Gay Boy Thailand

I went to have dinner with Farang A and Farang B at the restaurant Farang C runs. Farang B called to cancel. He had met a new Thai boy. The new boy is the love of his life, or at least the love of this weekend, whatever turns out to be more convenient.

Farang B is a tourist. He must make the most of it while he is in Thailand. Why can’t Farang B bring his boy conquests along? I think he is afraid I might try to steal his boys. But after more than a decade and countless love-of-his-life candidates I have yet to desire any of his boys. His taste and mine are different.

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Then Farang A and I went to the Silom area, where we ran into Farang D who was sitting in the soi. I said it was too hot outside so we ate inside. We had to eat something more since the meals at Farang C’s restaurant were only half the size they used to be.

Farang E, F, G and H sat there. They were friends of Farang A. I said hello to them.

Later Farang I and Farang J came too. They were partners in crime, out on patrol together.

Farang A and C and I gossiped about Farang K and Farang L, who were not present. This is the basic rule of gossiping, we have to talk about someone who is not there.

(I mention Farangs A to L so you will think I know lots of people in Bangkok. )

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Farang A and I went to a bar. I made a fuss about where to sit because the sound was loud and I wanted away from the speakers.

I was impressed with how pimp-ish the manager looked. He had three shirt buttons open. His shirt was white and the suit was black. Where did he get that gold medallion from? Is there a universal dress code for pimps? Maybe a Pimping Monthly magazine?

It started nicely enough, with all the boys on stage so I could watch the cute ones. But then the darn show started and some straight boys with tattoos came on stage. Where do they find these characters?

I lasted only five minutes before I excused myself, left 250 baht with Farang A to cover the drink and ran out of the place.

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I went to Patpong. I had a craving for Western food. Foodland had something called Parma Ham Home Made In Thailand. Made in Thailand? Come on. Parma ham is from Parma in Italy. And how can it be Home Made when it comes in industrial sealed vacuum packages?

I bought The Economist and two bottles of Splash and a French bread and butter.

Back home Chalerm was sleeping. The Thai Parma Ham turned out to be edible, but nothing more. The real thing is better. I heard the Italians feed their pigs special herbs to bring out the taste. (I mention this so you will think I am a gourmet who knows something about Italian pork. )

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I ended the day sitting at the computer, uploading shirtless boy photos for your future enjoyment. I played music on the Mac. “The boys of summer” by Don Henley. And “Father figure” by George Michael.