Straight Talking

[snotface]

Back in the days when it was still possible to off a boy from a Bangkok bar without taking out a second mortgage on your home, I met a delightful young man in Classic Boys. The bar was much the same then – the year was 2001 – as it is now. Twink-type boys, overloud music, even one of the same pushy, obnoxious mamasans. The young man in question captured my attention immediately with his slim, slinky good looks as he paraded on stage. We made eye contact and I got an encouraging smile. I called him over and found him pleasant to talk to and, close up, sexy as hell. An easy decision to off him – the only difficulty was refraining from drooling. He had to return to the stage for a while because he was in the show, his role being to beat the apparent shit out of another boy with a length of hose. Such resounding, convincing thwacks!

Back at my hotel we had good commercial sex. He did an excellent job of feigning interest in me and I gave my lust a thorough outing. He was a bit reluctant to be fucked but I charmed him into it. Afterwards he admitted what I already suspected, that he preferred women. Bit of a downer but not a game-breaker. I had already had one relationship (sort of) with a straight Thai guy and, in England over the years, several such. I was an experienced settler for what I could get, with low expectations. We chatted for a while – my broken Thai, his broken English – and I found myself warming to him more and more. A bright, friendly fellow. I teased him about his apparent enjoyment of beating the other guy on stage, told him he must be a sadist. 'Just show,' he said with a frown. Reminder to self: don't overdo the teasing of Thai boys.

I knew I wanted to spend more time with this young man and he raised no objections. We had a few days in Pattaya and then I took him to Kanchanaburi where we stayed in a cabin atop a raft on the river. Trees along the raised bank, gently lapping waters. Such a romantic setting for a paid carnal interlude. In leafing through photos from that time, I see that in one he is standing on the famous River Kwai bridge, wearing dark glasses, smiling, jazzily making V-signs with both hands. In another he is leaning bare-chested over the rail of our cabin giving me a somewhat thoughtful look. I feel a faint tremor of remembered lust at the sight of that oh-so-kissable mouth. I see hints of reserve in several of the photos. Was I aware of it at the time? Sure, and of his increasing reluctance when it came to the bone-rubbing event, but I chose to ignore all that. Against all reason I could feel myself becoming more and more attached to him.

Fortunately for me, my holiday came to an end before total infatuation had set in. I didn't communicate with him back in England and it was with curiosity more than anything else that I returned to his Bangkok bar on my next trip a year later. I was told that he had married and gone to live in Chiang Mai. A telephone number was provided after a bit of hunting around.

I was planning on going to Chiang Mai anyway and phoned from my hotel when I got there. The answering voice sounded abrupt, unfamiliar, and I wondered at first if this was some kind of hoax, but an arrangement to meet was made and, sure enough, my sexy young friend duly turned up at the agreed restaurant by the old-city moat. A bit fuller in the face, no doubt the result of all that home cooking by an adoring wife (yes, there were pangs of jealousy but nothing I couldn't handle).

We ate at an outside table shaded by trees and had a rather stilted conversation. The wife wasn't discussed in any detail. I can't remember what work he said he was doing – not bar work anyway! He grew wistful at one point and mentioned a dream of his I had heard before about opening his own restaurant. The hopeful look in his eyes amused me. I had never had the inclination or means to help him with this project and certainly not now. I realised, with relief, that my interest in him had faded and I didn't even bother to suggest we return to my hotel together. I was getting strong vibes that he wouldn't have agreed to do so anyway.

So we parted amicably and life moved on for both of us. This was the last occasion on which I allowed myself to become involved with a guy who was basically straight. Ever since one of the first questions I have asked any new young man is if he is gay. If he says he is not, or my own gaydar tells me he is not, I abort proceedings. Life is too short for us to make our course through it more complicated than it needs to be.

Similar Threads:

• Talking about water ... The Royal Barge Procession
• Talking Dictionary
• Talking about 'evocative': 2 more photos from up country
• Stop talking to my boyfriend....
• Thai "Talking Dictionary"?