My blog tends to take a Dr. Jekyll & Mr. Hyde approach to Thai bar boys. Snarky posts that are meant to be humorous play off the money grubbing/walking ATM syndrome caricature because that’s always good for a laugh. I probably shouldn’t perpetuate that myth as much as I do, or at least include a standard warning when I do, but humor, when it is funny, relies on a least a small kernel of truth as its basis. I’d say the same about my portrayal of mamasans, but the money grubbing/walking ATM syndrome caricature as it applies to them is the entire truth.

In my I Fell In Love With A Bar Boy posts, that is not how I portray Noom, my bar boy friend and current love of my life. That caricature has nothing to do with who he is. And while it is a persona that is always good for a chuckle, I take great strides to avoid that suggestion when I write about him. It’s easy to make fun of a group of people, their common foibles even when exaggerated can be funny. Anytime you cull that group down to an individual, however, whatever trait you were using for a laugh tends to disappear. If you’re lucky. Not that that means in our relationship the money grubbing bar boy /walking ATM syndrome never raises its head. Having read the gay Thailand message boards for far too many years, it is something that is always at the back of my mind, and something that crops toward the front whenever financial matters come up.

I keep waiting for that shoe to drop. But it never has. Instead, when a situation arises where I’m sure it will, Noom proves me wrong. Yet again. I’d feel worse than I do about that, and should be shamed when I fail to trust him, but then he too lets the little devil on his shoulder that warns him against trusting anything a farang says play its role in our relationship too. Fortunately, I’ve proved him wrong just as often as he has me. As our relationship has grown, and as we have learned to trust each other a bit more, those times have become fewer and fewer. But for both of us it is a strong voice of caution that has still not gone away.

And maybe that’s a good thing. Doubting the person you love isn’t, but getting bitch slapped for having done so and being shown how wrong you were, I think, is. At least it is if you are capable of learning from your mistakes. Owning up to those errors in judgement ain’t unhealthy for your psyche either.

While in writing these tales I try to portray Noom in the most favorable light – which is not a difficult thing to do – my own rep is not of as large of a concern. But then portraying myself in a less than favorable light isn’t difficult either. I have enough not a fans that I don’t really need to go out of my way to trash me. But along with telling these tales to possibly amuse both you and I, a large part of my deciding to do so was to provide a glimpse into a bar boy/farang relationship that isn’t the typical portrayal you read on the message boards. Even when doing so is at my expense.

My relationship with Noom is not all that unique. Thanks to these posts I’ve heard from many others who have turned a blind eye on the naysayers and have been much happier for doing so. I wish we’d hear more of their tales on the forums. But whenever someone attempts to add to that record, the disgruntled and disenfranchised come out in droves to tear him – and his relationship – down. Misery loves company. Especially when misery resides in Pattaya. So today I thought I’d tell you a tale that even the miserable might enjoy. It is the closest Noom and I have come to meeting their standard where all a bar boy really cares about is the amount of cash he and his family can get out of a farang.

Family, like for many Thais, is important to Noom. As a dutiful son, no major Buddhist holiday passes for which he doesn’t make the trek home to spend time with his family. And, like many Thais working in Bangkok, he routinely sends money home too. It’s the Thai version of Social Security. And one of the few legitimate excuses I’ve run across for having children. Fortunately for me, a heathy bank account negates the need for offspring. And personally, spending holiday time with my cash is much more enjoyable than spending it with my family.

I’ve met Noom’s Papa before, in fact this tale is about the second time we got together. Noom’s Mom died when he was young, so I never got to meet her. His father’s second wife I have. Though since Noom refers to her as “Papa wife” you can tell how important she is in Noom’s life. I’ve met her several times now and haven’t a clue as to what her name is. We’ve never been introduced. Nor have I ever heard her speak. Even in Thai. I think ‘second wife’ even when the first one is still alive and still a spouse is more about function than family. In Noom’s family that function seems to be akin to being a live-in maid. But she’s there to serve Papa. So all is good with the world.

Papa on the other hand, I heard much about even before we met. And regardless of the tale Noom was telling at the time, that he spends each morning – and a good part of the day – reading the daily newspaper always got mentioned. Back home, every morning Papa rides his bicycle into ‘town’ to pick up his newspaper. And then retires back to his house to read it. While Second Wife sees to his every need. That’s not weighty enough of an activity to require such frequent telling. And I assumed it was more about his physical ability at his age – which fortunately is not as close to mine as is Noom’s – to be riding his bicycle. It was well into the hundredth telling that it struck me that the pride Noom felt in his Papa wasn’t about his skills in riding a bicycle but rather his ability to read. That’s a good example of how easy it is to project your own world into where it doesn’t belong. Back in the U.S., everyone I know has literate parents. In Thailand, a man of Noom’s Papa’s age, having been raised and lived his entire life in a rural village, being able to read is unusual. And is something to be proud of.

So on one visit to Bangkok when Noom mentioned his Papa was in town I suggested we stop by his brother’s house for a visit. “Suggested” meaning demanded. Not so that I could meet him, I already had. But rather because even though he’d been in town for several weeks, Noom had yet to make the trek out near Khaosan Road where his bro lives to pay his respects. And grown adult children, despite how much they may love and respect their parents, often require someone to force the issue of a visit. Or to call them. I know I do. So while I’m on the subject, give yours a call. Today, huh?

Noom knows me well enough to realize when a suggestion I make isn’t. So we agreed to spend the afternoon visiting Papa. With the oft repeated story of his love for reading the daily newspaper in mind, I thought it’d be a nice gesture on my part to stop and get the latest issue to take to him. We were by Chitlom BTS station at the time and I figured the Grand Hyatt Erawan would have a gift shop cum newsstand in its lobby as most decent hotels do. It didn’t. Noom laughed as he often does when my mind fails to be in sync with reality. It is impressive that Papa reads. It would be even more impressive if he read English. As would the Hyatt, which caters to affluent foreign visitors, if it stocked the local Thai language newspaper. Duh. No problemo. Noom knew the 7/11 by his bro’s house would provide me with the polite gesture I wanted to make.

Papa was pleased with my gesture. Not overly ecstatic mind you, but appreciative that his newest son seemed to understand at least a small degree of the complex social and cultural requirements of being an honorary member of a Thai family. I think Second Wife was too, but she was busy sweeping the floor so who knows. Like Second Wife, Papa does not speak English. But Noom translates so that we can have a conversation anyway. Papa lets loose with a lengthy diatribe as befitting Head of the Family; Noom then informs me, “He tell you . . .” rounding out whatever the subject matter was in about an additional half a dozen words. So there might be a bit lost in translation. But it’s the thought that counts. And we smile at each other a lot so I’m sure he loves me just as much as he does his other sons.

Filial duty done, long winded conversation shorten by the translator, Second Wife having moved on to doing the laundry, it was time to bring our visit to an end. And Noom gave me The Look. Noom has a roster of looks he routinely pulls out to throw in my direction. Seldom do they lose much in translation. But this one I wasn’t getting. So I gave him my own look back. The one that says, “I haven’t a fucking clue about what you are trying to tell me.”

Speaking a language in front of those who do not speak it themselves is generally considered to be rude. But, when you are trying to slyly inform someone of something that – in your opinion – they should already know without giving the game away, it can come in handy. Noom kept his attempt as short as his translation services. “Money” he whispered while making eye gestures towards Papa.

Huh. Enter devil on shoulder. As well as the part of this tale the disgruntled and disenfranchised will enjoy.

Obviously, though not to me at the time, duty required a monetary gift to Papa. The daily edition of the local rag wasn’t enough. My gesture was nice, but not the one that counted. Which in and of itself was of concern. But then so was just how much that monetary observance should be. As I often do when confronted with a social quagmire, I punted. And handed Noom my our wallet. He separated two thousand baht notes from the rest of the wad and looked at me for approval. Whatever. $60 or six bucks, I was still trying to wrap my mind around – for the first time in our relationship – confronting the Walking ATM / Thais only want whatever money they and their family can get out of a farang syndrome. And my Thais weren’t even very good at it.

Papa graciously acted like he hadn’t watched that interplay or noticed Noom pulling the cash out of my our wallet to hand to me to hand to him. Second Wife graciously ignored the entire transaction and began tending to the dusting that needed tending to. Papa nodded his thanks – obviously to me and not to Second Wife – and then gave yet another Head of Family speech. Five minutes later, Noom translated. “He tell you he thank you for taking care me.”

Huh. Papa can not only read, but is pretty wise too. I’m not sure that money is the root of all evil as that saying goes. But do know that when you put too much focus on it, it becomes worth more than it really is.

As soon as we got out onto the soi, Noom apologized, simply. “I sorry“ he said. Not being completely dense 24/7, I was fairly certain I knew what the apology was for. But raised an eyebrow for an explanation anyway. And I was right. It wasn’t for the act but rather for not having mentioned and/or arranged for it in advance. Noom, visiting Papa on his own, would never think about not passing along some cash. It is what a good son does. And as far as Noom is concerned I’m part of his family as he is part of mine. Even if I am the simple sibling who requires being told what to do.

Noom could have just as easily grabbed some cash and given it to Papa himself. But it was important to him that that gift came directly from me. It wasn’t just about the money. It was about the gesture. One that acknowledged my standing in our family. It’d be easy for naysayers to claim that no, it was about baht. But that’s what happens when instead of attempting to understand and empathize with cultural practices foreign to you, you fall back on your own social norms instead. That’s the reading you mistakenly make when your focus is on money instead of the more important things in life. And if you got a momentary bit of enjoyment out of being able to crow, “I knew it ! I told you so!” out of this tale, I’ve got a gesture for you too.

Related Posts You Might Enjoy: