by Chai Pinit
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.
Here we were at last, face to face with our precious little boy whom we named Chuan. I felt sorry for the poor thing. We weren’t ready for his arrival and so had no clothes, bottles or any other baby gear. It’s a bad omen to buy such things before the birth, so being superstitious we were unprepared.
Chuan was an adorable baby, and very handsome. But I was careful to ward off evil spirits by loudly proclaiming that he looked ‘hideous and ugly’. By doing this I tried to fool the evil spirits so they would leave him alone. After the hullabaloo of the birth, I rushed off to Prathunam to buy baby clothes. Despite being over-excited, sleepy, and clueless, I managed to get five matching sets, albeit with the help of a shop assistant. I figured that would be plenty for the time being. When Nuan saw the clothes she laughed so hard the nurses warned her she might rupture her stitches. Apparently, the clothes I’d bought were more likely to fit a three-year-old than a three-day-old. She joked that I was trying to bury our son in an avalanche of oversized clothes. We ended up chuckling away and I confessed I was a little inexperienced to say the least. Nuan advised me to stick with moneymaking and to leave the baby rearing to her.
Papa John eventually discovered my family secret. He confronted me as to why I was always running off on him, and I had no choice but admit that I had a partner and newborn son. He took the news surprisingly well. I was certain he’d feel angry or cheated but instead he asked to meet Nuan and Chuan and from then on he became a member of our small family. He was genuinely happy for us, he bought toys and gifts, and Nuan would often wrap Chuan up and take him to visit Uncle John at his hotel. He continued to support us and made our lives a great deal easier.
Buddhists believe the process of dying begins with the very first breath we take. I also believe that every birth is counterbalanced by a death, and vice versa. This proved to be the case with my family.
Shortly after Chuan was born, my brother Chamnan called to tell me that on their recent trip home, Choke was killed in an accident. Apparently, they had been drinking and joyriding with two mutual friends. Choke was squatting on the flat floorboard of the scooter John bought him while his two friends were sitting on the seat; Chamnan followed behind on his bike. They were racing like daredevils and none of them were wearing helmets or protective gear. It was crazy behaviour, but they were on quiet country roads and just assumed they’d be safe.
At that precise moment a teacher from our village was showing his wife how to drive his pick-up truck, but the woman lost control of the truck and went careening straight into Choke’s scooter. Choke’s body was tossed into the air like a rag doll and came crashing down onto the vehicle’s bonnet. He hit it with such force his stomach burst open. He died upon impact. Chamnan, who witnessed the entire incident, was so traumatised he began vomiting uncontrollably. To this day, he is unable to erase the images of Choke’s death, who was only 26 years old, from his mind.
Devastated by the loss, I diverted my energies into caring for my son. My parents and other siblings must have followed my example and flocked to see our new baby. I was brave for my son’s sake, yet it was difficult to find distraction from the guilt I felt over Choke’s death. After all, it was I who first introduced him to John, and it was John who bought Choke the scooter. If John hadn’t become my brother’s patron then he would’ve never met such an end. It was irrational to blame myself I know, but grief distorts logic. Karma works in mysterious ways. Why had this tragedy befallen Choke and not me? I can only think that I must have earned some excellent merit in past incarnations, and only these had kept me alive. John was so distraught over the loss of Choke—his favourite boy—that he
distanced himself from the rest of us.
After Choke’s death, Chamnan came to me for a chat. He hesitatingly said, ‘I want to change careers, Chai. I’m done with selling my body; I’m sick and tired of the vicious cycle of being broke, earning, and then blowing it all, only to find myself broke yet again. I believe the money we earn from trading our bodies is cursed; it seems to have no value and if we’re honest, we’ll never be prosperous this way!’
I was incredulous. How could he leave his work and —most importantly—desert me? Especially after we’d lost our brother?
He patiently continued. ‘I miss country life, brother. I want to invest the sweat of my body in something productive, something that will make me value what I earn and make me proud of my achievements! I’ve a job opening in Prachinburi at a shrimp farm. They provide accommodation, food, and yes, the salary is small, but it’s regular.’
When I found out how much he’d earn, I exploded in a fit of rage. ‘You’re a fool to go to the backwoods of some nowhere province for only 5,000 baht a month even if the job’s perks include a bit of food and a roof over your head!’
His final words broke my heart, for I knew they conveyed that he no longer respected me. ‘Chai, I can’t follow in your footsteps any longer. You’ve lost your way and I can’t lose mine; I can’t let you take what little opportunities I’ve left from me. If you were smart you’d join me!’
So with that, he left the sex-for-sale scene and I’d lost the love of two brothers.
I was devastated, but tried to remind myself of those who remained with me and the responsibility I had towards them. I had a loyal and understanding partner, and a young son who set my life ablaze with joy. I felt better for the fact that there were two people who desperately wanted me in their lives; and this always helped when the sadness of missing my brothers threatened to overshadow me. My financial situation was reasonable and I handed most of my earnings to Nuan, just as I had Dao; the difference being, Nuan was thrifty and so we didn’t live beyond our means.
CHAPTER 11
I was unable to keep my promise to stop working as a prostitute on becoming a father and I kept dancing and hustling for several years afterwards.
It became increasingly difficult though to find clients in Silom Soi 2 so I opted for a change of scenery. I therefore moved to a very popular gay bar in Soi Twilight. Although I would never hear from Papa John again, it didn’t take me long to find a new patron. He was an American called Thomas. We hit it off amazingly well and he soon asked me to be his boy. He shared a house with several farang friends to save on rent. I moved in as both the resident houseboy and a tourist guide and showed them around the usual sight-seeing destinations. The house was spacious and nicely decorated, but Thomas was not as generous as I’d hoped. He tried to keep me on a leash with an allowance of only 10,000 baht a month, which simply wasn’t enough to raise a family on. Of course, I didn’t tell him I had a young family and he most likely thought this amount of money was more than adequate for one person.
Leading a double life and travelling back and forth between Thomas and Nuan took its toll and I became increasingly stressed. I was trying my best to make more money especially considering how precarious my ‘houseboy’ position was.
Thomas didn’t like me working as a go-go dancer and was eager to make our relationship exclusive. So I was forced to sneak out of the house either to go to work or to visit my family while Thomas was at work. I managed to visit Nuan and my son at least twice a week to give them what money I could.
We decided to let Chuan’s hair grow and by the time he started preschool, he looked like Mowgli from The Jungle Book. His dark locks were always immaculately clean and he was always well-groomed for Nuan was an excellent mother. He attracted admiring stares wherever we went, and a wealthy Chinese silk-shop owner even went so far as to ask us to give Chuan to him. The tao kae, or ‘rich Chinese businessman’ and his wife desperately wanted a boy to carry on their family name. Although he had three grown daughters, all of whom were successful doctors, it was not enough for them. I reckon the tao kae was also attracted to my boy because I’m half-Chinese. For the Chinese, sons are treated with reverence, and Nuan and I knew that, had we given Chuan up, he would have led a very comfortable life. The tao kae even asked us to allow a doctor of physiognomy to examine Chuan. The theory behind physiognomy is based upon the idea that a person’s physical appearance, particularly their face, can give a sin sae insight into his or her character and personality. Nuan and I didn’t mind the sin sae examining our baby because we were more than a little curious as to what he’d say. Every inch of Chuan was examined, even down to the shape and length of his fingers. Eventually, the sin sae announced that Chuan would be an auspicious addition to the tao kae’s family.
At first, Nuan and I were flattered that such a respectable family wanted to adopt our child but their pleas were incessant and eventually became annoying. Nuan finally refused to listen to them anymore. She informed them politely that Chuan was her son and that she would raise him, however difficult it may be.
Although this type of adoption is not common practice in Patpong, it does happen. Bar girls, for example, would sometimes offer their children to bus-iness owners or other prospective buyers but were mostly turned down. Considering the number of unplanned pregnancies, there are plenty of children on offer. But certain ‘good people’ generally fear that a child born to a prostitute or to any bad blood might bring misfortune to their household. I completely understood why many women wanted to give up their children. Not only were they not prepared for the additional responsibility, but I don’t think they relished the thought of telling their child how they had come into being. To top it off, they weren’t in a position to give up prostitution, for most have no other option. I’d been in a similar position when I asked Dao to abort our child. Things hadn’t improved that much more when Nuan fell pregnant, but our feelings for one another were strong and this strength was the glue to hold our little family together. The first time I laid eyes on my precious baby I made a promise that I wouldn’t fail him or his mother. I’d already failed so many people, but I was determined never to fail my family.
One night at the go-go bar, I met a Dutchman named Erik. He sat with a Thai woman who I assumed was either his girlfriend or a guide helping him to procure a man. On what I considered lucky occasions, I was bought by couples and ordered to pleasure the wife while the husband lustfully looked on. In this case, I assumed that Erik was gay so I directed my attention towards him. He became increasingly uncomfortable, though, and finally explained that he wasn’t actually gay but did need a man to star in some porn movies. It seemed that I was the man he was looking for. The Thai woman, who turned out to be his wife, introduced herself as Wan and complimented me on my clean-looking and nicely shaped khong. Erik was promising 35,000 baht a month for my time, so I wasn’t going to turn down an appointment to meet at his hotel on Sukhumvit Road to discuss the job in more detail. I was surprised by my good luck and congratulated myself for having stumbled upon this golden opportunity. My earnings from the bar, even when combined with Thomas’s allowance, weren’t enough to cover the expenses of two adults and a child, not to mention the little extra I wanted for myself.
The following day, I met Erik in the hotel lobby. We bought a few beers and took a seat in a secluded corner. He assured me that his porn films would only be distributed on the Internet via a subscription website based in Holland. From the start he was upfront about what type of pornography he wanted to produce. He told me that the best adjective to describe it was ‘unconventional’. He wanted to film Thai women ‘playing’ with human excrement, urine and vomit; and also have a dog feature at some point in the movie. My face instantly registered utter disgust. Erik then quickly affirmed that the camera would be focused on the women the majority of the time, so I needn’t worry too much. Most of the subscribers would be logging on to v
iew the women anyway, not the men. My gut instinct was to just get up and walk away, but Erik pleaded with me to think about it, saying that he needed someone with my talents. I excused myself to go to the bathroom.
I went over the proposal in my mind several times. Finally I concluded that since I’d participated in so many other less-than-desirable activities through the years, what difference would one more make? It wasn’t as if I was some sort of fairytale character—I think Buddha must have been all out of happy-ever-afters by the time I reached the top of the queue. I began to recall some of the scenarios I’d gotten myself into over the years.
Once an African client asked if he could penetrate me but I saw that his manhood was far too big. So he asked me to give him oral sex instead, but I couldn’t fit his penis into my mouth without half-choking on it. So in lieu of fellatio, I used both of my hands to literally wrestle with his monstrous piece which I licked from base to tip to help speed up his climax. He was a gentleman though and respected my limitations, but the taste and odour made my stomach turn. In my experience, not all black men are well endowed, but this man was definitely well above average.
I also remember a very strange, clean-cut farang who used to hang out in the bar’s toilet. He’d approach go-go boys and offer to pay them to urinate into his mouth while he masturbated. I’m not kidding—he actually paid to drink our urine. We go-go boys used to roar with laughter whenever we talked about him and used to look forward to our toilet sessions. He became so well-known, in fact, the second he turned up we’d all start ordering large beers. While he preferred younger boys, he was willing to give 200 baht to anyone streaming their pee down his throat. Some boys managed to make three or four rounds a night and so made up to 800 baht. Hell, some of us saw these trips to the bathroom as a way of paying for our beers. The small toilet area would often be crowded with snickering bar boys lining up to empty their bladders for a fee. I’ve seen him around different bars over the years and he still appears healthy despite his strange fetish. It was bizarre indeed to see his eyes light up as soon as my bladder started to empty. He later wised up though, and lowered his price to a much more modest 20 baht a shot.