“Where in the hell did you learn that!?”

Noom, my bar boy friend and current love of my life, giggled. “Cutomer,” he smiled, pleased with himself. And with his new skill.

“Damn, you need to get a booking with that guy again!” Noom’s, um, technique has always been good. Not great. But good. He’s always been willing to please, and even occasionally take direction. Like most regular sexual partners, we’ve both learned what the other guy likes, what really turns him on. And I’ve never had any complaints about Noom’s efforts. But damn! His new trick was a welcome addition to his repertoire.

“From you,” he said with a nod of appreciation.

That drew me up short. A lot of Thais, Noom included, have trouble with tenses. And pronouns. I’ve given up on attempting to identify whomever it is he is telling me about when he uses ‘he’ or ‘she’. Usually the she turns out to be a he and vice versa. His ‘from you’ could have been ‘for you’. But that didn’t quite seem right either.

“What do you mean from me?” I asked him.

“Internet,” he replied, waiting for me to connect the dots.

So now my question is which one of you bastards taught my boy that new trick with his tongue?

It took a few minutes and a few more questions to get the story from Noom. Seems he’s picked up a few customers who’ve hunted him down after reading this blog. Originally, he hadn’t been sure if he liked being written about on the internet. Now that that has translated to cash in his pocket, he fully approves.

“How do you know it was from my blog?” I asked him.

“Show picture,” he explained adding, “Phuket,” in case I didn’t know which he was referring to. I laughed at the idea of someone walking into the bars along Soi Twilight, printed photo in hand, comparing each boy on stage to the one in the picture. I’ve never posted a clear shot of Noom’s face in my blog, but then just matching up the tats would do the trick.

“Where’s my cut?”

Noom laughed and nodded downward. Evidently I’d just gotten my cut. And have to admit it was payment well made. I asked him if now that he was benefitting from being an ‘internet star’ was he reading my blog? He paused, deciding whether or not it was necessary to feed my ego, and then realizing my ego really needs no outside assistance, owned up. And offered an explanation.

“About me. Not enough.”

Well, yeah, he had a point. His stories only come up every week or so. If they were daily posts, I’m sure he’d be an avid reader. So would a lot of others. But most of my posts I can whip out in five or ten minutes only after spending countless hours in deep concentration, research, and rewrites. Stories about Noom take a bit longer. I owe it to him to get it right. Plus whatever event popped into my mind to write about brings back a lot of pleasant memories, so there’s lots of daydreaming involved in writing those posts too.

I’d never considered, though, that anyone would want to flesh those stories out by meeting him in the flesh. And spend an evening enjoying his flesh, to boot. It kinda boggles the mind that an American living in the States writing about his part-time relationship with a bar boy in Thailand could prompt someone from another country to drop into Bangkok to spend an evening with him. The reach of the internet is amazing. But does that make me an internet pimp? Even if I only get paid in trade?

I greatly appreciate those readers who take the time to comment on my posts. Especially those who do frequently. I blog, therefore I am: maybe. But blogging can often be a case of a tree falling in the forest. So it’s nice, via comments, to know someone heard. I consider comments submitted as a small ‘thanks’ for my blogging efforts. Offing my bar boy friend then, has to be a standing ovation.

“I think you should write a story for my blog.”

“Why?”

“’Cuz guys would enjoy hearing your side. They’d be interested in your story.”

Noom thought about it for a minute. He’s churning over possible future careers these days, maybe being a blogger would be a good choice.

“Not my job,” he concluded.

So I guess not. But I gave it another try.

“I think maybe you’d get even more customers,” I told him.

“No money on internet,” Noom replied, summing up the basic fault with that idea. “Need booking.”

So on your next trip to Bangkok, my boy needs your business. But if you can’t teach him a new trick I’ll enjoy, drop me a note. I’ll give you my PayPal info. I still deserve my cut.

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