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Dealing with farang can not be easy on a Thai. We are a mighty strange folk. On our side of the equation we frequently discuss the oddities of Thai nationals, from the little idiosyncrasies they all seem to share to the more unusual – but not unheard of – societal and cultural traditions that leave us totally flummoxed. We use quaint phrases to account for the odd behaviors we experience, TIT, Only in Thailand, and the often usurped tourism slogan Amazing Thailand. But then The Doors already clued us in that people are strange when you’re a stranger.

Not being big fans of American rock bands from the ‘60s, Thais don’t have the wisdom of the Lizard King to explain away our differences, and I don’t think the Thais have worked out a series of cute phrases to account for our weirdness either. They just shake their collective heads in puzzlement and nod wisely whenever a Thai mentions how strange farang can be.

I sat in the bar Noom, my bar boy friend and current love of my life, works at one night while he chatted with his buddies, those who work at the bar with whom he is closest to, while I bought them drinks. That’s my job. One of the captains, a pudgy little guy who isn’t very good at his job but has such a friendly demeanor he’s hard not to like, had scored a customer by default the previous week. I’m sure the gang had been discussing his customer, the strange farang, and his odd behavior the entire week, but it was a good subject to delve into again. Especially with a farang in attendance who could possibly shine a light on the quirky behavior.

The customer had picked out a boy, and smartly described exactly what he wanted before offing him. I’d loved to have had a photo of the boy’s face; I’m not sure if it would have displayed confusion or repulsion, possibly both. The customer was a fan of fisting. And since he wanted to be on the receiving end, word circulated through the bar until some brave soul stepped up and agreed to perform the necessary duties. The fat friendly captain answered the customer’s call. And not only got a good tip out of it, but a story to regale his bar mates with too boot.

The boys were in awe. Not of the captain’s bravery, because whatever the strange sex act there’s always some Thai who will be willing to accommodate. Pursuit of baht, a national pastime, rules all. That the captain was willing to participate surprised no one. Their befuddlement stemmed from the act having moved from a fantasy to reality, and having a member of their tribe, a participant, able to relate the story. And he told it well.

Even in the West, fisting is an extreme sport. I know what it is, though I’ve no better clue than Thais as to why that particular act is appealing to some. But, whatever curls your toes as long as you are not inflicting unwanted pain on another is cool with me. That’s probably an attitude I share with Thais. They just had never considered that the question of fisting would be included in that sense of permissiveness.

You’d think that act would be more popular than it is as it is one of the specific acts listed on Gay Romeo for users to check off in their profile. Thais hate to ever use the word no, since most haven’t a clue about what fisting is, most check off ‘yes’. If you didn’t know better and were idly perusing profiles of gay guys in Thailand you’d think it was one of the more popular acts for men to engage in there. I’d already assumed that was due to a lack of knowledge and not a national obsession with having someone’s hand thrust up inside of your ass. Our conversation at the bar that night proved the point.

The fat friendly captain was equally in awe. Even though he’d experienced it first hand. No pun intended. And I’m sure the customer was pleased with his performance because the Captain demonstrated the arm movements he had made. Over and over again. Leaving no part of the act to your imagination. He had a little twisting motion right at the end that probably sent his customer to heaven.

Walking back to our hotel that night, Noom threw out one of his most used English words, “Why?”

Though I often have to determine the why of his why, this time it was clear. The answer was not as easy. When it comes to explaining fisting I’m at as much of a loss as trying to answer a child’s question of why the sky is blue. I settled for evasion. “Dunno,” I didn’t explain. “But I’ll show you when we get back to the room.”


Like most Thais Noom does not use the word no often. When he does, he makes sure it contains all twelve syllables. Though to be fair when he uses the word yes, and actually means it, it too takes on its multiple syllabic form. He accompanied his no with a quick look out of the side of his eyes to make sure I was just trying to be funny again. Farang’s sense of humor, like so much about them, is strange too. Mine is often unfathomable to Noom.

Years ago I had a boyfriend who I thought I knew well enough to have moved to a live-in position. One day while we were showering together and getting much more dirty than clean he made an unexpected move, a request offered almost as a throw away line. In between suds he quietly said, “Pee on me.”

Huh. We’d been together for almost a year and he’d never come close to mentioning golden showers before. He mistook the look I shot him as a reply with a lack of understanding. “I want you to piss on me,” he said to clarify.

Though that particular kink is probably more common than fisting is, neither is a sport I wish to engage in. In either position. Rather than allow him to think I was considering it I answered quickly, “Uh, no.”

“Why not?”

A better question is why? I suppose Google would explain the reasons why someone would get off from being urinated on. Not that I really want to know. I’ve always held that whatever gets you off is fine as long as your partner agrees. Nice principle, but when confronted with an opportunity to put my principles to test, my reaction was more of, “Dude you are sick and need to get some professional help.” But rather than tackle the subject head on, I went with avoidance. “Um, because I peed before we got in the shower,” I lied. “Sorry, the well is dry.”

That love affair didn’t last for long. He never brought the subject up again, but for the next few weeks I couldn’t pee without thinking about him. And that’s not romantic.

Sans someone peeing on the other guy, I enjoy showering with a friend. It’s both intimate and fun. It’s not a bad way to discover if the guy you just hooked up with is an appreciative bottom too. Noom doesn’t mind me watching him shower, undoubtedly he chalks it up to the strangeness of farang. Watching is nowhere near as much fun as participating. But Noom showers with the same deep concentration he does most things and it makes for an enjoyable show. It also reminds me of the first night I saw him at the bar – his sole on stage act was a soaping scene. When I decide to watch, he sexes it up a bit, at least understanding that anyone not blind would enjoy looking at his body. The joy of actually showering with him, however, he just doesn’t get.

You’d think Thai bar boys would be used to the things gay guys enjoy doing. At least the one that don’t involve fists. Most, however, think sex is something you do in bed. Elsewhere, it falls into that ‘strange farang’ world. Sex in the shower, or even a shower as foreplay just doesn’t set well with Noom. It’s not that he is uncomfortable about it, or dislikes the intimacy, but rather that he sees the purpose of a shower being to cleanse oneself. End of subject.

The few times he’s agreed to showering together he tolerates my lathering him up. He puts up with my covering every square inch of his body with soap suds. But as soon as I revisit an area I’ve already hit he says, “Already washed.”

Maybe next time, I should pee on him; “Oooops, dirty again!”

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