Shamelessmack in Thailand and around

December 2008:

Sometimes one has to let memories be and not try to revisit places that, based on all reports, have gone past their glory days. My Way in Bangkok is one such place.

10 pm. I stood at the doorway for a while before someone came out from the back room to greet me. On my right was a Thai (or Asian tourist) customer sitting with a half-naked, lanky lad.

The captain (the guy who came out) spoke reasonable English and invited me to sit down. On one of those hard and high wooden benches, carved in traditional style, that have been there since like 20 years ago. He proudly pointed out how the place had just been remodelled. Indeed the floor tiles looked new, but that was about it. I couldn’t see anything modern about the place. Even more disappointing, the stage and grab poles (as I remember them from I don’t know when) have all gone. This means no more gogo “dancing”. This is now a host bar, I suppose.

As the captain took my drink order, two more boys emerged. One took up position behind the bar, the other, as thin and lanky as the one sitting with the customer on my right, hesitated for a while before being invited by the captain to sit with me.

For what? I don’t know. This guy didn’t speak a word of English, and I had to struggle with my little Thai to avoid complete and awkward silence. His T-shirt hung loose over what must be an emaciated frame. There was nothing in the least appealing about him. He didn’t even remove his shirt for a fondle like his mate did for the other guest.

Ten minutes later, I paid up (100 baht for a drink) , tipped the boy and left. The Thai/Asian guy on my right was still there, still fondling his skeletal companion.

*

Fifteen, twenty years ago, My Way was a buzz of activity. In its tiny space of 15 – 20 square metres, there were always at least 5 or 6 customers. It was one of the first gay bars in the area along with Tawan, Barbiery and Twlight. Its specialty was the energetic way the boys danced, grabbing the poles, lifting themselves up to the ceiling and bouncing off from there. That meant that the “type” My Way had were mostly the lean, athletic kind (similar to the ones you’d see today at Jupiter).

I’ve given them a fair share of my bar fines.

One memorable one was this guy, only about 160 cm tall but with taut, hard muscles, who attempted to do the same acrobatic thing while showering with me, but in the process, brought the the shower curtain and its rail down.

Another one was less memorable for anything he did in the bedroom, but more for what my travelling companion told me the morning after.

“Do you know, last night, the boy you took from My Way came back to the bar in 45 minutes?” he said to me at breakfast, with a tone of rebuke for my being wasteful with money. If I offed someone, in his view, I was expected to extract the maximum time out of him, better yet, if the boy could be made to cum twice.

Needless to say, I couldn’t possibly abide such a character, so I never travelled with him again.

Actually, I thought my friend was exaggerating, for by my estimation, it was not 45 minutes, but more like an hour. After the boy had left my hotel, I had looked at my watch wondering if there was enough time to go to another bar (there wasn’t). But the thought that really struck me was: What was this friend of mine still doing in My Way an hour after I had decided to leave with a boy? Was he extracting the maximum amount of time in a bar for the price of a drink?

*

Sadly, those happy (?) days are now history. At the rate it’s going, My Way is headed there too. For location, see Directions Thaniya area.