. It takes a lot of self-confidence to admit that you need someone else, and a lot of pride to view your worth an acceptable trade in any relationship, especially one that at first glance would appear otherwise.

You don’t hear often from those farang who have formed loving, successful relationships with Thai guys on the message boards, but thanks to this blog I have. As well as from many in the process of doing so. And rather than the fools and losers in life the pundits like to assume – and convince you – they all are, to a man they are the kind of men you’d be proud to call a friend. Which ain’t necessarily true with the board habitants. Invariably they are men proud of their accomplishments in life, with good reason. Many are at a point in their life when they feel the need to complete what anyone else would agree is a fulfilled one, by opening themselves to someone who can provide them with those needs they are unable to fill on their own. And having two hands, that need is seldom just about sex. Rather than the fall the pundits will tell you is headed their way, their pride in themselves makes a full, and genuine, relationship not only possible, but probable.

I fell in love with a bar boy, and I’m proud of that fact. Not because of who I am or the incredibly hot guy I can now call a friend (though there is that too) but because of who he is, how proud I am of him, and what he has done for me and for my life. Even when that means taking the occasional blow to my ego to keep him happy.

Related Posts You Might Enjoy:

I Fell In Love With A Bar Boy: Luck and Love

I Fell In Love With A Bar Boy: The Boyfriend Experience

I Fell In Love With A Bar Boy: What Bugs Me

Face, Baby, Face

Tags

Gay GoGo Bars, Gay Thailand, Offs

Face is a difficult concept for farang to understand. But then they spend their lives living in a fantasy world anyway.

A reader recently made the brilliant comment that what bar boys really need to take into consideration is farang’s face. Face, an important but difficult to define cultural concept, holds great sway in many Asian countries. It’s about your reputation, your image, your honor, and the esteem you are held in by others. But more. It is at work 24/7 whether you realize it or not, and greatly impacts your relationship with a bar boy be that a 15 minute one or one that has been going on for several years. Farang who care about what their boy du jour thinks of them, and those who like to treat their offs with respect, consider the guy’s face in how they conduct themselves.

The importance of face to a bar boy, and the cultural oddities that stem from that concept, are a popular subject on the gay Thailand message boards with numerous pundits weighing in on what is important to the working guys and how best to not dis them. Asian though farang may not be, face is important to Thailand’s visitors too. It’s just different than that for the locals. A successful relationship is incumbent on the actions of both parties involved. Yet the idea of farang face seldom gets aired. That may have a lot to do with how little respect many farang are deserving of; countless punters throw theirs away within the first few minutes of hooking up with a new guy. And then wonder why they get burned, land a dud, or get taken for a ride so often. Face, like respect, is something you earn. Like your reputation, it is something you should protect. And not being Thai, from the bar boys’ viewpoint, you are already starting off at a disadvantage.

Farang face too is much about how others view you. And how your boy du jour treats you. What he expects of you, and how he conducts himself in your company impacts your face greatly. And Thais know the greater face their customer – ooops, I mean boyfriend – has, the greater face they themselves gain. With that in mind I offer the following tips for Thailand’s bar boys on how to best protect your Farang’s face because he will be clueless to that need:

It’s not how you look but how others perceive you that counts. No really.

1. Time Is Relative.
Farang don’t quite get that time like most rules in Thailand is best ignored.. They mistakenly believe 8:00 pm means 8:00 pm and not the 10:00-ish it really denotes. Nothing will frustrate your farang more than you constantly being ‘late’ for an occasion, when everyone knows the party really doesn’t begin until you make your appearance anyway. Your inability to live your life in accordance with the dictates of the fake Rolex he wears on his wrist will cause him to lose great face among his fellow farang who are equally obsessed with the hands on a clock even though they have nothing to do with their time. Of course actually changing your own perception of time would be silly. So instead wait for him to fall asleep and set his watch forward by a half hour or so. Problem solved. Face disaster avoided.

2. Impressively Yucky.
Farangs live to impress and think their financial status actually has something to do with face. Why they continue to try to impress bar boys with their spending habits when all they accomplish is to give proof to that old adage that a fool and his money are soon parted is difficult to understand. But then if the fool didn’t part with his money as often as he does, your family would lose its major source of income. So suck it up. Just pray you don’t have to on an empty stomach ‘cuz your farang will love to impress you by taking you to American chain restaurants where the meals costs about the same as what you spend in an entire week on food. Pizza Hut is the worst.

Farang don’t understand that if it doesn’t have at least five red chilies, it’s not real food. They also don’t get that most Thais are lactose-intolerant and the idea of eating something smothered in what is really nothing more than curdled milk is disgusting. Why farang can’t learn to eat grasshoppers like the rest of the world is a puzzle. But no problem. Smile, make sure whatever pizza he orders has lots of pineapple on it, and then when it comes to the table douse it with heaping spoonfuls of crushed red chilies. And don’t worry about your farang noticing what you had to do to make your meal palatable, he’ll be too busy being pissed off at how late your waiter was in delivering his food to the table.

It’s amazing farang are not more concerned about face since most of them have two of them.

3. A Whiter Shade Of Pale.
Your farang will gain great face by showing you off to his fellow sexpats as though you were some great find. Little does he know that you have already spent quality time with everyone he knows or is likely to meet. Been there, done them. Regardless, looking your best is important to him and for some unfathomable reason farang think the darker you are the more handsome you are instead of knowing that dark skin means you are a peasant who spends all of his time in the fields doing manual labor. Unfortunately this means at some point he will realize all of the skin whitening creams and lotions he’s been paying for are counterproductive to his ideal of beauty.

Fortunately farang think Thais are some exotic species and their bodies operate differently than the rest of humanity. This can work to your favor. Tell him sperm on your skin turns it white. If you are lucky his face will mean more to him than his orgasm does and he’ll take to having a wank in the toilet instead of forcing you to witness – and participate in – that disgusting act. If the Buddha is looking kindly upon you, you may also get away with blaming eating cheese for this problem and can kill two birds with one stone.

4. The Gift That Keeps Giving.
At some point in your relationship someone will tell your farang that all the bling that he’s been buying you is really just a ready source of cash; that as soon as you can you return it to the closest gold shop for what you really wanted: baht. Farang hate to be taken for a fool. Yours will quickly stop buying you gold bling as proof of your love for him, thinking he is saving face by doing so. Fortunately farang don’t realize you have the same deal with just about every vendor and store in town. Tell him instead how hot your loom is and that you need an air-conditioner, or that you need a refrigerator to keep your cheese in, and that wallet will appear quicker than an underage boy at Mic My bar. Sure it’ll cost you a few extra bucks to get a large appliance back to your favorite retailer, but you can always tell your farang you need 500 baht for taxi money, and that’ll cover that expense.

If your face is cute enough your farang won’t care about his.

5. You Lie Him, You Really Lie Him.
Savvy farang quickly learn that you are telling him a little white lie when you say you lie him or that he is a hansum man. Assuming ‘little white lie’ is Thai for a fib the size of a sexpats prodigiously ballooning stomach. Not that he’ll ever stop you from saying so, or will tire of hearing you say it. Because fantasy and face have nothing to do with each other. But telling him those things in front of his fellow sexpats is a different story. They can barely stand to be in his presence themselves and your obvious lies will cause him to lose face. It’s just a shame that face isn’t the one attached to the front of his head. On the other hand farang gain much face for knowing how to speak Thai, so they all learn the same cute phrases. That no self-respecting Thai ever actually uses. Jai Dee is a good example and the perfect compliment to pay to your farang in front of his fellow sexpats. He’ll think you are saying he has a good heart. The other bar boys within earshot will know you are marking him as a fool who will dig out his wallet at the drop of a hat.

6. Hello Mudder – Hello Fadder.
Inviting your farang to meet your family will give him major face among his peers. It shows that you really lie him. If you are lucky, you are an orphan and can rent some old people from your village to play the role of your mama and papa. If you are less fortunate, you’ll actually have to introduce mama and papa to their meal ticket. But this is a form of merit making; they will give you major kudos and tons of sympathy when they actually see how disgusting your ‘boyfriend’ really is.

Having been brought up well, your farang will want to waste his baht on purchasing small gifts for your mama and papa even though everyone knows nothing says respect like cold hard baht. But will not have a clue as to what is an appropriate gift when meeting your relatives (uh, hello? Baht!). But he will believe that you papa will enjoy a bottle of Johnnie Walker (which you can then take back to your bar and exchange it for cash) and your mama will love a basket of fruit (even though she no longer has enough teeth to make headway on an apple). After he has purchased his gifts, volunteer to wrap them for him. You can save yourself from what would have been an embarrassing moment by using the baht in his wallet or hotel room safe to wrap his gifts. Then when he hands them over it really will be a Kodak moment. Everyone say cheese!

A farang ‘boyfriend’ is really no different than the chores you were expected to do at home. You’d rather not, but it helps put food on your family’s table.

7. Love Means Never Having To Say You’re Solly.
That the countries of the world your farang is likely to come from are its superpowers just goes to show you that there really is evil in the world. Collectively, they may dominate the planet, but individually they are a useless and ignorant lot who don’t understand how the world really works. Their misconceptions about what is and isn’t polite is a good example. Unfortunately that means they will insist on your using the same courtesies they use.

Your farang, for example, will feel he has lost face if you do not thank him for every little thing he buys for you. Yes, you know better; you’ve been taught that thanking someone for a gift lessens the face and merit they would have gained from the act, but then farang are barely worthy of merit anyway. So get used to saying thank you because a well-trained farang will give you many opportunities for expressing your appreciation. And once he is used to your saying thanks a million times a day, even as ignorant as he is he will figure out something is amiss when you fail to extend that courtesy. For example, not saying thank you when it takes him an entire 8 minutes to achieve his orgasm will clue him in that he needs to speed things up. Or ignoring the opportunity for saying thank you when he just bought you a new cellphone will let him know that nothing but the latest model of an iPhone is acceptable in your world. Using thank you wisely can work to your advantage. And then you can go give thanks to the person who really deserves that honor: Buddha.

8. Farang Don’t Know Maths.
It is a paradox that as much face as Farangs think they get from their financial status and the things they own and buy, when it comes time to actually get their wallet out face is all about how cheaply they can make a purchase for. Obviously your farang – and you – would gain more face by him buying you a new cellphone for $400, but he will think getting it for $350 does more for his rep. This isn’t a problem for you since all your friends know farang overpay for everything anyway and will assume he dropped $500 on your phone. But your farang will want to haggle over the price at your favorite cellphone shop and they all think the best way of bargaining is by yelling. Which costs you the face you would have gained by your farang buying you the most expensive phone in the store in the first place.

Farang think the darker your face is the more handsome you are. No problem, the face you will gain in your village when he buys you a new house will make up for it.

So offer to bargain for him. He will think that because you are Thai you will be able to negotiate the best price. Not being able to understand a word of Thai beyond the few cute phrases he’s learned, he won’t be able to follow your conversation and you can use this time to negotiate how big of a cut you will get from the vendor for making the sale. Your farang will gain major face for getting that phone for $50 less, and you’ll get $75 for convincing him he is getting a real deal for spending $150 more than what the phone should have cost. And that’s a lot of face at a very small price.

9. Money Well Spent.
Farang hate being treated like a walking ATM. Which is stupid because everyone knows neither farang nor ATMs actually walk. Your farang will have convinced himself that the reason you like spending time with him has nothing to do with money. In fact he will come up with as many reasons as there are baht in his bank account. Lucky you. Even though it should be evident that him spending money on you is what it is all about, nothing makes a farang think he has just gained major face like you spending money on him. Like that would ever really happen.

Nonetheless, that it takes money to make money is true even in Thailand. And spending a bit of his to make a bit more of yours is a good way to allow him to believe you don’t really think of him as an ATM. Fortunately, part of his fantasy is that you have no money. So it doesn’t take much. For example, when the two for you stop at 7/11 to buy water, dig out some baht to pay for the purchase before he can get his wallet out. This simple act will bring tears to his eyes ‘cuz he’ll know it means you really lie him. And he will ignore that the baht you are using came from him in the first place.

This is the face of your farang.

Then, while he is trying to get himself under control, suddenly remember all of the things that you need – like a full compliment of skin whitening lotions and salves – and fill the counter with your goodies. Your farang, fresh from experiencing your largesse, will pay for your stuff. Of course. Just don’t forget to say thank you. It’ll make him tear up all over again. Just in case there was something you forgot to add to your first round of purchases. And if you are really lucky you’ll stop at a local mom and pop store instead of at 7/11 and you can double down by offering to bargain for your farang.

10. Um, About Your Face . . .
It’s a shame farang haven’t a clue about face or they would take a few simple steps to protect theirs. Like washing it occasionally. Thais know that being neat, clean, and dressed well – or at least appropriately – is all about face. Farang think that being the superior creatures that they are, they can get away with inflicting their poor grooming habits and weird sense of fashion on others. Unfortunately since your farang insists on hanging on you in public there is no way you can pretend that you do not know him and his lack of hygiene will negatively impact your face among thos who count: Thais.

If your farang didn’t spend his every waking minute thinking about all the sex he can buy, he might spend a few minutes a day going one on one with some soap and water. It will do you little good to complain about his lack of showering, he has enjoyed his twice-a-week bath since he was a baby. But he’ll quickly rise to the occasion (meaning about half an hour after he swallows a little blue pill) if you offer to shower with him. He’ll be all hands; you can use yours to lather up those places that are hard to reach for him. Like just about any spot on his body. These are the sacrifices you make for face.

Face is seldom the main consideration of sexpats.

There is not much you can do about the too tight shirts he wears, the pants that needed to meet a washing machine weeks ago, or his fondness for wearing black socks with sandals. But you can avoid being seen in public with him by offering him sex early in the evening. Your farang, like most elderly of his species, will fall asleep as soon as he’s come and then you can spend the evening doing what you really wanted to do (and were doing while he was busy sexing himself) anyway: watching TV.

As for those odd quirks of his, you’ll just have to suck it up and hope no one Thai notices. You may assume he is a drug-addicted psycho just cause he bites his nails, But his mom bites hers too. So it’s a learned habit you will not be able to break. That he cuts his gross toe nails at the beach is equally appalling, but those clippings can be saved and given to your local mor phee when your farang begins balking at replacing yet another cellphone. As for his belching, farting, and the constant scratching he does in public, well if he had face he wouldn’t and since he doesn’t he does. But that may draw attention away from his ugly mug and that’s the face that causes you the most problems anyway.

Related Posts You Might Enjoy:

Gay Gogo Bar First Timers Guide Part VIII

Who Said Money Can’t Buy Happiness?

If It Walks Like A Duck: The What’s What Of Bangkok’s Gay Bar Scene

I Fell In Love With A Bar Boy: Family Matters

Tags

Gay Thailand

Noom, my bar boy friend and current love of my life, considers his family mine and my family his. Even though I have met most of his and he has not met any of mine. Regardless, my parents and brothers have been adopted into his world and he makes sure on every visit I make to Bangkok to send his love to my father, while mom always gets some small gift he has picked up for her. Mom gets her tchotchkes, without comment. I’ve yet to tell my dad that there is a bar boy in Bangkok who loves him.

Years ago, before he even knew what it meant – and mostly to piss off my sister-in-law – I told my eldest nephew that when he was 18 I’d take him to Bangkok to get laid. Several years passed, and though he still wasn’t sure what getting laid was all about he was sure that the idea bothered his mother so at each birthday celebration he’d count down how many more years before his trip to the flesh pots of Thailand. When he hit puberty and girls no longer had cooties, his count down took on an urgency not previously displayed. And his mother found the whole thing even less funny.

My brother, remembering what it was like to be a teenager with raging hormones, bowed to the inevitable. His only caveat – knowing my sick sense of humor well – was that I not set his son up with a ladyboy. Unless that was what he wanted. And then my bro didn’t want to know about it. Not that he was necessarily jazzed to hear of any other developments either. Jake, my nephew, took that as a blessing and quickly altered ‘to when he was 18’ to “when he turned 18”. As in minutes counted. But then at 18 when you are talking about an orgasm, with someone else in the room for a change, minutes do count.

Jake’s 18th birthday fell a mere five days before Thanksgiving. His mom, thinking she was smarter than the average bear, said he could make his Thailand trip provided he was back home to spend the holiday with his family. Huh. A bit obvious. She doesn’t cook. And the only time they have a real Thanksgiving dinner is when I invite them over to my place. No problemo. Jake gave me a high-five and asked what day we were leaving.

I’ve accompanied a lot of newbies to Thailand over the years, and with a few minor adjustments for tastes, have a pretty standard plan of attack to ensure they get the full Bangkok experience. An 18-year-old is a different story. And a straight 18-year-old boy who is looking to have his cherry popped is a story of a totally different color. And it’s not pink. I was a bit stumped figuring that beyond booze and broads, the enticements of the Land of Smiles for that age and level of testosterone, was pretty thin. Noom felt otherwise. Once I told him he’d be meeting another one of his family members, and why, it was like watching a kid in a candy store. The plans came fast and furious.

For it being his first international trip, Jake took the plane ride with stoic resolve. His only question was whether if once we were in international airspace it’d be legal for him to drink. Kids. Whatchya gonna do. So I got him plastered. Rather than listen to him whine. Uncles. Whatchya gonna do. But it set the tone for the next few days; he got to drink all he wanted and I got to dispense with baby-sitting duties once he’d past out. The only glitch in that plan came from the disapproving parent, which took on the form of Noom. For the first time in our history together, I allowed him to met me at the airport. Not that I had much of a choice. He was so excited about meeting Jake and about beginning his duties as host I doubt if I could have kept him away. To say he was less than pleased with me thanks to the kid’s inebriated state when we got off the plane is putting it mildly. Uncles-in-law. Whatchya gonna do.

I’ve always been the cool uncle, largely due to having so few boundaries in life and a ready willingness to encourage, if not help, my nephews to misbehave. One look at Noom and Jake’s estimations of me skyrocketed. I got a high-five for that one too. Which had to suffice because by the time we’d loaded ourselves into a taxi he’d past out again. No problemo. At least he got to avoid listening to Noom scold me the entire trip into town.

Jake is a big kid, well over six feet tall with a football player’s build even though the only football he plays is in video games. Unfortunately for him for our first night in town he was still 17. He coulda passed, coulda drank to his little heart’s content, but fresh from having my ear chewed off I played the adult for a change and told him he’d have to wait for his birthday the next day. With all of Noom’s plans for a birthday party, a non-stop “whaddabout . . . whaddabout . . . whaddabout,” I shoulda let him drink. And joined him. Instead we headed to Noom’s bar so he could show off his new nephew.

I’ve got to give the kid credit. He’d flown half way around the world to drool over little Asian chicks with big tits and our first night in town was spent at a bar filled with not only naked, but hard little Asian guys instead. He took it in stride and even managed to have a good time. I rewarded him by ensuring his lap was not one of those singled out for an up close and personal visit by a pair of copulating Thai guys. The only negative comment he made was during the Big Cock Show! when he leaned over and whispered, “Um, that’s not very big.”

We made an early night of it, at least Jake did. I got to spend several more hours once back in our hotel room listening to Noom plan Jake’s birthday for him. I finally convinced him that while a cake would be a nice gesture, and a party at his bar overkill, that what the kid really wanted was pussy. We finally agreed a shopping trip to MBK the next day so he could pick out a gift from Noom might suffice. And it did once Jake got a load of all the bootleg games for sale. He and Noom spent an hour consulting with each other on which were the best, and then decided to drop me back at the hotel so the two of them could head to Noom’s loom for hours of gaming. That, btw, became ‘our’ daytime activity for the rest of the trip.

The big night finally arrived, and after a late dinner at Condoms & Cabbages (a somewhat low key reminder of the need to play safe) we headed to Nana Plaza to start the night out at Cascade. Young, strapping, and a quick learner regarding the benefits of being a big tipper, Jake was a hit with the girls. Noom too was enjoying himself, even more so once it dawned on him that Jake didn’t realize the girls weren’t. Hey, I promised not to set him up with a ladyboy, not to not take him to a bar full of them. The joke didn’t last long. Noom couldn’t contain himself. And Jake finally figured out what his braying laughter of “She not real!” meant. But it did teach him the dangers of over-indulging in alcohol while on the hunt for pussy in Bangkok.

We hit a few more bars in Nana with Jake quickly figuring out by Noom’s giggling which were ladyboy bars and managing to avoid having that experience again. And then headed down to Soi Cowboy where the third sex is less well represented and where Noom suddenly remembered he was straight. Shame for him that it wasn’t his birthday. Jake had been enjoying looking at all the girls, but finally remembered the purpose of his visit, and after getting Noom’s approval picked out a cute young girl who despite her outfit on stage managed to not look like a pro. I don’t know if it was his intention to play it cool, but once I’d paid the bar fine, Noom carefully explained to her Jake’s status as a freshly minted hetro and gave her detailed instructions on how he expected her to treat Jake. Considering the smile on Jake’s face the next morning, she must have taken direction well.

The next night we hit the bars in Patpong. Jake, already a connoisseur of female flesh on display, was less than impressed saying he’d just as soon go hit the ladyboy bars in Nana. But our proximity to Soi Twilight allowed for another visit to Noom’s bar, and the little party planner finally got to throw the birthday bash he’d envisioned. I’m sure since returning home Jake has regaled all of his envious friends with his tales of touring the red light districts of Bangkok. But I doubt he has told any of them about having a stage full of Thai guys in their underwear singing happy birthday while he blew out the candles on his cake. What he wished for wasn’t hard to guess. We made a quick exit and an even quicker beeline back to Soi Cowboy where he offed the same little hottie he’d had thee night before. Maybe it’s genetics. I’m expecting to run across a blog with a series of his posts, I Fell In Love With A Bar Girl, any day now.

On our last night in town we dispensed with surveying the bars we’d not yet hit and headed back for Jake’s third and final act with the new love of his life. Newly confident in knowing the night’s ending would be a happy one, there was less of a rush to get to the good part and we partied on Soi Cowboy into the early hours of the morning before hitting G.O.D. to finish the night off. The most expensive part of the night was the bribe I had to pay to a tuk tuk driver to let Jake drive his contraption back to our hotel. As scary of a ride as a tuk tuk careening down the street at 3am can be, it’s even worse with a white boy at the wheel. Especially one in lust and headed home to get laid.

I think I now know where Thailand got its nickname of The Land of Smiles, months later when I mention Bangkok to Jake that shit-eating grin that spreads across the width of his face says it all. And his younger brother is anxiously waiting, and counting down to, his turn at the bat in two years. Noom is just as anxiously looking forward to that date and his chance to meet another one of his family members. My dad still doesn’t know there is a bar boy in Bangkok who loves him, but I’m expecting Jake’s Grandpa will soon; Noom and Jake text and email each other frequently – Jake calls to tell me Noom said Hi quite often – and Noom always sends along his love to the rest of his family in America. The only downside to the trip is that I think I lost my status of being the cool uncle.

Related Posts You Might Enjoy:

I Fell In Love With A Bar Boy: Pretty Boy Rubs One Out

I Fell In Love With A Bar Boy: Wasted Again In Margaritaville

I Fell In Love With A Bar Boy: Dirty Dancing

I Fell In Love With A Bar Boy: Beat Me, Whip Me, Call Me Dirty Names

Tags

Gay Thailand

Just thought I’d get the bitch slaps in right up front with the title . . .

This is the third and final part of what was originally intended to be a 738 part post in honor of my favorite blogger and his fondness for beating a subject to a bloody death. And beyond. But I’ve already provided enough backstory and explanation in the previous two parts, and beating around the bush further just delays the inevitable. So here’s the problem . . .

Noom, my bar boy friend and current love of my life, is one of the most incredible guys I’ve ever met. He’s got a body to die for and a heart larger than Oprah’s ass. And for some unfathomable reason, to borrow from Sally Field, he likes me, he really likes me. So, okay, he does have that fault.

I saw Noom last just before Thanksgiving last year on a short trip to Bangkok, the primary purpose of which was to make good on a promise I’d made to my nephew to take him to Thailand to get him laid for his 18th birthday. Noom was thrilled to meet another member of his family. I think he was even more thrilled to be spending his evenings in gogo bars that displayed vagina for a change. My nephew was just happy that I didn’t set him up with a ladyboy. Getting laid a dozen times put a smile on his face too. But that’s a story yet to be told. As well as a threat of a story to be told to his mother. In any case, Noom and I were glad to have had the time to spend together, sad that it was too short, even sadder that we were separating yet again, and happy about looking forward to my next visit and the next time we would be able to see each other once again. That was then. And between us nothing has changed.

So here’s the problem . . .

A few weeks after returning home we were blessed with one of those days that only Californians can expect in December and I decided to take advantage by returning to a scene I’d spotted the week before while driving through the foothills. There was an old dilapidated barn sitting maybe half a mile off the highway, the sole structure amidst an expanse of knee-high wild grasses still golden brown from the summer’s heat and shimmering in the gentle blasts of air making their way down through the mountain pass. It was a scene worthy of Ansel Adams if he’d ever bothered to spring for color film. And good for an hour or two of indulging my photography jones.

I’d spent about a half hour snapping shots when some asshole decided to interfere; another photographer who couldn’t resist the sun’s play over the bucolic scene. In a small crowd of strangers you can acknowledge the presence of others with a slight smile and nod of the head. When there are only two of you, politeness dictates something more. An insincere greeting if nothing else. But then I’ve never been accused of being polite. Instead I said hi by accusing him of trying to steal my shot. That type of greeting is usually good for at least a momentary look of concern. But he laughed, immediately, and then told me it was a shame that whatever photos I’d be taking would never be as good as his. Yup, it was love at first bite.

Photography, like masturbation, is a solo sport. While you may occasionally share the fruits of your labor with someone else, it’s really about your own equipment and what you can do with it. After our quick bout of Who Has The Bigger Dick, we separated, and spent about an hour engrossed in setting and lining up the type of shots that cause most people to shake their head in bafflement, trying to make the most of a scene that with the exception of a few rickety buildings that had lost their battle with the elements was an otherwise featureless landscape where nature seemed to have run out of ideas. A rusty stave here, a partially buried piece of equipment only those with a cowboy fetish would recognize there, an occasional glance at what the other guy was shooting proved that besides being surly, we shared the same taste in photographic subjects. And thanks to the digital age, the few times we ended up standing in the same place we’d quickly flash our best award winning shots for the other guy to properly admire. If admire is the right word for caustic comments about lousy depth of fields, angles, and the dire need of cropping.

Tiring of the barn’s one-note act, Phil – as I learned his name was once we got around to introductions later – nodded toward a few equally world-weary outbuildings further up the hillside, a small grouping of boxy structures perched on tall, skinny stilts reminiscent of the illustrations in a Dr. Seuss book. Our solo efforts became a group grope and we headed up the hill with him leading the way which, conveniently, allowed me to check out his ass. It was as fine as the rest of him.

Falling back into our routine of ignoring each other until another opportunity presented itself to prove who was the better photographer, Phil finally committed a foul by, in response to my incredible shot of a weather beaten wood support post, he showed me his latest treasure: a picture of me. Though he controlled himself from making a comment about the similarity of the two photos, I scoffed at the idea of my suitability as a male model anyway. Phil brushed away my protest. “No. Seriously. The strength in your face . . .,” he said. And then gave me The Look.

So here’s the problem . . .

Phil is gay; he’s out to family, friends, and acquaintances who care enough to notice without the demand for a proclamation to satisfy their curiosity. Filipino-Hawaiian with the typical smattering of a conglomeration of Anglo-Saxon bloodlines that are responsible for making island boys so beautifully exotic, he’s a transplant from O’ahu and now lives a mere 20 minutes from where I do. A hunk with a nicely defined muscular build and the shade of dusky brown skin that gets even my little toes hard, he’s 32-years-old, and – with apologies to Sally Field once again – he likes me, he really likes me.

That afternoon, we quit ignoring each other and then ended up spending the rest of the day, evening, and night together. (I know, a gay meets gay has hot, steamy, sex in a secluded outdoor setting scene would have made for a much better tale, but – unfortunately – we managed to keep our clothes on for several hours instead.) We got together again a few nights later, made a habit of that, found time to spend together for Christmas, traded New Year’s Eve countdown kisses, and went from getting in touch with each other to see if we both had the weekend free to just assuming we’ll spend every night together unless one of us has another engagement and says differently.

One of the nice things about aging is the incredible number of gay boys who are into daddies. I get laid more since turning fifty then back when I could understand why some hottie would want to get tangled in the sheets with me. The only problem is too many of those guys want to call you daddy. And want you to call them son. Unfortunately when “Oh, Daddy!” becomes the mating call, far too often diapers or corporal attention to their buttocks soon follows. Not that I can’t or won’t role play (at least until the diaper thingy comes up) but for many it is beyond a mild infatuation and instead is a true fetish. Enlivening your sex life is one thing, when it’s a mandatory part of your mutual orgasm, it’s a bit too much and I can’t really be bothered.

But Phil is not into daddies. He has had boyfriends younger, the same age, and older than he is in the past. It’s scary when you met a gay guy who’s actually normal. It’s even scarier when you’ve been enjoying an unattached life of sexual freedom to meet a gay guy you begin to think of as a boyfriend. Especially when he’s hot. And feels the same way about you. And appears to have absolutely no interest in wearing diapers.

Besides sharing with me an interest in photography, and sex, Phil loves travel too. Though his arena has been South America primarily while my interest has been SE Asia. I’ve shown him a few photobooks of my shots from Thailand – there’s no competition about who has taken the best shots of Bangkok since he hasn’t been there – and he wants to accompany on my next trip. He’s also seen pictures I’ve taken of Noom – ‘cuz what value is a photobook of shots of Thailand without shots of Noom included – and considering both the frequency and intimacy of those photographs, who Noom is and what he means to me has been discussed. To some degree. We’ve yet to put a name to what the two of us are currently sharing, there have been no spoken commitments about being faithful, or considerations about what our future may hold. So jealousy – or concern – over a Thai bar boy has not been a problem. But then that view may be different when said hunk is staring you in the face. That Noom and Phil will meet is a given. How those two (in my mind) separate relationships manage to allow for the other – or not – is yet to be seen.

So here’s the problem . . .

I want my cake. And I want to eat it too. Straying outside of a committed relationship for sex, when it’s only sex, and when that act has been blessed by both parties involved, is one thing. When that sex also involves love, respect, friendship, and caring, it’s a different story. Obviously a three-way is the answer. But outside of my fantasy life, that’s not likely. That’s like buying a lottery ticket. You hope you win, it’d be nice to win, the chances of winning millions of dollars however are slim to none.

With the exception of wanting to make sure I do not hurt him in anyway, I do not see a problem with Noom’s side of the equation. Fortunately, we’ve gone through a similar scenario when my buddy Dave and I revisited our old haunts in Bangkok accompanied by Noom that time around. Both did fine at first, and then it became a bit problematic when each realized there was love in addition to friendship involved. But once Noom learned his position was not threatened, it was no longer a concern. The difference is that in that battle Noom had sex on his side, Dave did not. Even though we did all end up naked in bed together. (I really, really need to stop wishing for that three-way resolution!)

I love having sex with Noom. I love having sex with Phil. I’d love to have Noom for sex when I’m in Thailand, and to have Phil for sex when I’m not. But with neither guy is it sex and sex alone. Regardless of how much I love the sex. Just in case I failed to mention that before. How the sex part of our relationships will shake out when all three of us are in Thailand is part of the question. Though that could easily end up being me shaking it on my own. I know – and just don’t yet want to admit to it – that that probably means giving up doing Noom. Unless I hit the three-way lottery. And I suspect – and just don’t yet want to admit to it – the same will hold true for not just when Phil is with me in Thailand, but for any future trips I make on my own. Assuming what Phil and I share continues to grow into a full blown relationship. Which is safe to assume.

Phil is a pretty levelheaded guy. Meaning he doesn’t act like a woman. I do not foresee him objecting to my continued friendship with Noom. A friendship that incudes sex may be different. The commitments I’ve made to Noom and my continued support of his efforts to make a future for himself are not on the table for discussion; behaving myself while doing so may be an issue. I fell in love with a bar boy, because Noom being Noom, how could I not? But now I’m falling in love with an equally incredible person, one with whom there holds the promise of a relationship beyond what Noom and I can have.

So there’s my problem . . .

Related Posts You Might Enjoy:

I Fell In Love With A Bar Boy: Lub L’Dat

I Fell In Love With A Bar Boy: Winds of Change

I Fell In Love With A Bar Boy: Three-way

I Fell In Love With A Bar Boy: Horndog Leashed

Tags

Gay Thailand

Again, so soon?

This is the second in a series of posts within the I Fell In Love With A Bar Boy series of posts, though it will appear to have little to do with Part One, which I posted a day or two ago. Like that post, this one is capable of standing on its own. But it is a lead in to the post that (should) tie them all together. Coming quickly one after the other, this mini-series should provide a basis to better explain a dilemma, an unforeseen and unexpected problem that has recently risen, though I coulda just as easily asked you to go back and read the previous 91 I Fell In Love With A Bar Boy posts instead. But this way provides an excuse to post another few dozen pix of some hot Asian guys. I’ve always been a firm believer that when life throws you a curve ball, your best response is to turn to porn . . .
Noom, my bar boy friend and current love of my life, is my friend. And a sex partner. He’s also a buddy, travel companion, confidant, fellow provocateur, not to mention an all around nice guy. What he isn’t is a live-in partner. Which may be a good thing since he identifies as straight. Whatever in the hell that means to a Thai. Not that that necessarily precludes us from becoming live-in partners. Distance is to blame for that. As is that I enjoy living in my country too much to ever consider moving to Thailand, and Thailand is too deeply embedded in Noom’s soul for him to ever be happy living in America. That does however preclude me from calling him my boyfriend, ours is more a friendship with benefits regardless of how much we care for each other. And regardless of how much I enjoy having sex with him, our friendship precludes me from calling him the other FB, fuck buddy, because while important (to me), the sex is not the driving force in our relationship. But it ain’t a bad shot in the arm either.

Boyfriend, bar boy friend, lover, sex partner, customer and john . . . what ever you call it, it still boils down to being a relationship. ‘Being in a relationship’ should not require further comment, the parameters of every relationship are different and yet the concept is the same. Or so you’d think. Throw in an adjective or two, however, and what is a relationship to some no longer qualifies as one to others. In my book, a ‘committed relationship’ is an oxymoron; if there is no commitment then there is no relationship. And while whatever works for you is fine by me – because it’s your relationship, not mine – an ‘open relationship’ has just never made much sense to me. It’s a committed relationship without the commitment. Ergo, it’s not.

But then there are nuances to every relationship that are not apparent to outsiders. I’m in a relationship with Noom, a adjective free relationship that we both consider to include a commitment to each other, yet due to his line of work when I’m not in town he’s often to be found in bed with some other farang. Neither of us would call what we have an open relationship; others would say it is the epitome of one. At best, I’d agree that we are not engaged in yet another adjectived relationship: a monogamous one.

Monogamy, as a concept or practice, just doesn’t work. The idea is foreign to mans’ existence. Like with all species on this planet, for men it’s all about procreation. Spreading your seed as often, as far, and as wide as possible is where it’s at. I hope whoever came up with the concept of monogamy died a bloody and well-deserved death. Because that little nugget of moral rectitude is the cause of most problems in relationships.

Throw in the pure pleasure of an orgasm – assuming you are doing it right – and it is astounding that any man would ever be capable of a monogamous relationship. Some would even argue that you are not being monogamous when you have sex with yourself. Most guys masturbate, partnered or not. Even the morally righteous do. In a recently conducted poll 61% of married Christian men admitted to masturbating regularly. Damn cheaters every one.

I do, however, believe you can be monogamous in your heart, while other parts of your body are busy at play. Sex is one thing, an emotional attachment to someone is different. The former does not have to infringe on the latter, though it’s a good idea to establish that parameter before stepping over the line. It will be interesting to see what paradigm develops as gay marriage becomes the law of the land. Some localities, preparing for the inevitable need for divorce laws once same-sex marriage becomes a reality, are having a difficult time defining what constitutes consummation when both parties sport the same sex organs. They are quickly discovering that applying traditional concepts and legal terms to gay marriage is not as simple as it seems. Monogamy is part of heterosexual marriages; it may not necessarily be for same-sex unions.

And when monogamy isn’t a legal/moral boundary, but rather a self imposed one. . . well,

I have to wonder how much monogamy owes its existence to problem avoidance. I’ve been in enough relationships to know that at first the idea of looking for sex elsewhere just doesn’t enter your mind. Your guy is all you need, he is all you want. But then, over time, the idea of a little something on the side takes root. Devotion keeps some from acting on that urge. Guilt does it for others. The possible messiness of being caught and the ensuing arguments, fights, and drama are probably an even greater deterrent. For me it’s never been a question of whether or not to cheat, but rather that if I am contemplating doing so, what then does that say about the relationship I’m in? Which usually results in being about the relationship I’m no longer in.

I take commitments seriously, that includes the commitment to being a couple. No problemo with a traditional boyfriend, at least not until my eye begins to wander. With Noom, it’s different. We are a couple only when I’m in town. Even then, when schedules conflict I’ve sent him off for the night to fleece some other customer. And he has, in turn, given me permission to off other bar boys. Provided I tell him first. Right. I can sometimes be dense, but I’m not stupid.

On every trip I’ve made to Thailand since I met Noom I have serious intentions of playing around, trying someone new, hitting the bars and hitting every hottie I find on the first night or two of my holiday. Or the last few. Or both. Gay Romeo alone offers a wide selection of willing partners. And there are enough gogo bars in Bangkok that even the most picky punter is sure to find one Thai hunk that measures up to his standards. I love Noom. But I’m still a guy. Though evidently a castrated one because despite plans of doing otherwise, as soon as the plane lands I make a beeline for Noom’s arms. In reality, I’m monogamous in our relationship by choice. Possibly, due to laziness.

Whether it is with a bar boy or not, a relationship between a farang and a Thai, where distance is more prevalent than not, presents a whole host of problems. How you deal with the question of monogamy in those relationships differs from one couple to the next. The more frequently you are together, the less of a problem it is. When you are apart, what, if any, boundaries you set are up to you. As are promises made. And whether or not they are kept. However the two for you decide to deal with a long-distance relationship, trust becomes the key. If that trust is lost, whether over a real or imagined infidelity, that relationship is over. Though it may take you a few months, or a few years to realize it.

Noom and I have avoided problem within our relationship by not setting any rules regarding the times we are separated. It wasn’t a conscious decision to do so, but rather by default. By not deciding to, we decided not to. But then we both have a leisurely attitude toward sex. Our emotional attachment is of greater importance. I don’t care how many customers he has – a good thing since that’s how he makes a living – and he doesn’t care what I do back home, or if I off another bar boy in Thailand as long as it’s just sex. Neither has anything to do with what we share. The only time jealousy reared its ugly little head – which actually happened twice – was when he perceived his position in my world was being threatened. But that was about trust too. Both times I was able to reassure him. And both time the make-up sex was incredible.

Even then, Noom likes to remind me that I was a butterfly before meeting him. He likes to remind me of that often. I think that is more about the reassurance he gets from hearing the words than it is about my history. It’s not about my previous habit of flitting from on bar boy to the next, it’s about having finally found a guy to share my in-country life with, the companionship and warmth of knowing an actual person instead of just a nice piece of ass. The sex is just a bonus.

In my last post I wrote about the collectivist society that forms the basis for personal, family, and village life in Thailand, and purposefully did not use the word obligation even though a lot of that culture is based on obligations. My iconoclastic soul bristles at the thought that there are things I have to do, that there are requirements I am obligated to meet. I prefer to think of them as choices. Because all obligations and commitments ultimately really are a matter of choice. Noom and I have made commitments to each other, I have obligations to him as he does to me. Some, in fact most, stem from my accepting and participating in the way Thais have decided the world works. Like with monogamy, none of those obligations can be forced on you. You always have a choice in the matter. If you choose to be monogamous, it’s no longer an obligation. It’s something you do willingly, without thought. When you choose to make a commitment or a promise to someone, it’s no longer about a duty owed. It’s about a mutual agreement, in our case to take care of the other guy’s needs, whether that be emotional, financial, or physical.

The importance of Noom in my life is unquestionable. Defining our relationship isn’t as simple. That I’m a happier person knowing him is a given; that I’m a better person because of him is too. We have both made promises and commitments to each other, out of choice. Monogamy may not be one of those, but seeing to the welfare of each other is. Ours may not fit into the traditional perception of what a relationship is, but it works. Glitches only arise when that relationship encompasses life outside of Thailand’s borders.

Related Posts You Might Enjoy:

I Fell In Love With A Bar Boy: Learned Behavior

I Fell In Love With A Bar Boy: The Boyfriend Experience

I Fell In Love With A Bar Boy: Three-way

I Fell In Love With A Bar Boy: It Takes A Village

Tags

Gay Thailand

This is gonna be an unusual entry into my I Fell In Love With A Bar Boy series of posts. For several reasons. First, while I think it will still stand alone (no guarantees since its ending is not yet in sight), it actually is Part One of a god only knows how many parts series within the series. The multi-episode format is due to, I think, that I’m missing Boo Hoo’s habit of making a 738 part post covering a two day trip he once made. Okay, so I don’t believe that myself. But it was worth a try. The important thing is that this post is leading somewhere; it’s part backstory, part explanation . . . when I finally get to the point where it becomes important I’ll remind you. I’m not sure when that will be.

Second, usually when I write these posts I have a story to tell or a point to make. Sometimes both. This one not so much. Though that is more about what is to come. There is a point to this part, there may be a story coming later. I’m not entirely sure where this is all headed, or what will eventually appear on your computer screen. Not that that is unusual. I’m surprised at how often these posts about Noom, my bar boy friend and current love of my life, end up taking me somewhere other than planned. So you can add Muse to his list of talents. And I can add yet another of the miraculous things about him of which I’m in awe. Though his muscular body will always start that list off.

And lastly, I’m kinda cheating because this mini-series of posts is more about me than it is about Noom. Though he does play a prominent role. I’d like to say it is in fact about him, because he is the problem. But that’s not fair. To date he doesn’t even know a problem exists. And probably wouldn’t see it as one anyway. If you are confused already, don’t worry. It’ll get worse.

While I am still hesitant to refer to Noom as my boyfriend, I’ve never shied away from calling him my friend. Or what we share, a relationship. That’s not an attempt at being coy, nor is it in anyway meant to diminish what he means to me and what, I hope, we mean to each other. If anything, as loosely as ‘boyfriend’ is used by some who have formed an attachment to a Thai bar boy, or boys, calling him my friend is a higher honor. It removes the sexual aspect of our relationship to some degree, and while I hope physically that never happens, I value Noom’s friendship above all else. If his dick fell off tomorrow, I would still want to be his friend, I would still want to share the closeness we share now, I would still want to be part of his life. It just wouldn’t be quite as much fun.

I also prefer calling Noom my friend because of what that means in Thailand. I have friends in the states too whom I enjoy being around, people I care for and care about, but when you are part of someone’s inner circle in Thailand it’s a whole different ballgame. Being a collectivist society, when you become a Thai’s friend you also become part of his family, part of his group, part of his village. As our relationship has grown, I’ve been able to experience the constant give and take, the sharing, that Noom indulges in with both his family and those he considers friends. And have become a part of that world. His world. Doing so has been an edifying experience for me. And he’s probably been happy to watch while I’ve finally begun to see what the world is really all about.

Coming from an individualistic society where life is more self-centered than it is in Thailand – where the needs of acceptance and community always outweigh the needs of the individual – it’s difficult for many to grasp how much that mindset permeates daily life. That’s because we of the west tend to always view things from our perspective first. And last. Recognizing the ‘us’ in place of the ‘me’ is not something that comes naturally. For many, it’s something that never comes at all. This gives rise to the frequent citation of the walking ATM syndrome, the general feeling of it always being about a farang’s wallet, and the often defended reality of the bar boy who is only interested in getting as much baht for as little effort as possible that the disgruntled and disenfranchised love to promote. Huh. I guess for a lot of those guys it really is all about them. It’s just a shame their negativity drives their perspective and disallows them from experiencing the warm and supporting culture that exists in Thailand.

As Noom and my relationship has grown, so has our friendship. And I’ve been adopted into his family. I frequently get text messages and email from the brother he’s closest to, none of which is ever really about anything other than staying in touch. Papa, who speaks not a word of English, lectures me on the ways of the world as he does his other sons whenever we visit. I listen dutifully while he rambles on for ten minutes, understanding 20% of what he says at best, and then turn to Noom for a translation. Which always starts with, “He tell you . . .” and then succinctly sums up what was said in just a few words.

No problemo. It’s not really about what he says but that he feels the need to say it. And that he cares enough to do so. Much as it is with my real father. My new sister-in-law indulges me with her love of cooking, and teases me unmercifully. Her husband, Noom’s oldest brother who is the same age as I am, gets teased just as much over his inability to come to terms with not being the sole eldest brother any longer. Family is what it is whenever you are in the world.

What I bring to the table, obviously, is primarily financial in nature though I like to think my charming wit is as highly as valued. But that is not about me being a farang, it would be no different were I the rich Thai uncle. When the us takes precedence over the me, everyone contributes what they can toward the betterment of the whole. And personally, I think I get much more than what I give. It’s kinda like those Master Card commercials – a group of people who care about you beyond the materialistic aspects of your relationship: priceless.

I’ve become friends with Noom’s friends too, primarily his bar mates. There has been a noticeable difference in how they act around me as Noom and my friendship has grown. And in how I act around them. It used to bug me when while at his bar Noom would ‘suggest’ I tip a boy or two who was doing nothing that would suggest he should be tipped. I know now those were and are his friends. And those tips were about sharing the wealth. Even more so, it was about Noom bringing me into his circle.

Originally, I’d watch Noom pull money out of his pocket – that I’d given him – to pass on to his friends in need. That eventually changed to a direct transaction from me to them, thanks to Noom attempting to teach me a lesson in how the world works. At least his world. It just took a while for it to sink in. Even though his friends understood what that gesture meant immediately. Now when I’m in his bar or on the soi I get well taken care of. Not because of the baht I have or am willing to share, but because I am part of the community; the money I have has little to do with the riches that I enjoy.

As quickly as Thailand is growing and taking its place as a developed country, it’s rural past is not that far in the distance and is still a major part of the country outside of the large cities. Village life still resonates deeply within the Thai soul. The banding together for the betterment of all is still the main focus of how the majority of Thais live their lives. Bangkokians no longer live in a traditional village. But tend to treat their neighborhoods as such. As well as their circle of friends who may be brought together through school, work, or some other shared interest. That connection to a community is a necessary part of their life. It means having a built-in support group, as will as immediate acceptance into a group of people who care for you and care about you. It’s also about caring for and about others.

Farang who are afforded the opportunity of entering that world often immediately react negatively over the financial aspects it can entail. Caution is never a bad thing. Wearing blinders can be. Money, believe it or not, is not the end all. Noom happens to love the stuff. I’ve watched him become incensed over an amount as little as 10 baht. And then watched him turn around and hand out several hundred baht to friends with a smile on his face. That’s because he knows that it’s not the value of money that is important in life but the value it brings to your life. And to the lives of your friends and family.

So, I warned you that I had no idea where this post would take me and it isn’t where I expected to go. This part was suppose to be about my friendship with Noom, and though it is, the latter half seems to read as if it is all about money. I guess that’s to be expected. I still get defensive about the subject because I hear too often about how it is the financial aspects of Farang/Thai relationships that really matters. When it is not. Even though it takes money to keep a village going. It’s not a bad point to make in any case. And worthy of a post on its own. Now we’ll just have to see how that ties in with Part Two .

Related Posts You Might Enjoy:

I Fell In Love With A Bar Boy: Uneasy Rider

I Fell In Love With A Bar Boy: The Cost Of Love

I Fell In Love With A Bar Boy: ‘Til Death Do Us Part

I Fell In Love With A Bar Boy: Thanks For The Memory

Tags

Gay Thailand, Offs

One morning I woke up Noom – my bar boy friend and current love of my life – with a blow job. Though ‘woke-up’ is a euphemism for both of us acknowledging he was awake. When we sleep together the least little unusual movement on my part brings him immediately to a state of alertness. I like to think that is because he is so attentive to my needs, but realize it probably has more to do with his history of sleeping with farang customers. If I were him I’d sleep with one eye open too.

But the blow job, coming from me first thing in the morning while his eyes were still closed, was unusual. Unlike what is probably true with far too many of his customers, I don’t usually molest him before he’s had the chance to greet the day. I let him shower first. Not that I’m adverse to morning sex. Even though the time of the day that qualifies as morning for us comes closer to qualifying as a nooner for most. It’s just that by the time we wake it’s a rush to get to breakfast. And then there’s things to do and places to see. Which leaves little time for people to do. Even though doing Noom is one of my favorite things. I’m not sure how Julie Andrews missed that one.

Regardless of the time the clock says it is, a blow job is a nice thing to wake up to. There aren’t many better ways to start your day than getting head. Some gay guys would argue giving head is a great way to begin your day too, but though I do suck dick – it’s kinda one of the things us gay guys do – I’m not one for whom life’s greater pleasure is having someone’s dick in my mouth. At a minimum, I like to be on a first name basis with a dick before I start deep throating it.

Not that there is anything wrong with guys for whom life is the pursuit of dick to suck. I’m thankful for the cock sucking lovers of the world – I am not as picky about who has my dick in their mouth as I am about whose is entering mine. For me though it is more about giving my partner pleasure than it is about unbridled joy at having a dick to suck. Though admittedly, it’s usually about nothing more than returning a favor.

Noom and I have spent enough mornings waking up next to each other to have developed a routine. Noom is big on traditions and routines. Like most guys he is also big on having his dick sucked. With us, come morning, his fondness for routine wins out over his enjoyment of a blow job. So on most mornings I wake up causing Noom to officially wake up (god knows how long he’s been laying there faking sleep). Then he leans over, kisses me, and says, “Good Morning!” In return, I scowl at him. Not because of anything he did but simply because that’s my natural reaction whenever I hear someone say good morning in a far too cheery voice. By then we both need to pee – and since beauty before age doesn’t apply to who gets first dibbs on the toilet, I plod off to the bathroom to give myself some relief for believing it is a good morning.

But on this morning I decided to give Noom a good reason for believing it was a good morning. I’m not sure why, I’m not sure what got into me. Other than Noom’s dick. Obviously. Not that having Noom’s dick in my mouth was unheard of; it’s been there before. Just not at the hour of the day. And Noom, with his eyes still closed, did what any man – straight, gay, or confused – does when he suddenly feels his cock engulfed in a warm, wet mouth. He smiled.

When you wake up to a blow job, smiling is the right response. A small groan of pleasure ain’t bad either. Noom did both. Then his training kicked in and he reached down to take matters in his own hand. Not quite getting the gay man’s fascination with dick, to Noom sex is about the end not the means. And from years of experience, he knows he is much more adept at providing a happy ending for himself than the one any other guy is capable of regardless of how proficient he may be at that task. When it is my orgasm that matters, I’m cool with that. But on this morning, for once, it was about him more than me. So I brushed his hand away and went back to work. He knew something was up. Besides his dick. And let a confused, pleased, and surprised exclamation of “Oh!” escape his mouth. I would have responded but mine was occupied.

It’s nice when your day is so free of plans and obligations that you can spend your morning giving the man you love the devotion he deserves. I suppose it’s even nicer being on the receiving end. Not that my initial intention of waking up Noom with a blow job had as its ulterior motive the design of planting a seed in his mind about future mornings and the spilling of my seed, but I do wish the boy could take a hint. But that’s about future mornings with the prospect of qualifying for once as good. On this morning, Noom’s pleasure was all that mattered. Which he finally got when after I’d brought him to climax he moved down to repay the kindness only to be stopped. “No,” I told him after spitting. “For you.”

For a self-labeled straight man, Noom has shared a hell of a lot of orgasms with other men. And has provided those joys without reciprocal treatment to many more. I’ve no doubt he has been on the receiving end before too thanks to those into muscle worship, but even when those end in an orgasm for him and not for his customer, they are still about the desires, pleasure, and needs of the farang and not Noom. Having someone give him a blow job for no other reason than to give him the pleasure of having his dick sucked was an unusual experience. And being the polite man that he is, after it’d finally sunk in, he responded appropriately. “Thank you,” – which with his accented English comes out as ‘Sank you’ – replaced his normal first utterance of the day of “Good Morning!” And was much more sincere.

Thais are not big on saying thanks. It’s a cultural thing. The best explanation I’ve heard for their lack in practicing what in the west is a normal social nicety is that it has something to do with Buddhism. Which some how translates into that by thanking someone for what they’ve done for you, you make their gesture about yourself instead of about the person whom you are thanking; by saying thanks you are stealing that person’s karmatic thunder, as it were. So by not saying thank you, you are actually honoring that person’s gesture more than you would by expressing your gratitude.

Noom seldom says thanks. No problemo. I don’t expect to be thanked when, for example, I’ve paid for dinner because I always pay for his food. Being the more financially well off of the two of us, it’s expected that I’ll pick up the tab. That too is a social norm for Thais. It’s almost an obligation. So why would you say thanks? Or expect to be thanked? At other times when a thank you seems more in order, well, there’s a wai for that. And that gesture holds far more sincerity than the thank you that trips from Westerners’ tongues with little thought or meaning.

There was a thread not long ago on one of the gay Thailand message boards about the Thai practice of not practicing saying thank you. It evidently bothers a lot of guys. Some reported they’d gone as far as demanding their boy du jour thank them for the little things they did which they felt the boy should be grateful to them for. Because forcing someone to thank you is the surest way to warm your heart. The discussion dwindled into a general agreement that those Thais who’ve been exposed to western ways have adopted our practice of saying thanks whether we really mean it or not. As they should. Because coming from the more developed nations our social norms should be the ones that count. Not those of the country we are visiting or have decided to make our home.

That morning Noom got an unexpected blow job from me, an uncommon but pleasurable gesture for that hour of the day (which the bastard has still not reciprocated). His sincere thanks was equally rare, but of the two probably meant more. And was, and is, the more memorable of the two. And for that, I thank him.

Related Posts You Might Enjoy:

I Fell In Love With A Bar Boy: Never Say Never

I Fell In Love With A Bar Boy: Luck and Love

I Fell In Love With A Bar Boy: Pillow Flight

Pedoes In Paradise

Tags

Gay Thailand, Gay Thailand Forums

A recent raid at one of Pattaya’s bars that specializes in offering underage kids for punters to diddle – and yup, that’d be in Sunee Plaza – is the hot topic on at least two of the gay Thailand message boards right now. It has been getting the kind of participation seldom seen on Jabba The Butt’s board, but then that’s not surprising. Jabba – who has strongly advocated lowering the age of consent in the past and once ran a poll on the preferred age of bar boys, the low-end option of which started at the age of 8 – has always been a big fan of allowing child molesters to have free reign in his little corner of the internet. And while that is not true for SGT where once the P word was verboten, it’s good to see that except for a few Joes, Pattaya devotees are finally owning up to what everyone already knew: if you are looking for little kids to abuse Pattaya is the place for you. But if you are not in Thailand, no worries. The message boards too will extend a warm hand of welcome if child molestation is your thing.

The raid, as reported by several local news organizations, occurred at the Mic My bar earlier this week. In a joint operation between Thai immigration authorities and Social Welfare Officials 17 boys aged between 14 and 17 were found inside the bar. The boys were all available for sex in short-time rooms above the bar.

The bar manager and cashier were detained and are expected to be charged with human trafficking offences, and foreign patrons inside the bar were told to stay where they were until they were later taken to the Immigration Office in Jomtien where their immigration status was checked. A ‘lookout’ employee stationed outside the bar was also arrested and the bar’s owner is expected to be arrested once he is located.

The raid was the focus of an undercover operation, with an officer inside of the bar purchasing a young boy for sex from the mamasan. It had been planned after Immigration discovered that the bar had been smuggling boys under the age of 18 to work in the bar offering sexual service to Thai and foreign tourists.
Or as Jabba put it: “Oh well, there hasn’t been a raid at Sunee Plaza for quite awhile, so I guess a ‘let’s harass Sunee Plaza’ raid was about due . . .”

News of the raid of course should have been greeted on the boards with outrage over the underage sex coupled with gratitude that someone is finally doing something about the pedoes in paradise. But instead Jabba’s band of merry men read it as a warning that you should always carry a copy of your passport with you. I guess when child molesters are part of your daily life the more immediate concern is your own well-being. Though to be fair, the Irish contingent took a different tact, demanding that the police, mayor, and TAT explain their new policy that targets patrons of the city’s gay bars for persecution.

While one member of Jabba’s forum took the time to make several posts detailing his numerous visits to Mic My as well as another bar known to specialize in offering little kids to pedoes on the prowl, and took umbrage at another’s comment that punters should walk out of any bar where they witness underage employees being diddled by customers with the statement that then “there would be no Bars in Sunee and only 1 or 2 in BoysTown that you could enter”, Jabba was satisfied that “things are very different today than years ago. Most Sunee Plaza bars now hire only boys who are at least 18+ years old”.

A poster over at SGT seconded that motion going as far as to say that Mic My is the best run bar in Pattaya and, at worse, there are only a few underage bar boys working there at any given time. Even the Canadian contingent chimed in wanting to dispute the number of underage boys reported to have been caught up in the sweep saying, “I’ve spent loads of time in Sunee, and sure I’ve seen the odd guy who was quite obviously underage, but never have I walked into a bar and seen 17 of them.” Because evidently in Pattaya it’s not the act but its frequency that matters.

On both of the boards punters were livid that the bar’s customers had been taken to the police station. They felt that was wrong since there certainly is nothing illegal about sitting in a bar watching little naked kids cavort around the stage. They were equally incensed at the idea that as a customer they have any responsibility for failing to object to having little kids available for sex at their favorite bar, and Jabba said it was the responsibility of the police to put a stop to child molestation, not his. Much as you would have no responsibility for stopping at a red light but could just run it instead ‘cuz it’s the police department’s responsibility to enforce traffic laws, not yours to obey them.

Not long ago on SGT in another thread about pedoes in paradise one of the more despicable members quailed at the idea that that was a topic appropriate to a gay message board, saying that pedophilia has nothing to do with being gay. And he’s right. Pedophiles, pederasts, and kiddie molesters are about abuse, not sex. Just as rape is not about sex. Unfortunately he is also wrong. Because the gay community, especially in Pattaya, allows – and even welcomes – pedophiles to hide among them. And they are welcomed on the gay Thailand message boards too.

Jabba can claim he’s against underage sex all he wants, and he can claim he ‘votes with his feet’ but when you also advocate the lowering of the age of consent and run a message board where you allow members to specify ‘young boys’ as their interest, when you refuse to allow anyone to say negative things about your favorite haunt even though it has a well deserved rep for being a place where it’s easy to find children to prey upon, and when you want to blame the police, authorities, corruption, and anyone or anything else you can think of for the problem rather than the kiddie molesters . . . well, your actions speak much louder than your words.

The bar owners who hire children to service their customers only do so for one reason: money. The gay community in Pattaya can put a stop to the underage problem by refusing to patronize any bar that hires children. It’s not enough to say that you aren’t interested in the little kids and only off those of legal age. By continuing to help swell those bar owners’ bank accounts you are giving them your implicit approval to continue to abuse kids. One bar owner popped into the thread on SGT to pat himself on the back for refusing to hire underage kids. And he should be commended. But what does it say of that town when he is the exception to the rule? What is the message being sent when the practice is so prevalent that a bar owner expects accolades for not engaging in child prostitution?

It’s not like the problem with Mic My is new, or that it is only that bar. That it is one of the bars that specializes in offering young boys to pedophiles is not news, that rep has been around for sometime now. So have the sorry excuses for human beings who patronize the place. And they’re well represented on the boards. A simple search on SGT for Mic My brings up countless stories of “all the fun’ to be had there, along with the following quotes:

“My Mic has many assortments on the younger side as well as Nice Boys.”

“This bar seems to get raided more than others, so if your afraid of that then better not go there.”

“I am glad MIc My is still doing their thing. Id hate to go back there and see it gone.”

“My kind of place was Mic My. Tom Yum and the like so you know where my tastes were.”

“Mic My gogo soi VC if you like younger looking boys. Pattaya is by far best place.”

“There is no doubt if you have young boys in Sunee, the customers will increase dramatically.”

“You only have to look at the recent Bar New Sawatdee before it was closed. I stopped there once at 9pm and there were no seats and it was very easy to see why.”

Whenever the subject comes up on the boards the same tired excuses and discombobulations get pulled out once again. Innocent until proven guilty, it’s not just a problem in Pattaya, what about a 19 year old dating a 17 year old, you can’t believe what you read in the news, it’s not pedophilia it’s pederasty, it’s too difficult to read a Thai’s age, in some countries the age of consent is only 16 . . . none of which really addresses the issue. But does provide the smoke and mirrors pedophiles hide behind.

A new poster who’d been lurking for several years on SGT felt so welcomed by the conversation over the raid at Mic My that he made his first post claiming 90% of punters in Pattaya only like boys in their late teens to early twenties because they look like they are 14 or 15; ‘back home’ you’d have to actually have sex with underage kids while in Pattaya you can have the pleasure without its legal ramifications. He went on quite nonchalantly to say those after the 14-17 age boys in Pattaya really want 10 year olds. As though that thought was perfectly normal and was certainly not meant as a condemnation of those with that type of urge. To him Pattaya is where you go to have sex with boys who would land you in jail back home.

Of course he also wanted to make sure everyone knew he’s a pederast and not a pedophile. And claimed at heart so are his fellow fans of Sunee Plaza. Because when you are into molesting little kids it’s important to claim the correct label. I’d hope he is an exception to the rule, but his opinion of Pattaya devotees does explain why those who don’t engage in kiddie abuse ignore the problem of those who do: Many of them share the pedophile’s sickness in desire if not in action. When a child molester is arrested, for them it is a case of ‘There but for the grace of God, go I.’

It’s a shame that as the gay community is finding acceptance worldwide and opinions from those outside the community are changing, we still have to deal with the reputation of being a bunch of men who like to molest little kids. It’s even a greater shame that those of us who love Thailand are even further branded as child molesters. But then it’s difficult to convince others that we are not a bunch of pedophiles when by our inaction and preference for making excuses we allow pedophiles to be an accepted part of our community. Both on-line and in Pattaya.

Related Posts You Might Not Enjoy:

A Grim Fairy Tale

Here’s Another Thing You Just Don’t Get

A Rose Is A Rose, But A Boy Is Not A Boy

First Timers Guide To Bangkok Gay Gogo Bars (Part X)

Tags

Gay GoGo Bars, Gay Thailand, Offs

The savvy sex touri knows how to squeeze the last drop out of his time with a bar boy. Or as they like to think of it: getting full value out of money spent.

If you’ve been following this First Timers Guide To Bangkok Gay Gogo Bars series of posts, then by now you’re probably not really a newbie to the world of Bangkok’s gay gogo bars any longer. You’ve already popped your gogo bar cherry and know how to enjoy yourself at a bar without making an ass out of yourself, know what to expect when you get a bar boy back to your room – and how not to be disappointed when you don’t get what you expected – and have learned the low-maintenance life-style of being a butterfly. Hopefully, you’ve also learned how to not be a cheap ass. But learning and putting that knowledge into practice are two entirely different things. When your soul and your wallet are interconnected, not coming across as kee ngok just ain’t gonna happen. But then there are worse things in life. You could instead be considered by the boys to have a big heart.

As often as I have railed against the cheap asses of the bar world, mine is a voice lost in the wilderness. Read the gay Thailand message boards and you’ll quickly realize mine is the dissenting opinion. Sure that’s more about Pattaya where pinching a penny is considered an obligatory touri activity, but nonetheless the fact remains there is a large majority of punters out there whose ideal orgasm greatly depends on how cheaply they can score. Value is based on how much you can get for how little it can cost you. To them it’s not about the bar boys, their lives, goals, and desires. It’s about their wallets and being serviced. And I get that. I’m a big fan of the It’s All About Me generation too.

I’ve ignored punters’ complaints about the dire straits of their home country’s currency and economy, the rising costs of international travel, and the plight of sexpats who retired to Pattaya on an income that leaves them living below the poverty line as a whining of a bunch of losers for whom life is all about complaining. I should have realized that having chosen Thailand as the only place on earth where they could afford to pay for the sex that would otherwise elude them, costs play an important role. And it’s not just about how cheaply they can get an orgasm (LMTU would gladly blow them for free with the expense being nothing more than a visit to the nearest public loo). It’s about getting value for the small handful of baht they fork over to their boy du jour. I know, being known as the considerate, loving, kindhearted person that I am, you wouldn’t expect me to so brazenly ignore the plight of Thailand’s cheap bastards. So I’ll rectify that matter with these tips on how to squeeze the last satang of value out of a bar boy:

Milk is good for everybody, so milking your bar boy dry has gotta be good for him too.

1. What Goes Up.
Value isn’t about cost as much as it is about how much you receive for the money you spend. Or how often you receive it. Planned correctly your time with a bar boy does not have to follow that old adage of what goes up must come down. He may base his off on a per-orgasm basis but that doesn’t mean you have to too. If one go-round costs you 600 baht, squeezing in three orgasms during your time together means it’s only costing you 200 baht per spurt.

That’s not as selfish and one-sided ass it sounds. Your boy too can benefit. He spent some of his hard earned baht on a little blue pill so that he could look like he was enjoying your ugly ass. Forcing multiple orgasms out of him means he gets more value out the cost of that pill too, even if it is about keeping him hard and useful for your benefit. Mother Teresa should have been as thoughtful.

2. There’s Value In His Other Head Too.
As tired as you may be from squeezing three orgasms out of a cheap, short-time off, just sending your boy off into the night afterward is like leaving money on the table. There’s still gold in them there hills and to get full value from that generous 600 baht tip you paid him, you’d better be ready to mine for it. Your bar boy is sitting on a wealth of information. It’s time to drain him dry. He can tell you which of his bar mates hasn’t been offed in weeks and will be willing to do you for 300 baht. He knows which of the boys in the bar also solicit customers on Gay Romeo, which means you can get the boy cheaper and avoid an off fee too. He also knows which boys won’t do everything, or anything for that matter, and can save you from spending your money on a dud in the future. Feel free to grill him on his fellow bar boys. If it means he won’t have to deal with you as a customer ever again, he’ll probably be willing to share that knowledge with you.

3. Milking Him For All He’s Worth.
Cheap bastards hate paying for a long-time off; after all, you can get a bottle of gin for what those extra hours with a boy will cost you. Sexpats don’t want to give up the time they’d otherwise spend bitching about bar boys on the gay Thailand message boards either. But visitors can benefit greatly from a long-time off. For just a few hundred baht more you get lots of sex and tons of hidden values too.

Your bar boy’s English may suck, even if he refuses to. But then your command of the Thai language is even worse. Using your boy du jour as a translator can make your time in Thailand much easier. You won’t even have to learn those few simple Thai phrases touri who mistakenly think they need to be polite rely on. Whether it’s ordering a meal or arguing with the hotel staff over being charged a joiner fee, using your bar boy as a translator can pay great dividends. Used wisely as such you can easily recoup the paltry sum you paid to him as a tip.

As the paying customer there’s no good reason to not make your bar boy bend over backwards to please you.

Even the most hardened sex tourist tends to spend a bit of time seeing the sights when visiting the Kingdom. Your boy du jour can make an excellent tour guide too. Not that he will know of or be interested in the places you want to visit, but he will be able to communicate your desires to your taxi driver. And if you really want to save some baht he’ll know which bus is the cheapest one to take too. If you’re sly about it, you can have your boy purchase admission tickets for both of you too, getting your entrance fee at the lower price offered to Thais.

Tell your boy du jour you need to go shopping and he’ll get hard quicker than that little blue pill ever managed to make him. After you reap that benefit, you can actually hit a mall or market. When shopping, Thais always get better prices than rich farang do. You can use your boy to barter for a discount. Just keep him thinking that the money he saves you will be spent on a new iPhone for him and you’ll be amazed at how quickly those savings add up. Hell, with the money he saves you through haggling you can even afford to pick up an additional boy. And everybody loves a twofer.

There’s also money to be saved by expense avoidance. Bar boys love to go to the airport to see their Farangs off. Most assume the pockets full of baht you haven’t spent will be worthless to you and you’ll hand it over to them instead of it going to waste. That just proves that bar boys are as naive as first time visiting farang. You can use that to your benefit. You won’t have to tip the bell hop at the hotel by using your boy as a porter instead. He’s young and running up and down four flights of stairs to bring all of the suitcases you thought you needed to travel with is good exercise for him. Don’t be afraid to make him carry you down to the lobby either – it’s all part of the service and bar boys love nothing more than the opportunity of taking care of you. And while it won’t result in a direct monetary savings, once at the airport there’s no reason for you to stand in long lines when you can use your boy to save your place in line for you. That’ll give you the opportunity to find something to buy with the remaining baht your bar boy thought would soon be his.

Don’t worry if seeing to your every need causes your bar boy a bit of anguish. That’s how you build character. He’ll thank you for it one day.

4. You Can’t Squeeze Blood Out Of A Turnip, But . . .
That doesn’t man you shouldn’t drain your bar boy dry. As needy as they are it’s easy to make promises that will keep them attached to you for as long as you want to string them along. And that doesn’t have to end just because your holiday in Thailand did. Holding out the promise of a future together will guarantee an endless supply of email and text messages filled with expressions of the boy’s love for you. It doesn’t take much effort to ensure those messages come with lots of photos of your favorite part of your boy either. You can get years of pleasure out of a single extended off without it ever costing you another dime. Add those self-inflicted times of joy to your total and it can easily mean paying less than 80 baht per orgasm. Now we’re talking!

If you do decide to make further cash deposits between trips, consider that it’s not only the joy of cheap sex that can be yours. You can also finally have an official boyfriend. And you can satisfy other emotional needs too. Sure, some fools get the stroking their egos need by sponsoring a hungry child in Africa for just five cents a day. But for that same outlay of coin you can do better with what is now your boyfriend. You can not only demand that he remain chaste and true to you between your twice a year trips to Thailand, but you can cause him great emotional pain when you bust him by calling at odd hours to check up on where he is and what he’s doing. Your sexpat friends stuck in Pattaya only get that kind of fun by making fun of their fellow destitute retirees. And they’ll all be jealous of you when you parade your boy special around Sunee Plaza, or have him sit quietly while you and your cronies spend countless hours together nursing a beer during your night out on the town together. Best yet, the cost of your boy is but a fraction of what Paris Hilton had to pay for the scrawny mut she adopted as a BFF. And she didn’t get the bonus of sex out of it. I think.

The fact is if you send your boy a small monthly stipend – about what you would otherwise spend to have your car washed monthly – that’s big money in Thailand. And you now own him. Slavery may be dead, but sex slavery is alive and well. And surprisingly affordable too. Remember that ownership has benefits above renting. Just think of the fun you can have next time you’re in Pattaya and can force your boy special to undergo humiliating drug and STD tests (not that you’d waste money on tests done by medical professionals – there are cheap home-tests you can buy. Ask any of your sexpat friends, they know where you can purchase those at the best price).

It’s surprisingly how little it costs to bind your boy to you. Even if BD isn’t your thing, there’s value in owning another human being.

Not that it’s all about you. You are in a relationship now after all. You can see to your boy’s needs by helping him improve himself too. For example, while you are back in your home country you can force him to take English classes so that he’ll be better able to understand you during your future trips to Thailand. Which will increase his value to you as a companion, translator, tour guide, and negotiator. Win-win. That’s what life is all about.

And finally, if you are savvy, all of that money you spent on your boy will not go to waste when you find a new boy younger and more desperate to take advantage of in his place. Like others before you, once the romance is over there’s still value in your relationship. You can use those naughty pictures you’ve demanded he pose for over the years to pimp him out on-line to unsuspecting first-time visitors to Pattaya too. A paid-for relationship with a Thai bar boy is truly a gift that keeps giving. As long as you are willing to take what is rightfully yours.

Related Posts You Might Enjoy:

Gay Gogo Bar First Timers Guide Part VIII

Gay Gogo Bar First Timers Guide Part IX

Gay Gogo Bar First Timers Guide Part VI

I Fell In Love With A Bar Boy: The Walls That Divide Us

Tags

Gay Thailand, Hotels and Restaurants

Noom, my bar boy friend and current love of my life, is proud of the body he’s built. And he should be. He has no problem in showing it off, which is probably a good thing since that’s the way he makes his living. Stripping naked on stage in front of a room full of horny gay men nightly can’t be a comfortable experience, regardless of how often you do so. It must help greatly to know what you are stripping down to is an enviably hot physique. Noom is comfortable in his skin. Even when that’s all he is wearing.

I enjoy watching Noom on stage. I enjoy watching him walking around his bar naked and hard. Pride of ownership isn’t limited to only the actual owner. Even more, I enjoy watching him wander about in the nude when it’s just the two of us in a hotel room. Which happens often. I’m not sure if he parades about naked because of the familiarity between us, or because he’s just indulging my passion for his body. Sometimes questions are best left unanswered. Sometimes you really shouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth. Even when that’s not where you are staring.

As comfortable as Noom is in that state of undress, and as comfortable as he is in being naked around me, there are times when he considers the view of his body off-limits. Privacy does poke its little head out on occasion, even when his not so little head is usually on display. And I’m cool with that. It’s not that he is unduly modest, but rather that he’s appropriately discrete. The eye candy is to fuel future fantasies and dreams, stroke material for when we are thousands of miles apart anyway. And watching him use the facilities does not play into those fantasies.

Being Thai and automatically expecting others to know and do what is right, in most cases Noom relies on me to act appropriately on my own without his input. When it’s time to go, he doesn’t take any chances. Closing the bathroom door would work, but instead he announces what he will soon be up to. “Toilet,” he advises me, just in case I can’t figure it out on my own. “I go pee pee,” works too when he feels the need to specify. When no announcement is made, I’m free to assume he’s headed to the shower. And free to watch. Or join him. Getting my voyeur jones satisfied during most of the time we spend in a hotel room together, I usually opt for the latter. Noom extends the same courtesy to me, though rather than take the chance of using English I rely on a closed bathroom door to do my communicating for me.

Privacy at certain times and when certain bodily functions are involved is not something unique to our relationship. It’s not like we haven’t stood at adjoining urinals before when using pubic restrooms, though admittedly that happens infrequently because someone has to stand outside and hold his Ganesha ring for him (Ganesha is Noom’s personal god and evidently he’s a bit pee shy). But in the privacy of a hotel room, privacy takes precedence. Among a lot of couples. So you have to wonder who in the hell decided hotel room bathrooms with clear glass walls were the way to go.

I’m always looking for a new hotel in Bangkok. Usually, for several years now, I stay at Centre Point Silom. But there is a part of me that says there just might be an even better place at an even better price. Sometimes it’s more about a better location, a hotel closer to the area I plan on hitting when I’m just in town for a day or two. The first time I ran into what is basically a wall less bathroom was at Sacha’s Hotel Uno, a small boutique hotel on Sukhumvit soi 19. I liked the idea of being able to lay in bed and watch Noom take his morning shower. Fortunately, there were a set of wooden blinds on the inside of the glass wall that could be closed for more private times. I don’t know if Noom had experienced the wall less bathroom phenomenon before, but as soon as he came into the room he went into the bathroom and closed the blinds. They stayed closed throughout our stay.

When Glitz opened up on the corner by Tawan I was intrigued. It’s a great location, right in the middle of Patpong. The hotel’s rates were reasonable, and all of the red neon on its exterior seemed a perfect match for Bangkok’s red light district. Thinking that I might book a room for my next visit I went on-line to read reviews (which are not always accurate) and to check out pictures of the rooms (which are almost always not accurate). The rooms were a bit on the small side. I could live with that. The bathrooms, however, were small cubicles enclosed with partitions banded in frosted glass. And I knew Noom could not live with that.

Ditto for the Park Plaza on Sukhumvit Soi 18, a stylish hotel that gets goods reviews until someone mentions the clear glass walls of the bathrooms, though there is evidently a ‘privacy screen’ you can us to block off the view. I get that it’s a benefit for smaller hotels with small bathrooms to have walls constructed to let more light into what could otherwise by a dark and dank cubby hole. The ladies – and ladyboys – like lots of light to get their faces put on just right. Even the most masculine of Thai guys primp their asses off, so a well lit bathroom is a plus for them too. But not at the sacrifice of privacy.

I get that ‘boutique’ hotels all want to be hip and trendy too. I just don’t get who decided hip and trendy must mean guests displaying what they are up to in their rooms 24/7. There’s nothing hip about watching your boy du jour taking a dump. That’s kinky, not trendy.

On a visit to Chiang Mai we stayed once at Raming Lodge. It too is in a great location, right on Loi Kroh Road about equidistant from both the Night Bazaar and the Tha Pae Gate. It is not a hip and trendy hotel. It’s old, dark, and well-used. In our room, the wall separating the bedroom from the bathroom had a large set of wooden plantation shutters. Once again thinking how enjoyable laying in bed and watching Noom take his morning shower would be I immediately threw the shutters open wide. Noom waited until he’d unpacked his bag before closing them. Tightly. We did reach a compromise on that one, when it was appropriate. I got my show and he got his privacy when needed.

The old Montri hotel is an even better location in Chiang Mai. It’s right across from the Tha Pae Gate. I stayed there on my first visit to The Rose of the North, and have again numerous times since. They’ve upgraded over the years, moving from dowdier to dowdy. I suppose the upgrades are a positive thing, but I miss the old ceiling fans in each room made out of spare vintage army jeep parts. Noom and I have stayed there a few times, including during out first visit to Chiang Mai together. As down market as it is when we stay elsewhere he’s always a bit disappointed. Noom is big on traditions.

The hotel’s latest renovations are the biggest step they’ve taken, including rebranding the old dowager as the Hotel M in an effort to be hip and trendy. During all of the previous upgrades the bathrooms remained the same: a large closet with an open shower head that soaked the entire room. Now they’ve enclosed the showers with a glass partition. And added a glass wall to separate the bathroom from the bedroom. Like at Sacha’s Hotel Uno, there are a set of wooden blinds to close for privacy. I’ve stayed there without Noom. I don’t think he will feel quite as nostalgic about the place the next time we check-in. At least the blinds allow for some privacy. But when the wall is glass and any covering over it is opaque at best, that’s not possible.

The Starwood hotels in general and the W Hotel chain specifically have a good rep among travelers. They are clean, modern, and upscale. Unfortunately, the one that just opened in Bangkok in December is also hip and trendy. Located just steps away from the Chong Nonsi BTS station, the hotel is convenient for getting around town. Noom and I won’t be staying there. The pictures of the rooms they’ve published on-line clearly show they’ve gone with the hip and trendy wall less bathroom design. It’s all the rage these days. Unless you’re Noom.

It’s probably a good thing that the closest gay gogo bars in Bangkok get to kink is pseudo SM. If Noom’s bar started catering to the fringe element it would be problematic for him. As one of the guys with the hottest body at his bar, he performs in many of the shows. He does so willingly because he gets paid extra for doing so. And being spotlighted on stage raises his chances of landing a customer. But if his bar moved into the golden showers or scat arena, as a performer Noom would be, well, shit out of luck. Then again, that could open up a lot of new hotels for us to select from.

Related Posts You Might Enjoy:

I Fell In Love With A Bar Boy: Just A Word

I Fell In Love With A Bar Boy: Getting Offed and Getting Off

I Fell In Love With A Bar Boy: Going To The Chapel