Bangkok Boy (10 page)

A few days later, it was my turn to be shocked as Dao announced she was pregnant. She’d initially been hesitant to break the news as she was unsure how I’d react. She timidly asked me if I wanted her to keep our child. I then began to understand clearly that it was desperation rather than love that bound her to me. I felt hurt that she only stayed with me for this reason, but on consideration, the amount of love I received from her was definitely disproportionate to the amount of money I’d invested. I had entertained the thought of Dao and I one day raising a family together, but that day had come far too soon. All I could see were the endless problems that came with raising a child. I was doing well financially, but our spendthrift ways ensured we couldn’t afford to take on such a burden.

Realistically I wouldn’t be able to give up my job for the child’s sake either, especially when I was at the top of my game. In fact, I wasn’t even sure if the child was mine. For all I knew, Dao could’ve been sneaking out to meet clients while I was at work.

What I dreaded the most though was the likelihood that I’d have to concede defeat and ask either Dao’s or my own parents to rear the child for us. Raising a child in the countryside is naturally cheaper than in Bangkok, and many city-dwelling parents are forced to turn to their rural families for support when they’re not making ends meet. If the neighbours discovered that I couldn’t provide for my own child it would be a catastrophe. After selfishly considering all that I stood to lose, I became convinced that Dao had to get rid of her baby, and in the most matter-of-fact manner, told her as much.

Any glimmer of hope disappeared from her eyes, and she fell against the grubby apartment wall in floods of tears. She began howling miserably, so I squatted beside her and held her tightly to my chest. She was a million miles away though.

Exhausted, she stared vacantly ahead as I stroked her hair. Her energy levels suddenly changed though, and sorrow soon turned to anger as she struggled to break free of my embrace. She wildly began pounding her fists on my chest, demanding to know how I could be so evil. I grabbed her, terrified that if I let go, she’d leave me forever. I pleaded my case in an attempt to win her over to my way of thinking. ‘It’s been difficult to provide for two people, it’d be impossible to cope with a third hungry mouth. Think of it—we’d be poor and so would our child.’

I knew this reasoning would likely work—that the threat of poverty would terrify her. After a great deal of arguing, tears, and threats, she finally gave in. As the final threads of her resistance snapped, Dao breathed in slowly and deeply, as if to suck back in all the emotion she’d vented beforehand. I knew then that I’d never see those emotions again. She stood up, stared straight through me, and with steely determination, dressed herself, brushed her long beautiful hair and left our home without a word. She disappeared into the evening to search for the kind of medicine women take to induce a ‘natural’ abortion. I stood in the doorway, frozen but unemotional.

Abortion is illegal in Thailand, and backstreet ‘clinics’ are generally dangerous. There are ways around the law though. If a doctor agrees that giving birth could be life-threatening to the mother—and some doctors can be ‘persuaded’ to make such a diagnosis—then permission for an abortion would be granted. The other alternative is to buy large amounts of drugs that may or may not terminate the pregnancy. Dao went for the latter option.

She finally returned carrying a big bottle of
lao khao
, or ‘rice wine’, which she said was ‘to help ease the guilt and speed up the abortion.’ One hour later, she was squatting over the toilet as a stream of clots and blood poured from her. I fled the scene to stand on the busy street, nervously chain-smoking to keep any dark thoughts at bay. I knew with all my heart that it was better to not think too much about it; however, there was no escaping the fact that taking a life is a great sin in Buddhism. There was no going back though; this child was not meant to be.

When I returned, Dao looked frighteningly pale. She told me she’d successfully lost the baby; however, I recognised that something else inside of her had also died. I couldn’t heal the emotional scars she’d incurred, so I looked for ways to be of practical assistance. I soothed her with kind words while gently bathing her, assuring her all the while that everything was going to be okay.

I dried her off and brought her to our bed to rest, and while Dao fell into a fitful sleep, I snuck off into the night to buy my own
lao khao
. I did what I’d been doing for as long as I could remember—I steeped my problems in drink and refused to take responsibility.

It is only now, as I recall the event in my hospital ward, that I can see how truly wrong my decision was. Perhaps the tragedy that has befallen me in subsequent years, including the attack that has put me here, has resulted from my killing this unborn child.

It didn’t take long for our relationship to sour. Dao resented me; she accused me of coercing her into taking the child’s life. Whatever had transpired, she was no longer the person I’d fallen in love with in that Isan restaurant near Victory Monument.

Her bitterness was such that she would go out of her way to find any excuse to fight with and belittle me. We began avoiding each other, which was easy enough to do as the bar I worked in closed at 2am, so it was often close to dawn when I stumbled home. There were even nights when I didn’t go home at all. I couldn’t bear the feelings of guilt that were induced by Dao’s accusations. I began to hate her for laying the burden of responsibility on my shoulders alone—why hadn’t she taken precautions to prevent falling pregnant?

I felt defenceless. I was fleeing my troubles but had nowhere to escape to. When drunk, I tried to reclaim a sense of power by showing her who was boss. I became violent, and it needed only the drop of a hat to provoke me. It was I who paid the bills, so I insisted that she respect me. I became extremely jealous and didn’t trust her. I was terrified she’d leave me, and I obsessed over the thought of her sleeping with other men behind my back. The more inadequate I felt, the more violent I became. For this was the only way I could think of to regain the control that was slipping away from me.

In time Dao’s anger towards me transformed into fear. She was terrified of upsetting me and would tiptoe around to prevent triggering my next assault. During especially rough periods, she’d escape to her friend’s house. I’d invariably come running after her, apologising profusely and promising to never hurt her again. I was always drunk when these bad ‘incidents’ occurred, and it was only when I sobered up that I would behave like the charmingly persuasive gentleman, after which she always returned to me. Unfortunately, my destructive alter ego always appeared when I drank, and so the vicious cycle continued.

There were many incidents that contributed to our eventual break-up. When we both began to suffer from excruciating pain whenever we urinated, a venereal disease was immediately suspected. VD clinics were easily accessible so we rushed off to one to find relief. It didn’t come as much surprise when we tested positive for gonorrhoea. I suspected I’d either gotten it from one of my clients or from any of the bar girls I was seeing on the side. Dao reasoned that if I could give her gonorrhoea then it was only a matter of time before I infected her with a more serious disease. I begged her not to leave, promising that I’d be more careful in the future. Yet again she relented and stayed.

By this time stress and heavy drinking had taken its toll on me, which caused me to age incredibly. Things began to grind to a halt at work. Several slow days here and there turned into many slow months, until I was left with no choice but to ask Dao to return to work. She’d been a dancer before, and I felt that she could easily pick up her act and make us some money. I pitched the idea that she apply for hostess work at a Japanese bar in Soi Thaniya—a red-light district which catered to Japanese ex-pats and tourists. I wasn’t as jealous of her sleeping with Japanese men. Thaniya girls were considered much more sophisticated than their Patpong counterparts, so at least I could boast I was going out with a Thaniya girl. Dao was highly insulted, however, that I’d dare suggest such a thing. She hadn’t minded working to support herself in the past but she wasn’t about to allow herself be pimped out by her sweetheart. She once more sought refuge at her friend’s and I didn’t see her for days.

One night ‘Lady Luck’ smiled on me and I earned 10,000 baht from a naïve client who’d obviously just stepped off the plane. I took my ‘winnings’ to a jeweller’s and purchased a beautiful gold necklace as an act of contrition for all the pain I’d caused Dao. I knew exactly how to win her over, and she accepted the necklace with a bright smile and moved back in with me. The following day a few friends called by for a game of cards. I still had a few thousand baht from the previous night and I planned to clean them out. Dao usually regarded such visits as an excuse to get out of the apartment for a while. She claimed she didn’t want to get in the way of our male bonding. I think it was more likely she couldn’t handle our foolish behaviour. Either way it didn’t matter; I was happy to spend time with the boys. We drank and played cards until all the money and booze was depleted. Broke and extremely drunk, I decided to take the necklace to the nearest pawnshop and exchange it for cash, believing I’d make a profitable comeback. Unsurprisingly, after more beer and several rounds of
pokdeng
, I lost everything. When Dao discovered I’d gambled her necklace away she was furious, and our relationship moved another step closer to dissolving.

The last night I saw her, I returned home drunk and in high spirits. Upon entering our room, I noticed Dao sitting on the floor; her knees were drawn up to her chest as she rocked back and forth with tears streaming down her face. She’d secretly returned to her old workplace where an ugly and elderly patron had convinced her to eat with him in a hotel room. When he had her alone, he had apparently raped her. I was livid, but I felt no sympathy for her whatsoever. I’d wanted her to work as a Japanese-style hostess and she refused, calling me a pimp, yet she’d secretly gone back to work at the dance hall. I doubted this was the first time she’d done so, and I wondered how many patrons she’d actually slept with. A torrent of rage issued forth and I began yelling at her: ‘I forbade you to work at the dancehall. I don’t want you sleeping with Thais. I don’t ask much, and in return you disobey the one thing I wanted from you! I’m sick of you, you selfish bitch!’

With my pride wounded and my masculinity undermined, I fought, determined to make her hurt. I punched, kicked, and strangled as my arms and legs took on a life of their own. The neighbours must have heard us, but they didn’t call the police. Fortunately Dao’s screams, chokes, and desperate gasps for air did get someone’s attention: mine. These sounds jolted me back to reality just in time. I’d nearly killed her. The second I released my hold on her throat she fled to the safety of a friend’s house in a nearby
soi.

I was inconsolable.

Was I just another client to her? Had she stopped loving me when I was unable to provide for her?

My whole life I’d been emotionally dependent on others—from my parents, to friends, and now my girlfriend. When Dao slammed the door that evening, I had a sinking feeling it’d be for the last time. I was right; we never spoke again.

A month later I heard she’d found a new lover who was older apparently, but rich. Our relationship lasted two rocky years, which should have been ample time to recognise the bad attitude I had towards women. I believed I loved them, but I wasn’t capable of giving them the respect they deserved. I either loved or hated them according to what they did or didn’t do for me. It was all about me.

If I were to meet Dao today I’d apologise profusely. She wouldn’t forgive me though; of this I am sure. I believed my behaviour was justified; I was her provider and this entitled me to punish her for any acts of defiance, even with a punch or two. It’s clear now that what I felt for her wasn’t love, but instead a sense of ownership.

CHAPTER 10

After Dao left, I continued working in bars, but only sporadically at best. So I was forced to improvise. I found employment as a go-go dancer at a bar that was known for its highly explicit sex shows. The manager called me into his office one day and asked if I would be interested in performing for extra money. I readily agreed. He said that my
khong
was a nice size and shape, and since I wasn’t shy I’d make a great showman. There weren’t many performers back then because it took nerve to get up on stage and do the outrageous things we did.

I danced completely naked and with a fully erect penis, jerking myself rhythmically to the music. To maintain an erection, I used either a cock ring or a condom which I wrapped tightly around the base of my penis. This was often extremely painful but, as the saying goes, the show must go on. Ton and I worked together and we always performed in
phra
, or ‘male’, roles matched with
nang
, or ‘effeminate male partners’, in simulated anal sex. Once our act was finished, we roved about the audience collecting tips.

Occasionally the manager organised masturbation contests which were judged by how far or quickly contestants could shoot their semen. Before taking to the stage, the contenders were fed a hefty diet of porn to get them in the mood. When ready, the boys scrambled to their seats on stage and went for it wildly before an awe-struck audience. This kind of competition increased in popularity until it became a daily event that was used to draw crowds into bars.

At one such contest I met a ladyboy, or
kathoey.
This
kathoey
’s name was Lin and she became a long-term client. She was highly feminine with long, natural hair, fair complexion and a petite body. Her exceptional beauty won her many ladyboy beauty contests. She’d tease me by saying if I ever wanted to come and live with her, all I had to do was pick up the phone and she’d welcome me in a heartbeat. The income from shows was insufficient to live on, so, on a whim, I decided to take her up on that offer one day.

I temporarily quit the bar life and headed to Phanatnikhom in Chonburi Province to move in with her. Lin still had a penis as she hadn’t undergone genital reassignment surgery, but she did have breast implants and a wonderfully curvaceous body. Things were great for us as I had no trouble assuming the male role in bed with her. It didn’t matter that she still had a male piece because in every other way she was truly feminine. I never bothered to ask why she hadn’t undergone surgery down there; she seemed happy with the way she was, and that was good enough for me.

I worked as a waiter, and helped Lin with the household chores while she managed a beauty salon in a well-respected hotel. Lin was reasonably well-off and she never denied me anything. Being of Chinese descent, and from a very traditional family, Lin first introduced me to her pa and mae during a formal dinner. If her parents disapproved of our relationship, or of Lin’s identity, they certainly didn’t show it. They were proud of Lin, as she had a good income and reputation. Due to her frequent participation in local charity events, she’d become a well-known figure in the community. I remember that she regularly cleaned the cemetery as a mark of respect to the dead. I suspected that Lin tried to compensate for any criticisms she’d received over her nonconformity by working extra hard to succeed and ultimately gain respect.

She proudly introduced me to her ladyboy friends at parties and dance clubs. I was certain that when it came to our relationship her motives were entirely pure; she really loved me and wanted to be life partners.

We lived together in Phanatnikhom for a month before moving to Pattaya where Lin opened a restaurant. I’d like to say that we lived happily ever after, but unfortunately that was not the case. I became bored with domesticity, and once again fell into the clutches of alcohol and bad behaviour. I started going out nightly with friends no matter how much Lin begged me to stay in with her. My heart was not fully invested in our relationship, and carousing with buddies appealed more to me than spending time with my girlfriend. So we eventually broke up.

Being conceited, I thought I’d be fine in Pattaya without her. I soon found, however, that work was hard to come by and thus defaulted to the one career for which there were always vacancies. It didn’t take long to find work in Soi Pattayaland, which was known as ‘boys' town’ in the seaside resort.

The fee for sex at the time was approximately 500-1,000 baht, which was considerably less than in Bangkok. Saying this, the cost of living was also less, so I managed to make ends meet.

The manager of one bar I worked in offered me free accommodation at his premises for being a go-go boy/sex show performer. As in Bangkok, each show lasted the length of a song or two, and I earned roughly 400 baht in tips.

My roommate, a ladyboy, was a former cashier who’d also worked at the bar. She’d slept with customers on rare occasions and sadly contracted HIV. By the time I moved, she had developed AIDS and was dying. In bars, you can be a doorman, barman or DJ, but you also have the option of selling yourself. Many of the staff had been go-go boys, even when past their prime, and they had no objection to selling their bodies when the opportunity arose. Those who joined as purely regular staff, more than likely ended up either dancing or turning tricks.

My poor roommate spent her days groaning uncomfortably on a mat while struggling to maintain her weak grip on life. It wasn’t long before she would surrender to her condition. I saw the will to live seep out of her with each laboured breath. Her skin became dark and dry; she smelled terribly and was plagued by bouts of diarrhoea that turned her into little more than a skeleton. Her condition deteriorated daily and there was little I could do to help her, even if I’d wanted to. I slept in my corner, as far away from her as possible, terrified I might contract the disease. Her family finally came to collect her and I heard she died a week later. I found this experience traumatic; watching someone slowly and painfully fade away made me aware of my own mortality. AIDS isn’t exclusive to any one sector of society, but working in the sex industry certainly placed me in a high-risk category.

I’d been in Pattaya a few months when the tourist season hit its annual low. Clients became scarce and money scarcer, leaving me with little choice but to head back to Bangkok where work was easier to find. I moved in with my sister Nit for a while as I couldn’t afford a place of my own.

One day, shortly after my return to Bangkok, I went to Lumpini Park to jog and lift weights. As I walked to cool down after my workout, I noticed a woman reading a book under the shade of a large tree. I approached her and politely asked if I could have a sip of her water. She smiled and shyly nodded. She blushed as her hand brushed against mine while handing me the bottle. I asked if I could sit with her: she knew that I was coming on to her and seemed a little uncomfortable at first, but she soon became more relaxed. I found her surprisingly easy to talk to. While my interest in my ex-girlfriend Dao was chiefly driven by lust, with this girl, I found my heart seemed to flutter while talking to her. She introduced herself as Nuan, and although she was a tad plain for my liking, she was very kind and friendly. Dao had delivered a crippling blow to my male ego, but Nuan represented the hope that this self-confidence could be restored. I fantasised that we were two loners made for each other, and were destined to be together. Our meeting wasn’t the work of pure chance: it was fate.

I lit a cigarette and, to my surprise, Nuan asked if she could have one too. As I lit it for her, our hands touched a second time, and Nuan did not pull away. Feeling emboldened, I took her hands firmly in mine and began making my intentions clear. I could tell she was flattered by my advances. We were overstepping cultural boundaries by being so openly affectionate on our first meeting. As a go-go boy, I was naturally a fast mover, yet it seemed it was Nuan who was eliciting these responses in me, not my desire to earn a few thousand baht.

She had the most melancholy eyes I’d ever seen. They had a magnetic pull from which my eyes found it impossible to look away. We quickly opened up to one another and exchanged thoughts, touches, and phone numbers. I imagined she was a damsel in distress, and I was the hero who’d save the day. Although I revealed a good deal of personal information, I lied about my profession by saying I worked as the doorman of a dance club in Silom Soi 2—a well-known gay area.

I asked Nuan to come back to my room, feeling confident that she’d sleep with me. I thought that this would strengthen our tie to one another for I sensed she was the real deal.

After we’d had sex, the thought of Nuan leaving filled me with dread. I couldn’t bear being alone anymore. So I asked her to stay permanently and she readily agreed. At the time, Nit was visiting her boyfriend’s family as they were soon to be wed. When they returned home later that evening I introduced them to Nuan, casually mentioning that she’d moved in with us. Nit rebuked me for letting my horniness be the reason for bringing a stranger into her home. Her anger may have been justified, but Nit went too far when she called Nuan a whore. I knew she’d lost all respect for me long ago, but to call my new lover such names was outrageous. I barked at Nit to keep her foul mouth shut and curtly told her we were on our way. In record time, I packed my belongings and stormed out of the house. We headed for the room Nuan shared with her friend and there, likewise, she gathered her possessions. With bags in hand, we set off to find accommodation. By late evening we’d rented a 100-baht-a-day room in a guesthouse. I confidently told Nuan to give up work because, as her man, I intended to provide her a good life.

I was 31 years of age when Nuan and I became a couple, which—by go-go boy terms—is pretty much over the hill. Customers bought me less frequently than they had in my heyday. I not only attributed this to age though, for I was convinced Dao had cursed me for forcing her to abort the baby and had therefore cast some sort of vengeful spell on me. I became terrified that the bad karma caused by the abortion was going to cause my being reincarnated as a lesser life form. Perhaps I’d come back as a mosquito, forced to spend its days avoiding being swatted; or a pig awaiting slaughter; or—worst of all—a foetus that was bound for abortion.

So when Nuan told me she was pregnant, I insisted she keep the baby, and never even discussed the option of terminating it. I’d grown very fond of Nuan and had no desire to lose her. She’d once worked in the catering section of a hotel, and the manner in which she kept our room clean as well as her ability to prepare delicious meals for me each evening more than substantiated this claim. I knew then she’d make a good partner and parent.

It was only a matter of time before Nuan also discovered what I really did for a living. She asked to accompany me to work one evening and, since I could no longer hide my secret, I agreed. She was shocked to discover I was a go-go boy.

‘I don’t understand why you lied to me!’ she fiercely snapped.

‘Don’t make a scene. Had I told you the truth, would you honestly have stayed with me, huh?’

A long and uncomfortable silence followed. Both of us were waiting for the other to break it—to either make things right or close the door on our relationship forever. Nuan would be the one to break it.

‘I’d have walked away without a second thought . . .’ She touched her growing belly and sighed, ‘. . . but it is too late now. This baby needs a father and I want to do right for my child.

‘Promise me that you’ll find alternative work before its birth and to always be careful with clients.’

I solemnly swore and touched her stomach as if to pass the vow on to our unborn child. She wanted to protect the baby from disease as much as she could. I knew Nuan genuinely loved me because, child or no child, she was the type of woman who wouldn’t stay if the reasons weren’t right. From that evening on Nuan would meet me on the nights I wasn’t bought by a client, and we would walk home together hand in hand until she was too heavily pregnant.

Nuan could handle me sleeping with male clients; however, she became jealous when I was bought by females. But in time she also came to terms with this aspect of my work. Her acceptance boded well for my professional life, and customers once again began buying me on a regular basis. It was as though the life force growing in Nuan’s belly was somehow overriding Dao’s curse.

While Nuan was heavily pregnant, Papa John asked me to stay with him at a hotel on Surawong Road for a few weeks. He thought I was gay and had no idea I had a pregnant partner. I was travelling back and forth between his hotel and my room. I couldn’t stand living with John round the clock and would find excuses to spend time with my sweetheart. One evening I returned to Nuan in an especially jubilant mood as my pockets were bulging with the money John had given me. Watching TV together, Nuan mentioned she was feeling pain in her lower back. Her due date was still ten days off so we were hesitant about rushing off to Chula Hospital. However by 4am, Nuan’s contractions began in earnest, convincing me that she was in labour. I ran downstairs to hail a taxi while Nuan dressed and packed her bag. Taxi drivers were refusing us because they were scared Nuan would give birth in their cabs. It was too early in the morning to get a bus, so we had no choice but to walk to the hospital. Eventually, a kind taxi driver saw us struggling along and kindly took us to our destination.

I was tired, excited, fearful, and overwhelmed all at the same time. With the money John had given me, I booked a VIP room for Nuan. The nurses very nearly sent us away saying that first-time babies are often overdue. But we refused to budge and so they had to give in. Our stubbornness paid off, as after a long labour Nuan gave birth to our son the following morning. I wasn’t present at the birth though; Thai men generally prefer not to witness such events. Instead, I anxiously paced back and forth outside the labour room. And then the news came—I was a father. I didn’t know how to react. Suddenly an incredible responsibility had been bestowed upon me.