A couple of evenings ago someone ran up behind me in a quiet Sunee soi and I thought for a moment that I was about to be assaulted. I span round as a young man, mid-twenties, stocky, came to a halt right next to me, smiling tentatively. 'You remember me?' he said. Not instantly, but, yes, I remembered him. He had been a waiter in a Sunee bar whom I saw on and off about four years ago. I'd liked his lovely eyes, his amusing way with words, his sexy bum (not necessarily in that order). It was those still-lovely eyes, dark and knowing, that helped me to recognise him. In other ways I could see that he has changed considerably: fuller-faced, heavier, a more masculine air. He had been a rather camp young thing, whose friends were all ladyboys, when I knew him before. I greeted him cheerfully, aware with a dull but brutal certainty that he was no longer of the slightest sexual interest to me.
We had lost touch because he went into the army. How he must be hating that, I'd think from time to time. With a secret smile I'd imagine him having to get up at the crack of dawn, mincing about on the parade ground, eating that sloppy food. With any luck an officer would take a fancy to him and give him an easier life in return for services rendered. Much to my surprise, I heard from one of his ladyboy friends after a long interval that he was enjoying life in the army and had signed up for more than the basic two years. Even more surprising was the news that he had got married. 'He big body now,' the ladyboy said in response to my gobsmacked look, as if this explained everything. I went away wondering if the army really had made a man of him, but seriously doubting the proposition somehow. Later, the same ladyboy told me that he was out of the army now and driving a taxi in Rayong, my most recent news of him before our evening encounter.
As we stood facing each other in that Sunee soi, I asked about his army days and he said they had been all right. When I mentioned his marriage he looked embarrassed and muttered something about family pressure. He said he'd just returned to Pattaya, the taxi business in Rayong having gone a bit flat. A sparkle in the eyes indicated that his gay credentials were still very much in order if I cared to check them out. I knew, of course, that that was the point of his running after me down the soi, the hope that we might resume where we had left off. I also knew that it wasn't going to happen. To be honest, I didn't even want to sit and have a drink with him, despite the fact that I had no other pressing engagements. Interesting though his experiences in the last few years may have been, I had a strong premonition that no probing of mine would take me much further than his initial non-committal answers. He had never been very forthcoming like that. I didn't want to give him any financial encouragement either. So, as I imagined a kinder, better me hugging him and walking off arm in arm with him down the street, we just stood facing each other in what soon became an awkward silence, his bright eyes boring into me. I recalled how this was an old trick of his, the long, silent stare which eventually leads to the other's capitulation.
'Look, I'd better go now,' I said at last. He asked for my phone number. I provided it, but thoughts of more awkward moments in the future made me add, truthfully, that I have been living with a young man for about a year now. He accepted the news like someone with a philosophical streak just informed that his winning lottery ticket is invalid - sadness with a hint of annoyance. 'Good luck,' I muttered, and we turned and walked away in opposite directions.
