Noom, my bar boy friend and current love of my life, has a serious problem. He’s spent years working on developing the world’s most beautiful body and while he may not have reached that goal yet in some people’s opinion, he’s damn close. When you own the world’s most beautiful body, it is incumbent upon you that you show it off. When you rent the world’s most beautiful body it’s incumbent upon you to pay for the clothing that will show it off the best. No problemo. I consider it the same as being a patron of the arts. I’m just more attached to my canvas than are most art connoisseurs.

That’s not the problem. If Noom could spend both his days and nights shirtless, life would be a breeze. But even in Bangkok, public nudity is sometimes frowned upon. Noom’s problem crops up when he has to cover the world’s most beautiful body. Since anything and everything he slips on looks good on him, you wouldn’t think that would be a problem. But, conversely, when everything you wear looks good on you, nothing you wear looks bad. And then you end up wearing things you shouldn’t.

Noom isn’t the only one that suffers from this problem. A lot of men do. And many of them seem to hang out in Thailand. If they too were contenders for owning the world’s most beautiful body, it would make Noom’s condition more bearable. Instead of being the focus of everyone’s attention, he’d be just one more solid stone cold hunk who really should be naked at all times. Instead the average sufferer is the opposite. Owning a body that should always be clothed, they choose to drape it in duds that highlight their short comings. Forget Queer Eye For The Straight Guy, what Thailand needs is a posse of gay men whose sole purpose in life is to redesign the wardrobe of other gay men. Especially those over 50.

Those who are large – and by that I man extra extra extra large – who drape their torso in tent-like garments mistakenly thinking that in some way hides their size I have no problem with. Hiding your extra rolls of blubber and a set of breasts that would make Pamela Anderson jealous is a good thing in my book. When I pass those guys on the street, I often make a quick stop and say, “Thank You.” Those who are XXXL but are too cheap to spring for the extra 100 baht and try to get by wearing a XXL shirt instead I make a point to stop and laugh at. I know. You think that’s cruel. But if their own sense of shame doesn’t keep them from walking around like that, heaping on a bit more, I believe, is everyone’s duty. Or at least mine.

I also direct an exuberant, “Aloha!” to those wandering around in aloha shirts, but I think that subtle comment on their choice of fashion is often lost on them. Maybe I should switch to whistling a few bars from the theme song from Gilligan’s Island instead.

When you own the world’s most beautiful body, wearing a shirt that is at least one size too small is a requirement. If everyone can’t see your rippling muscles and rock solid abs despite what you’ve covered them with, then what was all that work for? Unfortunately, those with less than stellar physiques often adopt the same mode of dress. I guess they figure if everyone can’t see your triple digit body fat profile and rolls of blubber that play musical chairs as you waddle down the street despite what you’ve covered them with, then what was all that eating for? So here’s a fashion hint that will keep you comfortable in the hot tropics and keep me from losing my lunch when you stroll by: Cotton breathes. If you allow it to.

Noom has shown up wearing both Abercrombie & Fitch and Hollister T shirts in the past, the former marketed to 18 to 22 year olds , the latter to those still in high school. Usually when I see a guy his age wearing a brand meant for those decades younger, I shake my head in pity. I give Noom a pass instead. When you have the body of an 18-year-old stud, you are allowed to dress like one regardless of your true age. Besides, I know it’s not about the brand and mistakenly thinking that wearing it makes him cool, It’s that Thai attraction to any T-shirt with English on it. And like most Thais, Noom is always proud of himself when he’s snagged an English T-shirt.

So explaining to him why it might not be a good idea to wander around wearing a shirt with Fuck emblazoned across the chest is a losing proposition. Not that that stopped me from trying. Nor did it stop him from looking at me like I was either crazy or dense while he succinctly explained, “It Englis.”

In any case, I gave up on that one. Other than extremely prudish people I doubt anyone was offended by his choice of shirt. Perhaps if he looked like he meant it it would have been a problem, but Noom’s personality shines as bright as his toothy smile. And thanks to that T-shirt covering the world’s most beautiful body, I think all the graphic did was to put ideas in peoples’ heads.

With the exception of pricey shirts I buy for Noom to wrap the world’s most beautiful body in, he tends to treat his clothing as a second skin. Both in how he wears it and in the frequency with which he sheds them. T-shirts never last long; he prefers to dispose of them than wash them so any time we pass a bargain bin of shirts I know we’ll be buying several. Most last for but a day or two. A Manchester United T-shirt lasted for only an afternoon. Even though it was blue, his lucky shirt color. Too many people stopped him to comment on the team and Noom is not a fan of Manchester United. I’ve bought him three more since then as gifts. Just to watch the confusion stumble across his face while he attempts to act pleased with my gift.

Of course if you are Thai, the only thing better than a shirt received as a gift is a free one. Free is a magical word to Thais and wrapping your body in that magic can only be a good thing. So a post a while back by a blogger I enjoy reading made me laugh ‘cuz I suspect he’d spotted Noom one night and wrote about it. Noom had snagged a double whammy – a T-shirt with an English slogan on it, and one that was free. It lasted for several weeks. Despite my explaining why that particular shirt might not be the best choice for him to wear. And it was my fault. I’d wired him some cash, his favorite way for me to express how much I miss him. He likes getting unexpected money, and appreciates he can retrieve it from the money exchange booth across the street from Soi Twilight. This particular time, he not only got his baht but thanks to a promotion Western Union was holding, he got a free T-shirt too.

A week later I arrived in town and on our first night together Noom came swaggering out of his bar proudly wearing the T-shirt my money had netted him. It was bright yellow, hard to miss even if it had not been encapsulating the world’s most beautiful body. But it was the large Western Union Money Transfer emblazoned across his chest that made me roll on the ground with laughter. When I got control of myself I explained why, for a moneyboy, that might be a bit too much truth in advertising. It took him a few moments to connect the dots. And then his braying laughter echoed down the street.

Noom loves a good joke. Even when he doesn’t understand it. I wasn’t sure, despite his laughter, if he got this one. Especially since he was wearing it. Buy after giggling with glee a few minutes more and repeating loudly what he considered the punch line, “Wetrn Union!” several times, he sobered up and got control of himself, gave me a serious look, and managed to get out, “I lie you,” before dissolving into yet another bubbling ball of giggling muscle. I probably would have laughed more at his joke, but was too fascinated with how the letters in Western Union rippled across his chest as he gulped down air to sustain his laughter. That too is a problem with owning the world’s most beautiful body. It is too much of a distraction for people to pay attention to your bad jokes. But then it always puts a smile on their faces anyway.

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