That Boy

To borrow the words of the late, great Yogi Berra, it was like déjà vu all over again.

I was sitting at a coffee shop about three months ago, reading my latest copy of SPICE! and enjoying a cup of freshly brewed coffee, when I spotted him out of the corner of my left eye. For the umpteenth time during my ten years or so living in the Land of Smiles, it was love (or, more accurately, lust) at first sight. He was androgynous looking, but not femme;

slim, with an almost shaved head and thin eyebrows. My guess was that he had recently returned from a stint at a wat, as a monk. He had a baby smooth, round face, a killer smile, and appeared to be in his early twenties, possibly late teens. He was sitting at a table across the room with two farangs, both in their late fifties or early sixties. Was one of them his boyfriend? I wanted to walk over and take him away, but, of course, I couldn’t. I paid my check bin and left, excited and frustrated.

A few days later, I was shopping at a local supermarket. I was selecting some fresh fruit; and there he was again, looking more alluring than before. Alas, he was with one of the men I had previously seen and looking very domestic. My little god was wearing tight fitting, denim shorts, a white singlet and sandals. From what I could see, there wasn’t a hair on his body. I almost swooned right over the sapparot. I guess he caught on to what was happening and flashed me one of his big, toothy smiles. In my mind’s eye, we were already in bed, making hot, passionate, tantric love. I tried to seem nonchalant. I gave him a slight smile and a nod and went on my way. If he’s in a relationship, what’s the point, I thought, forlornly.

Last Sunday, I decided to visit a gay sauna. I arrived during the late afternoon. There was a long line of motorcycles parked outside, always a good sign. I quickly paid my admission fee and found my assigned locker. I donned a swimsuit and headed for the pool area. Armed with a book and a glass of red wine, I was able to watch the fine specimens swimming in the pool, using the Jacuzzi, and sunning themselves; and who do you suppose I saw lying on a chaise across the pool from me? It was that boy, of course. He was wearing one of those skimpy, little bikinis that didn’t leave much to the imagination; and he was resplendent in all his youthful beauty. Luckily for me, he was with a group of Thai friends. No farangs were nearby. So, I looked directly at him and smiled. This time, he looked down shyly. However, he got off his chair and went up the stairs to the second-floor, dark room. I was behind him in a flash. I found him standing outside one of the private cubicles. Without a word, he opened the door, removed his swimsuit, handed me a condom and lube packet; and we spent the next two hours having the best sex in memory. He was all I could have imagined.

I haven’t seen him again, since, but I keep looking. Hope springs eternal.