My last post under the I Fell In Love With A Bar Boy storyline ended with Noom, my bar boy friend and current love of my life, commenting on our dinner outing to Rama VIII and my concern thereof with, “Yeah, you worry it fitsh.”

Seems I’m not the only one who dislikes fish. Several recent gay forum topics and blog posts dealt with the subject of women in attendance in Thailand’s gay gogo bars. The most vocal responders were adamantly against the practice for a wide variety of reasons. The upshot being boy bars should not let straight women through the doors.

While I don’t care for fish for dinner, as companions or even fellow bar patrons, I enjoy their company. I’ve seen far too many fuck shows for them to be the least bit titillating anymore and spend more time watching the other patrons than I do whatever is on stage. Except for the really bad ladyboy acts. Those are always funny. Watching bored expats fall asleep isn’t too exciting. The stunned dazes expressions on newbie faces are only good for a moment’s amusement. But when a woman enters the bar, the dynamics change. Things get a bit more interesting.

Most of the guys working the stage are straight. When a woman enters, the scent of pussy filling the air stirs them from their normal lethargic state. Eyes that usually stare listlessly at mirrored walls take on a new depth, interest aroused . . . at least on those that weren’t gazing wistfully at the ladyboy acts hoping one day they too can become a star. Macho posturing soon gives way to explicit come ons. Cocks that were more hidden than displayed suddenly are proudly waved. Reeling in a fish means not only cash in the pocket but an orgasm enticed by more familiar flesh.

Of course one of the biggest objections from the gay crowd is that all of a sudden they are in competition with a woman for the attention of the naked straight boys on stage. Duh. And so what? Women are usually a bit more timid about the process. Gay guys know the score. You can easily be back in your hotel room with the guy of your dreams before the fish even baits the hook. And most don’t actually plan on making a purchase anyway. It seems obvious the straight boys would rather spend their bedtime hours with a woman. But that’s not always the case.

Noom and I were in one of Soi Twilight’s larger bars one evening visiting some of his friends. The ladyboy show had come and gone, the acts attempting eroticism had failed and were replaced on stage by the acrobatic fuck show. While Noom chatted away in Thai with one of the Captains I surveyed the crowd. My eyes fell on an elderly couple, a man and wife, sitting front and center right at the edge of the stage. The wife’s hand movement caught my eye. She’d just placed a protective palm over her drink, concerned about what was flying about the stage making an unscheduled landing in her gin and tonic. Her look was one of disgust, his one of longing. “Ah,” I thought, “Another wannabe gay husband dragged his wife in to see the gay boys fuck.”

You see a lot of grandpas in the gogo bars. Grandmas are less frequent visitors. Usually the women who brave this world are young and out to be shocked, travelling in giggling packs. Sometimes it’s a single woman accompanying her boyfriend, a reevaluation of their relationship possibly in order.

Noom is often as easy to amuse as I, so I nudged him and used my chin to point out the old farang couple expecting a snort of glee or maybe even a full laugh in response. His expression was more a disgusted snarl. Derision oozed touched with a sense of familiarity. Okay, ancient pussy is probably no more tasteful than ancient cock, but pure revulsion was not the reaction I’d expected.

Noom cleared up the matter. “She smell,” he noted with a wrinkled nose. “No clean,” he told me the look on his face ripe with loathing.

Seems the couple was not unknown to the bar. Semi-regulars, they often offed a boy to do madame while hubby-san watched, no longer able to participate even with the help of a blue pill. And a blue pill was of no more help to the unlucky boy who faced an evening of putrid smells wafting from the old bag’s unwashed cunt. Sure a bar boy may be disgusted with having to have sex with an old fat gay farang, but rank body odors are even more of a turn off. Thai bar boys may like eating fish, but they sure in the hell don’t want to sleep with one that smells like it was landed weeks ago.

So next time you feel put upon when a woman comes in to spoil the fun at your favorite gogo bar, consider that it’s possible her rank smells may instead make a night’s off with you a more acceptable proposition.

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