Gay Boy Thailand

I remembered the two gay boys in the market. They worked there and sometimes they walked around with arms around each other’s shoulders.

Both had new haircuts since last time I saw them. One had gone short, while the other one kept it quite long, which made him look like a diva.

The two boys greeted me warmly. I had forgotten how cute they were.

They were not a couple, but gay sisters. I felt like inviting one or both of them to an evening of high culture in my room. I know how to give boys a good time. My books in classic Greek, for example, are sure to make them exited.

First I tried my luck with the short haired one. He didn’t speak English. I pointed and used signed language.
- OK, said the boy.
I began walking and expected the boy to follow me. But an older woman was watching us. A sharp look from her and the boy stopped. He looked disappointed.

I recognised this stern woman. She was one of the Philippinas who had formed a wall of hostile stares last time I had flirted with a candidate in this place.

The men had been all smiles and nod nod wink wink while the women appeared to be gay bashers. Strange.

Since then I spoke to a man who used to date pinoy boys in America. He said Philippinos were like that. The boys were afraid of their sisters and mothers finding out they had boyfriends. They were not afraid of their brothers and fathers.

—

I gave up the short haired guy and shamelessly tried to chat up his friend instead. The friend was beautiful and more feminine. This one was either seriously gay or a ladyboy. I called him the fem boy.

The fem boy spoke no English either, and he didn’t understand what I wanted. I left the market empty-handed.

—

Ten minutes later I was pestered by movie sellers on the street. I remembered one of them. He had been involved when a group of young men had decided to visit me, but didn’t, and one of them had tried to help himself to my mobile phone. This pirate was one of the less scary ones. He offered me boys in the flesh or in movies. This gave me an idea.
- You can help me, I said.
- With what?
- There is a boy in the market, I said. - He doesn’t speak English.
- Which market? asked the vendor and pointed in different directions.
- That one.
- I can’t go there.
- Why not?
- Too much police.

Police? I didn’t belive him. Even if he was a seller of pirated movies there was no law against him taking a break and walking around in the town. I suspected he had a different reason to be reluctant. Maybe the market was in a different territory and belonged to a rival mafia.

Next I spoke to an older man who also sold pirate videos. I explained my plan to him. Could he be my translator please?
- What do you want from the boy? asked the man.
- He can come to my room.
- You like that?
- Yes.
- I can get girls for you.
- Not interested.
- Why?
- I like boys. Not girls.
- Only boys? Why?
- Up to me.
- Sorry.

This man had no issues with the mafia and he followed me to the market. He spoke to the short haired gay guy, whom he seemed to know. I explained what the fem boy looked like and some kids ran to find him. He arrived, clearly pleased with being at the centre of attention.

The man explained that I wanted to invite him to my room. The candidate was happy and willing and we were all set for an evening of high culture.

—

But some girls objected. As later translated to me by the man, they had said:
- Have you no decency? You are selling the boy!
- I am only translating since he can’t speak Ingrish, said the man.
To me he said: - Let’s go. Too many people here are looking and talking.

We left the market, the chaperone translator, the fem boy and I.

But there were more people coming along. The other gay boy had put his arms around his buddy in their trademark way and refused to let go. And a girl was coming too. And some other people.

- Only the boy please, I said.
- I told them already, said the man.
- I don’t want to walk around town with all these people, I said.
- I know, said the man and chided our followers.

When we came out on the main street the group had swelled to nearly ten people.
- Why are they doing this? I asked. - Do they want money?
- It is his sister, said the man.
- What is her problem?
- She tells him that you will eat his head.
- Excuse me?
- Eat his head. In the Philippines we have a problem with foreign tourists who eat people.
- Really? The foreigners do that?
- Yes.
- But they know me from earlier.
- Yes. The boy wants to come. He says you are good, not dangerous.

I sat down under a tree on a traffic island.
- I don’t want to be seen with this crowd following us, I said as locals stared at us.
- The sister is difficult, said the man. - But we should not stay here. Too many people looking and talking.
- They like to look and talk here, I said.

We walked to a more quiet side street.
- Now there are only four following us, I said.
- Now there are only two, I said a while later.
- They are watching us from a distance, said the man.
- He is beautiful, I said about my candidate.
The fem boy was walking along, still with his arms around his buddy.
- Beautiful like a girl, said the man.
- Is he a ladyboy?
- The sister says he is a boy.
- How old is he?
- Nineteen, said the man.
- Twentyone, said the sister in a sudden outburst of English.
The boy held his fingers up. Ten plus ten.
- How old is he really? I asked.

I didn’t get any reply as the main group of our followers caught up with us. The man argued with them.
- This is not going to work, I said.
- No, said the man.
- I can’t go to the hotel with this bunch following us.
- I can find a girl for you, said the man.
- No thanks.
- I have a boy in a room. Same age as this one.
- Where is the room?
- Over there.
- You want to take me to X street?

The man realised I was on my guard and stopped talking. X street was where I once had been promised no end of pretty boys in rooms, only to find myself alone with an over-the-hill tranny. It was also known as the street where wallets disappeared mysteriously in short time hotels.

- You can buy videos from me, said the man. - Blue movies.
- I will rather give you money, I said.
I gave the man 50 ringit.
- Ten more? asked the man.
I rolled my eyes. The man shut up.

The fem boy looked at me with his large, sensitive eyes.
- I guess it is not your fault either, I said.
I gave him 50 ringit too.

The rest of my self-appointed entourage held their hands out. Reward them for sabotaging my cultural evening? No way. They were at fault and I gave them nothing.

Thus we parted. At least two of us were satisfied even if I was not. I guessed the sister was happy as well. She had kept her over-obvious gay brother from doing anything gay. This seemed to be the purpose of her life.