Gay Boy Thailand

Technically Chalerm is home this weekend, but I hardly see him. He sleeps all day. Yesterday he must have spent 18 hours in bed.

Then he got up and went to work in Farang D’s office.

I have spoken to Chalerm three times. First was when he came home Thursday evening, wet from the rain. The second time was Friday, when he asked for 1500 baht for yet another dentist appointment. The last time was today, when I was sleeping and he came to give me a kiss and a cuddle. One must be grateful for the small things.

—

I am in a new Internet cafe. I call it Upstairs since it is not at street level. I have to go up the stairs. I was here once before, but hordes of noisy school kids made me give up. But coming back later I realised the kid mayhem is only after school, at other times the place is sane.

For some reason there is a good percentage of gay boys in this Internet cafe. I have identified three candidates. They are White Shirt, Yellow Shirt and Black Shirt.

White Shirt is probably gay but too young. I have put him on the Future Talent Watch list.

Yellow Shirt is another ladyboy-in-training. Actually I don’t think he needs much training, just give him high heels and feathers and he is ready to go.

This leaves Black Shirt. He is flirty. I shall investigate what his inclination is and if he could bring a shaparone and come over to tea.

—

I had been out to eat and went home in a taxi at 1am. It had been raining for hours. At a red light a child stood selling flowers. It was a small boy and he looked cold, wet and miserable.

I don’t normally buy anything from these street sellers. I sometimes see them with their extended families. If I buy from them, do I only support the expoitative way the parents put their children out to work on the street at all hours?

Then there is the pressure to buy again if I buy once. I see these people almost every day. I don’t want to buy flowers every day. If they think I am soft they will single me out for special attention, standing outside my taxi with begging stares.

But I felt so sorry for the one who stood there alone in the rain, shivering. He had half a dozen garlands left. I had heard these children only can go home after all are sold. In this weather there were few cars and people didn’t want to roll down their windows in the rain. He could risk spending the night on the street.

The kid came over to my taxi as it stood waiting at red light. The taxi driver’s body language turned negative.

I rolled down the window and held out a 20 baht bill to the kid. He looked at it and said:
- 30 baht!
- But normal price is 10, I said.
- Yes it is 10 baht, said the taxi driver.
- 30 baht, said the kid.

I rolled the window up again. I thought I had been generous to offer him double price. But he didn’t accept double price, he wanted tripple price. That was just too cheeky.

- Is this what I get for trying to be nice? I asked.
- They know you are a rich farang, said the driver.

The light turned green. As the taxi left I saw the kid stand by the side of the road, giving me an angry look.