I like catchy titles for my posts. Even if Google would think higher of my blog if those titles clearly spelled out what the post was about. But I figure if you turn to the internet for info or stories about Thailand’s gay bar world, sooner or later you’re gonna stumble upon my blog anyway. Besides if SEO was my goal, I’d join Google’s failed attempt at being a social media site, which would ensure a top rank for anything I wrote. In its quest to actually make a profit, Google has gone from being the search engine of choice, to selling its rankings to the highest bidder, to shamelessly promoting its attempt to out Facebook Facebook . . . it’s a shame Microsoft didn’t come up with a better name than Bing for their answer to Google. I binged it, just doesn’t have the same cache. And though that all has to do with numbers, at least those preceded by a dollar sign, Google’s path to obsolescence isn’t the subject of this post. Despite the appropriateness of the catchy title.

I’d thought this would be a good title for an article comparing the pros and cons of offing a bar boy versus a tryst with a moneyboy – be that off the street or over the internet. That would be exploring the costs versus value with a bit of safety concerns thrown in. I also liked the title for an article examining the pros and cons of cruising Bangkok’s gogo bar with a wingman compared to striking out on your own. Both would have worked, both will undoubtedly be covered at some point in the future. But a blog entry I recently read usurped the title. A young, backpacking blogger on an extended stay in the Big Mango wrote of his experience on Soi Twilight, and though he went with Curiosity Got The Better of Me for his post’s title, By The Numbers would have better fit his tale of horror.

I’m not old enough to be a crotchety old bastard yet, nor am I far enough along in years to blame the troubles of the world on the young. I have yet to reach an age when I wonder how in the hell they can call the stuff they listen to music. The hairstyles and clothing choices of the younger generation don’t confound me either. Well, except for skinny jeans. But that has more to do with an innate sense of fashion than it does with age. I like the young. I like hanging out with those a decade or two younger than me. And like a lot of middle-aged gay men, given my druthers I prefer younger guys for sexual partners. They are much more pliable.

Today’s youth are tomorrow’s whatevers. Fill in the blank with your choice of cliche. Justin Bieber’s antics might cause some concern, but for the most part the openness and lack of bigotry among today’s youth, I think, is a good thing. Interracial dating is not a term that even exists in their lexicon anymore. Most accept others for who they are. Being gay – outside of those pockets where racism, homophobia, intolerance, and bigotry still thrive thanks to inbreeding – is no big thing and most younger people have one if not several gay friends. Older generations are set in their ways, seldom capable of broadening their opinions; the acceptance of gays in society is largely due to the attitude of today’s youth. And even though backpackers are not my favorite brand of human – primarily because of their insistence on worshiping a false god of travel – thanks to their youth I do enjoy reading of their exploits on the internet and hanging out with them in Bangkok.

After the sun goes down, I spend almost as much time on Khaosan Road as I do at the gay clubs, pubs, and gogo bars of Patpong. The backpacking community may not be adept at personal hygiene, but they do know how to party. The area on and around Khaosan Road has some great bars including one of Bangkok’s best and most consistent blues club. And while I am seldom on the prowl for sex when visiting Bangkok’s backpacker ghetto, you should never underestimate the power of being a daddy. Or of having an upscale, spacious, clean room with a private bath available to someone who’s into their third month of roughing it. I’m not sure why being the old fart in a club qualifies you as being ‘cute’ but with the right attitude, exchanging the Silom ghetto for the Khaosan one can do wonders for your sex life. That’s another thing I like about the young. They are often needy and easy to please. The Statue of Liberty was onto something with that ‘Give me your tired, your poor, your hungry” thingy.

I also like reading the perspective of someone from a different age group and point in life when it pertains to what I consider my home grounds. It’s always interesting – and sometimes an eye-opener – to read of a first time visitor’s take on Soi Twilight when that is not really part of their world or their normal choice of stomping grounds. It can be a breath of fresh air. And provides a nice departure from the typical elderly sex tourist who lives and breathes Thailand’s commercial sex scene to a point where they think posting “In my opinion the only real forum with interesting news about the gay scene in Thailand is Gaybuttons.” on one of the gay Thailand message boards actually makes sense. Or has any validity.

But that’s the problem when you confine yourself to any ghetto, be it Sunee Plaza, Khaosan Road, or Soi Twilight. Regardless of age, your view of the world is so narrow and restricted you forget that there is an entirely different world waiting just outside its borders. Tapping into the world outside your own is good for your mental health. Even if it is not as comfortable or familiar as crawling back into a bottle of rot-gut gin.

Thailand’s commercial sex scene, as prevalent as it is, is not for everyone. I get that. You can wrap it up in whatever words makes it the most palatable to you, but it’s still prostitution. The attitude in Thailand may be different, and is. The manner in which it is viewed may not be the same as it is back home. But you can never get past the fact that money is exchanging hands for sexual favors. That may not be the major sin in Thailand that it is in other countries, but it is certainly understandable why some visitors refuse to have anything to do with it. And despite every gay Thailand message board’s belief that their endless discussions of money boys and places to procure them is what gay Thailand is all about, it’s not. But it is so obvious, open, and in your face that it is not surprising that many gay visitors to the Kingdom end up, at least, taking a quick peek.

For some, probably many more than expected, that progresses to a longer peek, to an hour or two of checking out the scene, to becoming completely involved and suddenly finding themselves waking up next to a young hottie to whom they owe a few thousand bucks for the pleasure. I credit the friendliness, charm, and beauty of Thai men for that. Because visitors of all nationalities and age groups find themselves sucked in; it is not just the aged, lonely, or desperate who hook up with a bar boy in Thailand. Surprisingly, or maybe not, it is not even just gay men who do. Considering how open to new experiences and experimentation youthful backpackers tend to be, it might be a good thing that their ghetto and the commercial gay sex scene one are so far apart. Or T.A.T’s slogan, Amazing Thailand’ could easily take on a whole new meaning for the straight youth of the world.

Westerner morals, especially those involving sex, may not be the best fit for Thailand. But they are part of the baggage travellers pack along with them. We all define the points of our moral compasses; where North lays on yours is cool with me as long as you don’t attempt to bend mine southward. The young, as strictly as they may adhere to some of their beliefs, tend to allow their magnetic poles to float a bit. And that’s good. It’s part of growing up. It’s part of the maturing process. And should be a part of your life no matter how young or old you are. So even though this backpacking blogger began his tale with far too many excuses for why he ended up on Soi Twilight, with the title of his post being “Curiosity Got The Better of Me” I assumed, despite his initial misgivings, the better man would prevail. Nope. Instead the bitter man did. I guess that general state of disgruntlement I assign to Pattaya’s sexpats isn’t a result of age alone after all.

After an initial protracted bit of whining about the state of the carpet on the stairs leading up into Hot Male (which should have tipped me off that within him existed a fussy old queen who’d just not gotten to the old part yet) he went on to bitch about the 280 baht his drink cost him. I wonder how many disgruntled old sex pats began their relationship with Thailand as a youthful backpacker. He also took the time to confess his guilt over the cost of his beer supporting Bangkok’s sex trade. Not that his offended sense of morals caused him to walk out of the place mind you.

But he was cool with the opening numbers of the show, noting how handsome the guys in their underwear were and then further excusing his participation in Bangkok’s sex trade by marvelling at their dancing prowess, which comforted him in knowing thy were not just sex toys to be bought. ‘Cuz of course that would never be the reason a bunch of Thai guys would be parading about on stage in nothing but their undergarments. Once the hard-ons appeared, however, that story changed.

The poor, exploited boys – and you may want to sit down for this one – “with their permanent hard-ons poking out of the top of their underwear” had “badges with printed numbers.” I know, I too am shocked and aghast. And of course rather than becoming enlightened as to why this practice is followed at every gogo bar on the country – straight, gay, or in between – or realizing its basis lays in the general feeling among Thais that it is rude to point and the badges provide an easy way to identify to a mamasan which guy on stage you’d like to have join you, he concluded, “These poor guys were reduced to being numbers.” I’d hate to think what he’d think of a bar boy I know whose nickname is Neung. Or how many in the bar’s stable anxiously wait for the guy who has #9 to quit so they can snap up that lucky numbered badge.

Despite the horror of watching a bunch of naked guys who’d been reduced to being a number, he stayed for the sex part of the show, described it intimately in great detail, but admitted he didn’t find watching the various pairs of coupling hunks sexy because he knew “they were ultimately for sale.” I give his dick major kudos for being able to differentiate between cock for sale and cock without a price tag on it. That’s not a talent mine has ever mastered.

The pretense of morals that are a bit foggy in the first place is never a pretty sight. Falling back on what you assume to be the correct level of outrage in lieu of genuine feelings of being morally offended, when it is just a matter of indignation by the numbers, is no better. Doing so at an age when you are supposed to be taking in the world around you in order to define an informed set of morals you’ll live by is a shame. Said blogger went on in the comment section of his post to pull out the old anti-prostitution stand-bys: that the guys working at the bar had probably been abused and/or raped as kids, that the poor creatures were ignorant of being exploited, and – one of my all time favorites – that we should condemn the sin but not the sinner. He signed off noting that his “experience made me alert to having some kind of internal moral compass.” Uh, no dude. It should have alerted you to the fact that you lack one.

His is not an unusual farang meets Thailand tale. There have been countless NGOs that have come before him intent on saving the country’s poor, exploited commercial sex workers only to find they don’t want saving. Outrage over Thailand’s sex industry is as common of a reaction as is the awe and wonder of the country’s natural beauty. It boils down to what it is about Thailand that you focus on, what facet of the country that attracts your attention. Which says more about you than it does of the country. The difference here is that those who rail against Thailand’s sex industry are not usually gay. Or young. The youth who visit Thailand as part of the backpacking community don’t usually adopt the morals of their middle-aged, sexually frustrated, menopausal mothers. When the best you can come up with to express your outrage over a show featuring naked male prostitutes engaged in a variety of sexual acts seldom seen outside of Bangkok’s gogo bars is that they are forced to wear a number, a bit more thought might need to be given to your stance before you decide to express it.

Thailand is the only country where I pay for sex, though once I spend more time in Rio I’m assuming that will change. Why my moral compass allows for that is only important to me. I don’t excuse the country’s sex industry, nor do I defend it. It is what it is. And despite what your uninformed mind might think, no one is getting hurt; no one is being exploited. I don’t think it is right for everyone, nor do I believe someone whose morals preclude them from participating in it is wrong. But if that is the case, stay clear of it. It has nothing to do with you. And it and those who are involved with it do not require your blessing or condemnation. The morals you decide demand being inflicted on others – those real or just conveniently handy – stem from the same immorality that results in bigotry, racism, and homophobia. Intolerance is intolerance no matter how you dress it up. But maybe that’s a lesson not yet mastered by some of today’s youth.

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