Noom, my bar boy friend and current love of my life, has a beautiful body. He’s put a lot of work into it, countless hours spent to perfectly define every muscle, to highlight every masculine curve and bulge. He’s proud of the result, and rightly so. Noom has little problem with showing off that which he has created. And that’s a good thing. When you make your living stripping naked on stage for a room full of guys to drool over, being pleased with what you’re showing off makes your job that much easier.

The first night we hook up on any trip I make to Bangkok, as soon as we get back to the hotel he strips down to show me the latest improvements he’s made. Fortunately, even though there are no further improvements, he pulls the same stunt every time we get back to the hotel during the trip too. Noom is comfortable in his skin. And I’m comfortable in admiring it. But on that first night I have to make sure to be appreciative of his most recent muscle development. Naturally, my eye zeroes in on the muscle I’m most interested in. Comments about his cock, however, are not as well received as praise over his expanding deltoids, biceps, and pecs. Since it is his muscles – not muscle – he’s showing off, there is no real reason for him to go completely au naturel. But I don’t mention that. ‘Cuz that would just be stupid.

It’s never surprised me that so many of the boys on stage in Bangkok’s gogo bars look bored, listless, or are immersed in their reflection thanks to the de rigueur mirrors that serve as walls in most bars. Even if you parade around in your underwear nightly for a room full of strangers, it still has to be somewhat uncomfortable and a little bit embarrassing. I have to assume many of the boys consider themselves attractive, though there are just as many who I don’t believe could ever be that self-delusional. I’d think the better looking you are, the easier being undressed in public would be. At least that’s my personal observation. The guys who smile, seem to have some life in them, and even look to be enjoying themselves tend to rate an 8 or 9. They use the mirrors to preen. The guys hovering around a score of 3 or 4 always look like that can’t wait to get off the stage. They use the mirrors to erase the faces in the audience staring at them. Noom looks like he was born for the stage. Noom looks like he carries a stage around with him. If Noom could figure out how, he’d carry a mirror around with him too.

The first night we met, the first time I offed him, my heart thumped madly when he stripped down upon entering the hotel room. He doesn’t make a production out of it, it’s a natural flow of movement that he’s perfected so that by the time he’s walked fully into the room he’s down to his underwear. The only hesitation is the few seconds it takes him to carefully fold his pants and drape his shirt over the back of a chair. Then, voila, the rest comes off and Noom is as the gods intended him to be.

As proud as he is of his body, and as willing as he is to show it off, Noom is not an exhibitionist. At least not 100% so. In the privacy of our hotel room he’s cool with being naked. Back at the bar, not so much. Though he has just as much reason to be proud of the more private parts of his body, showing them off on stage embarrasses him. As with all bar boys, he gets paid extra for performing in the shows. But even a bar boy has his limits. Begrudgingly, and more in realization that it might land him a customer than in pursuit of a few hundred baht, Noom participates in acts where he has to be naked. But he refuses to be in those where he would have to perform a sex act. He knows potential customers want to see the goods, and so though he’d rather not, he does take part in his bar’s Big Cock Show. But the big smile he displays when standing center stage naked and hard has nothing to do with being happy.

But then you’d stand a better chance than I in seeing him hard and exposed on stage. Noom prefers that I call him when I get into town and then later that afternoon he’ll come by the hotel. When we do go to his bar, on the first night it is to take care of financial matters. And on any other night, so that he can spend a few minutes visiting friends and bar mates. Sometimes we stick around so I can watch the show. But then Noom watches it with me, fully dressed, sitting by my side. That’s a comfortable companionship. But a little part of me would rather see him up on stage. Okay, a big part of me likes to watch him on stage. And so more times than not I’m vague about the exact date I’ll get in town and then I show up at his bar, unexpected, just a few minutes after the show begins. It’s a little guilty pleasure of mine. A small thrill. And possibly a bit warped. I can see him naked all I want in our room. So why do I find it so enticing to catch glimpses of his naked body on stage, nowhere near as close, and while surrounded by a room full of strangers?

I dunno. But Noom hates it. I know part of the attraction for me is it’s one of the few times during the trip I’ll get the full gay gogo bar experience. Even though it is a forgone conclusion that I’ll off Noom for the duration, it still provides the same level of excitement as hitting a bar, on the prowl for a guy hot enough to off. The hunt is part of the thrill. Even if it is like shooting fish in a barrel. Later during the trip when visiting a few places with Noom it’s just not the same. Then, my boy du jour is already siting next to me. The excitement is removed from the experience. And I’ve seen too many shows for the nudity and sex alone to be much of a thrill.

Not so on my first night when I sneak into Noom’s bar. But I have to time it right. The show has to have already started. If I walk in when the lights have already dimmed, the waiters and captains who know me don’t rush off to tell Noom I’m there. Then, it’s too late to pull up an understudy, Noom’s participation is still required for those acts he has been scheduled to appear in. If I get there too early, before the show begins, someone alerts him and then the show goes on without him. And my fun has to wait until we get back to the hotel.

But on those nights when I time it right, I get to watch the show and wait for Noom’s appearance. Fortunately, like many of the hotter guys, he spends a good amount of his time on stage checking himself out in the mirrors. But sooner or later he’ll let his gaze take in the audience. When he spots me, he has a physical reaction, an unconscious, quick jerk to cover himself before his conscious mind takes over and reminds him he is on stage and being paid to expose himself. Then his smile of embarrassment takes on new heights. Noom is the only Thai I’ve ever seen blush.

Embarrassing him is not the point of catching him naked on stage, unaware. Though at any other time or in any other setting that can be fun. Seeing him naked isn’t the point either. Naked Noom is a large part of my Thailand experience on any trip. And though I get a small degree of enjoyment in watching him at work – which I guess is akin to straight guys who are as proud as a peacock about dating a stripper and the envy of all of their friends – the big payoff is the initial interaction between us, the momentary silent conversation we have before he gets a chance to cover himself, hop off the stage, and run over to greet me with a big hug. So maybe I’m not quite as warped as I thought. At least not in this instance.

After Noom spots me, makes that quick move to cover himself that never gets finished, and turns red, our eyes meet. His big fake grin dissolves into a smile of pleasure in seeing me again. And he makes a small, quick, upward nod of his head. It’s an acknowledgment of his embarrassment, but also a shared laugh at where he is and what he’s in the middle of doing. Noom can always find something to laugh about. Even when it is at himself. And though I am thrilled when he finally gets to come over to greet me, pleased when he sits down next to me for a quick minute before offering up another small, knowing laugh accompanied by yet another short nod downward this time – an acknowledgment that he needs to go in the back and get rid of the torn condom he’s been using to keep his cock erect for the show – it is that momentary connection while he is still on stage that is the true thrill for me.

While Noom stands on stage exposing himself to an appreciative audience, eyes glued to his reflection or taking in the faces of those staring up at him, there is a deadness in his eyes, a wall he builds that separates and removes the real Noom from the experience and allows the working Noom to do his job, with a minimum of embarrassment. When our eyes meet, that wall quickly crashes down. The real Noom comes out. If that makes sense. And it is that moment, that instant of transformation, when he is most naked, both physically and emotionally, that makes my heart soar. That connection – when the bar, the customers, the stage, and Noom’s predicament – all disappear, is an intensely personal and private moment between us. Despite the crowd, the blaring music, and the noise of a busy bar. It’s a quiet, temporary moment in which only the two of us exist. It’s a personal connection that transcends place, one that relies completely on the friendship we’ve built over the years, on who we are, and what we mean to each other.

We can, and do, speak often with but a quick look. A fleeting glance conveys meaning by itself thanks to our familiarity with each other. So it is not the silent communication between us alone that makes that moment so special. And my guilty pleasure has little to do with his public nudity either. His transformation while on stage, from being removed to becoming fully engaged upon spotting me is part of it. But more so it is that Noom the bar boy – that marvelous hunk of muscle, that hot body available for purchase to anyone with enough baht, that hunk of meat that anyone can drool over – with one look becomes the Noom that I know and love. Which has nothing to do with his body. And has everything to do with who he is.

So maybe it’s not so much about his transformation but rather about mine. Maybe it is that in that instant I move from staring at an object of desire to seeing a real person. Maybe it is his ability, with just a look, to transform me from a voyeur into a real person too. Maybe it’s that, with just his look, I’m reminded of what I mean to him. Maybe it is that sense of place, that instant reminder of my importance to someone else and the impact I have on his world, that is the true pleasure. And maybe, it’s that that look – more than any other – welcomes me back to Bangkok and tells me that I have a place in Noom’s heart.

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