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Extract - All Change
Rob was a creature of habit. He had gone to the same bar, Dragon Boys on
Soi 20, almost every night for the previous four months. He no longer enjoyed the show, and there were
no boys he liked, but he still went. Things
had changed. He used to enjoy chatting
with the show boys but the ones he had got to know over years of holiday trips
had gradually left. He had tried other
bars, but it didn't feel the same and the Mamasans would not leave him
alone. He had taken boys, but boys were
boys; those who he thought his type inevitably turned out to be a failure in
bed, despite what they promised in the bar.
So he kept the routine. Dinner, a
drink at Dragon to watch the show and chat with Rit, the last remaining showboy
he knew, and then home to sleep, alone.
One night late November, Rit came over as
usual after the show, but this time said he was finishing and with that, he
walked off. Rob did not even think to
ask him where he was going or when he was leaving. The next night he went to Dragon, but no Rit. Obviously leaving had meant left. He confirmed it with a waiter and left half
way through the show. The fun had
completely gone for him.
Rob made a decision and, by the next
afternoon, he was sat in the restaurant of the Foreign Correspondents Club, the
'FCC', in Phnom Penh. He had needed to
do a border trip in the next two weeks anyway, as his three months were
up. He knew he should change his
non-immigrant visa to a retirement visa, but the discipline of having to make a
trip every three months worked for him.
It forced him to do something. He
watched the boys loitering on the riverfront from his vantage point.
He was staying in a cheap hotel, as the FCC
had been full, but had a reservation at the FCC for the next day. He was restless. He knew he had run away, but not sure from
what. After all, it was just a bar and
they were just boys. It was not as if
Pattaya were short of either. He walked
back to his room to shower. He looked at
the small bed, the worn carpet and the cracked mirror in the bathroom. It all looked so much better on the internet
when he had booked. “Same as the boys
he'd met from the internet,” he muttered, and smiled to himself. He showered, thankful he had brought his own
towel; the thought of using the threadbare small towel that was on his bed was
too much.
He was feeling hungry and so went for a
stroll along the riverfront as the sun set, before dinner at the FCC. He cut a strange figure. Slight build, greying hair, baggy grey
trousers, long sleeved white shirt with button down collar and an Indiana Jones
style hat. He carried a walking stick,
although he did not need it, and a Harrods shopping bag. Everywhere he went, everything went with him
in the Harrods bag. It was getting well
worn, but he wouldn't replace it. Rob
was British by birth, but always felt an outcast in his own country. He had retired, sold up and moved to Thailand. He was tired of moving on. Now at 55 he wanted somewhere to call
home. He had had boys, almost
boyfriends, but greed had always got the better of them. Everyone said that was the Thai way. But then he had found it had been the same in
Europe. It was the bi-product of getting
attached to someone, when the core of the relationship was financial.
The next morning he moved to the FCC with a
balcony overlooking the river. This was
more his life-style. He always tried to
take the same room, Ta Prohm. He liked
the fact they had names not numbers. It
was also his favourite Khmer site. He
had been lucky that it had been available at short notice.
Large comfortable bed, a balcony
overlooking the Tonle Sap and a mini bar stocked with a full size bottle of
whisky, instead of those expensive miniatures.
Those foreign correspondents must be thirsty people! He took a long soak in the bath, something he
hadn’t done for years and sipped on a brandy that he had ordered from room
service.
He went for an afternoon stroll along the
river and stopped to talk with some of the boys on the riverfront. They were obviously for rent, and he
considered one or two. But since a bad
experience in Amsterdam, when he had taken a boy from the station and been
robbed, he would only take boys from bars now.
He tried to remember the last time he had
taken a boy. It must have been a month
ago; it had been a disaster. He was
tempted by what was on offer on the riverfront, but hated the thought of
rejection or disappointment, or worse being robbed. They are probably all ‘gay for pay’ anyway,
he thought!
He knew he had to go back to Pattaya. After all, it wasn't as if his life had
gone. He just had to get back in the
saddle, get out of the rut. And maybe
the jolt was what he needed. So, after a
couple more nights enjoying the FCC, he checked out and returned to his
apartment in Pattaya.
Over the next few weeks, he tried just
about every bar, but did not feel at home.
He went back to Dragon, but the magic was lost. It had changed hands, and as far as he could
see, the new owner was making a complete mess of things. No wonder Rit had left.
He
searched for a boy for company, but whenever he saw one he liked, he would
invent reasons to avoid them. Too tall,
too short, too young, too old, too muscled, too effeminate. He wondered what he was looking for, or was
he just jaded with the Thai scene, or boys in general.
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