Gay Boy Thailand

Bjorn and Geng sat in a taxi on Sukhumvit road. It was 8am and traffic had not moved for 45 minutes.

- I told you we should have taken the Skytrain, said Geng.
- But then we would have to change twice. Taxi, skytrain, and taxi again.
- It would have been quicker.
- This is hopeless. Let’s get out and walk.
- Do you know where it is?
- I think so.

A while later the two arrived at a large office building.
- Wow, said Geng. – Is all this the Swedish embassy?
- Not quite. They have an office on the 21st floor.
- Only an office? Why don’t they have a real embassy like America?
- We are a small country.

On the 21th floor Bjorn and Geng saw a sign saying “Royal Swedish Embassy”. An arrow pointed left. It said “Consular Section”.
- That’s where we are going, said Bjorn.
- Who are all these people?
- They are waiting.

The corridor was filled with Thais and Swedes who sat or stood or rested up against the wall. Some had babies. Some held envelopes with documents. An armed Thai policeman stood guard by the door.
- Such a long line, said Geng. – And they are not even open yet.
- This is the line to get a number, said Bjorn.
- And then?
- And then we wait in line for the application papers.
- And then?
- When we have filled out the papers we wait again. If we are lucky we can speak to them before lunch.
- There is no Swedish staff here.
- They are in the back office.

Five hours later, after much standing and sitting and after Bjorn had read all the old Swedish newspapers, and after a lunch in the soi which was not bad, it was finally their turn.
- Number 178, said Bjorn. – That’s us.
- Interview room B, said a Thai woman.
Bjorn and Geng entered the small room.
- I would not call it cozy, said Geng.

A Swedish woman in her 60s came in. She wore large eyeglasses and a yellow silk scarf.
- Hello Mr. Svensson, said the woman. – I am Olga.
- Good afternoon, said Bjorn. – This is my partner Geng, who I want to apply for.
- He can wait outside please, said Olga.
- But Geng speaks excellent English.
- Outside please, said Olga again.
Geng left the room.

Olga looked at the papers.
- Gay partnership and visa? asked Olga.
- Yes, said Bjorn.
- The processing time is four months.
- Four months? We had planned to move sooner than that.
- You need to be registered partners. Otherwise the application will be denied.
- OK. Can we marry here at the embassy?
- Sorry. That is only for traditional marriage. You have to do it in Sweden.
- But Geng can’t go to Sweden without a visa.
- I see the problem, said Olga. – But those are the rules.
- You mean Geng can’t get married to me without a visa, and he can’t get a visa without being married to me first?
- That’s correct.
- But how are we supposed to do this? How do other people do it?
- It would be easier if you choose a partner who already lived in Sweden or another European Union country.
- Well excuse me, but my partner is Thai.
- Yes, said Olga.
She lit a cigarette.
- I thought this embassy was a smoke-free zone, said Bjorn.
- It is, said Olga and blew smoke across the table.

- Don’t worry about it, said Olga. – The system is doing you a favour.
- What do you mean?
- What do I mean? I have seen hundreds of people like you. See the parade of bargirls out there? And the gullible men?
- Gullible?
- Gay or straight. It is all the same. They bring home a Thai boy or a girl and as soon as the Thai gets a Swedish passport she is out the door. Or in this case he.
- Geng is not a barboy.
- It doesn’t matter.
- This is a real relationship. We have lived together here in Bangkok for years.
- Good for you, said Olga.
- But now we want to move to Sweden.
- The lure of a European Union passport, said Olga. – The gay boys often end up in London, Amsterdam or Berlin once they have dumped the sucker who brought them to Sweden and paid for everything.
- They are not all like that.
- More or less they are, said Olga.
- What is your name? More than Olga?
- Johanson. Why?
- I want to report you for your racist attitudes. You can’t stamp a whole nation as gold-diggers, frauds and sluts.
- Which is what they are. The hi-so ones are just more expensive to run. I have seen hundreds of Thai-Swedish relationships. 95% of them end in disaster. If you are rich it might last a bit longer, till they find someone richer.
- I will write a complaint about you. What you say is demeaning to Thais.
- Go ahead. I have six months left till I retire. What are they going to do? Send me to Mongolia? By the time the ethics committee in Stockholm is finished with your letter I am out of here.
- Geng and I have a genuine relationship. He is one in a million.
- Hahaha! One in a million! I heard that before.
- I don’t understand why you are so negative.
- I had enough of this place. I say it as it is. You like Thais? Love them and leave them. Don’t bring them home.
- The decision is made.
- Well Mr. Svensson, if you really want to have your fingers burned you can bring photos of you and your angel that prove the length of your relationship, along with any bills or receipts you might have that prove the same. Travel together, that sort of thing.
- Thank you, said Bjorn.
- Mark my words, said Olga. – Don’t tell me I never warned you.