day of Chris’s stay in Thailand, he gave me his address. He asked me to write and promised to send me a monthly allowance. I felt I’d hit the jackpot, 10,000 to 20,000 baht in exchange for a few letters would be splendid. Unfortunately, as fate, or rather my stupidity, would have it, I lost Chris’s card during an outrageously drunken night on the town. I still kick myself when I think how foolish I was to lose his address. His money would have secured me a good future. I was certainly neither Chris’s first dependent nor would I be his last; experience has taught me that these kinds of relationships never last. It would only have been a matter of time before someone else replaced me in Chris’s heart and I hope, for Chris’s sake, that it was someone who loved him.
Chris was the first gay man who treated me with dignity. I hadn’t a clue about the gay scene even though it was clearly thriving in the place I resided. I had several Pattaya friends who became go-go boys after losing big in gambling houses; I was continuously amazed at the amount of money they had and the ease with which they made it. They could lose huge sums one night only to return the following evening full of zeal and with their fortunes replenished. Unlike today, there were only a few go-go bars in Pattaya at the time. During one of my many periods of unemployment, I befriended several go-go boys who asked me to work a scam by helping them steal money from their clients in hotel rooms. Many of these tricksters were actually straight and would pair up with working girls to operate as a team. The more I hung around with go-go boys and listened to them brag about their wealth, the more I considered becoming one. On the surface, they were the picture of respectability—they dressed well, ate at nice places, and seemed to have bottomless wallets. I’d never been in a male go-go bar and had no understanding of how they operated. Therefore, I had certain reservations about joining their ranks.
I eventually decided to leave Pattaya altogether; I was done with the city. I didn’t make a fortune like my father had hoped, and I wouldn’t be returning home a hero. I rarely sent money to my parents and the total sum of my contribution was mere pittance in comparison with the amount I’d blown. I was still the drunkard gambler I’d always been. The only lesson I’d learned from my stay in Pattaya was that I knew, without doubt, I didn’t want to work long, boring hours, day after day, in order to collect miniscule wages from what I considered to be snooty bosses.
During the long restless bus ride back to Sisaket, I found my thoughts continually returning to the idea of becoming a go-go boy. I already had some experience at sleeping with men for money and I reasoned that such a life could provide me with an escape route to a brighter future. My greed seemed to override any rational or moral consideration. I’d made approximately 1,000 baht a month working as a waiter; a go-go boy could earn at least the same amount in a day. I concluded that the insanity lay in not becoming one. I knew I’d have to participate in some disagreeable activities, just like when I gave my body to my teacher and Chris; but it’d be nothing in comparison to the humiliating and unrewarding work of a waiter or cleaner.
With each passing kilometre on the way to Sisaket, I felt these thoughts beginning to take root in my heart and mind.
CHAPTER 5
Upon arriving home, my parents greeted me with huge smiles. The fact that I’d managed to support myself in Pattaya for the last two years led them to expect the return of a new-and-improved Chai. Of course, they didn’t know about my appalling work ethic, or the fact that I’d been fired from countless jobs; nor the kind of people I regularly associated with, most of them not impartial to gambling, drinking and prostitution. Not that I was innocent of these vices myself.
My parents thanked me for the pitifully infrequent sums
Chris was the first gay man who treated me with dignity. I hadn’t a clue about the gay scene even though it was clearly thriving in the place I resided. I had several Pattaya friends who became go-go boys after losing big in gambling houses; I was continuously amazed at the amount of money they had and the ease with which they made it. They could lose huge sums one night only to return the following evening full of zeal and with their fortunes replenished. Unlike today, there were only a few go-go bars in Pattaya at the time. During one of my many periods of unemployment, I befriended several go-go boys who asked me to work a scam by helping them steal money from their clients in hotel rooms. Many of these tricksters were actually straight and would pair up with working girls to operate as a team. The more I hung around with go-go boys and listened to them brag about their wealth, the more I considered becoming one. On the surface, they were the picture of respectability—they dressed well, ate at nice places, and seemed to have bottomless wallets. I’d never been in a male go-go bar and had no understanding of how they operated. Therefore, I had certain reservations about joining their ranks.
I eventually decided to leave Pattaya altogether; I was done with the city. I didn’t make a fortune like my father had hoped, and I wouldn’t be returning home a hero. I rarely sent money to my parents and the total sum of my contribution was mere pittance in comparison with the amount I’d blown. I was still the drunkard gambler I’d always been. The only lesson I’d learned from my stay in Pattaya was that I knew, without doubt, I didn’t want to work long, boring hours, day after day, in order to collect miniscule wages from what I considered to be snooty bosses.
During the long restless bus ride back to Sisaket, I found my thoughts continually returning to the idea of becoming a go-go boy. I already had some experience at sleeping with men for money and I reasoned that such a life could provide me with an escape route to a brighter future. My greed seemed to override any rational or moral consideration. I’d made approximately 1,000 baht a month working as a waiter; a go-go boy could earn at least the same amount in a day. I concluded that the insanity lay in not becoming one. I knew I’d have to participate in some disagreeable activities, just like when I gave my body to my teacher and Chris; but it’d be nothing in comparison to the humiliating and unrewarding work of a waiter or cleaner.
With each passing kilometre on the way to Sisaket, I felt these thoughts beginning to take root in my heart and mind.
CHAPTER 5
Upon arriving home, my parents greeted me with huge smiles. The fact that I’d managed to support myself in Pattaya for the last two years led them to expect the return of a new-and-improved Chai. Of course, they didn’t know about my appalling work ethic, or the fact that I’d been fired from countless jobs; nor the kind of people I regularly associated with, most of them not impartial to gambling, drinking and prostitution. Not that I was innocent of these vices myself.
My parents thanked me for the pitifully infrequent sums
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