Just thought I’d get the bitch slaps in right up front with the title . . .
This is the third and final part of what was originally intended to be a 738 part post in honor of my favorite blogger and his fondness for beating a subject to a bloody death. And beyond. But I’ve already provided enough backstory and explanation in the previous two parts, and beating around the bush further just delays the inevitable. So here’s the problem . . .
Noom, my bar boy friend and current love of my life, is one of the most incredible guys I’ve ever met. He’s got a body to die for and a heart larger than Oprah’s ass. And for some unfathomable reason, to borrow from Sally Field, he likes me, he really likes me. So, okay, he does have that fault.
I saw Noom last just before Thanksgiving last year on a short trip to Bangkok, the primary purpose of which was to make good on a promise I’d made to my nephew to take him to Thailand to get him laid for his 18th birthday. Noom was thrilled to meet another member of his family. I think he was even more thrilled to be spending his evenings in gogo bars that displayed vagina for a change. My nephew was just happy that I didn’t set him up with a ladyboy. Getting laid a dozen times put a smile on his face too. But that’s a story yet to be told. As well as a threat of a story to be told to his mother. In any case, Noom and I were glad to have had the time to spend together, sad that it was too short, even sadder that we were separating yet again, and happy about looking forward to my next visit and the next time we would be able to see each other once again. That was then. And between us nothing has changed.
So here’s the problem . . .
A few weeks after returning home we were blessed with one of those days that only Californians can expect in December and I decided to take advantage by returning to a scene I’d spotted the week before while driving through the foothills. There was an old dilapidated barn sitting maybe half a mile off the highway, the sole structure amidst an expanse of knee-high wild grasses still golden brown from the summer’s heat and shimmering in the gentle blasts of air making their way down through the mountain pass. It was a scene worthy of Ansel Adams if he’d ever bothered to spring for color film. And good for an hour or two of indulging my photography jones.
I’d spent about a half hour snapping shots when some asshole decided to interfere; another photographer who couldn’t resist the sun’s play over the bucolic scene. In a small crowd of strangers you can acknowledge the presence of others with a slight smile and nod of the head. When there are only two of you, politeness dictates something more. An insincere greeting if nothing else. But then I’ve never been accused of being polite. Instead I said hi by accusing him of trying to steal my shot. That type of greeting is usually good for at least a momentary look of concern. But he laughed, immediately, and then told me it was a shame that whatever photos I’d be taking would never be as good as his. Yup, it was love at first bite.
Photography, like masturbation, is a solo sport. While you may occasionally share the fruits of your labor with someone else, it’s really about your own equipment and what you can do with it. After our quick bout of Who Has The Bigger Dick, we separated, and spent about an hour engrossed in setting and lining up the type of shots that cause most people to shake their head in bafflement, trying to make the most of a scene that with the exception of a few rickety buildings that had lost their battle with the elements was an otherwise featureless landscape where nature seemed to have run out of ideas. A rusty stave here, a partially buried piece of equipment only those with a cowboy fetish would recognize there, an occasional glance at what the other guy was shooting proved that besides being surly, we shared the same taste in photographic subjects. And thanks to the digital age, the few times we ended up standing in the same place we’d quickly flash our best award winning shots for the other guy to properly admire. If admire is the right word for caustic comments about lousy depth of fields, angles, and the dire need of cropping.
Tiring of the barn’s one-note act, Phil – as I learned his name was once we got around to introductions later – nodded toward a few equally world-weary outbuildings further up the hillside, a small grouping of boxy structures perched on tall, skinny stilts reminiscent of the illustrations in a Dr. Seuss book. Our solo efforts became a group grope and we headed up the hill with him leading the way which, conveniently, allowed me to check out his ass. It was as fine as the rest of him.
Falling back into our routine of ignoring each other until another opportunity presented itself to prove who was the better photographer, Phil finally committed a foul by, in response to my incredible shot of a weather beaten wood support post, he showed me his latest treasure: a picture of me. Though he controlled himself from making a comment about the similarity of the two photos, I scoffed at the idea of my suitability as a male model anyway. Phil brushed away my protest. “No. Seriously. The strength in your face . . .,” he said. And then gave me The Look.
So here’s the problem . . .
Phil is gay; he’s out to family, friends, and acquaintances who care enough to notice without the demand for a proclamation to satisfy their curiosity. Filipino-Hawaiian with the typical smattering of a conglomeration of Anglo-Saxon bloodlines that are responsible for making island boys so beautifully exotic, he’s a transplant from O’ahu and now lives a mere 20 minutes from where I do. A hunk with a nicely defined muscular build and the shade of dusky brown skin that gets even my little toes hard, he’s 32-years-old, and – with apologies to Sally Field once again – he likes me, he really likes me.
That afternoon, we quit ignoring each other and then ended up spending the rest of the day, evening, and night together. (I know, a gay meets gay has hot, steamy, sex in a secluded outdoor setting scene would have made for a much better tale, but – unfortunately – we managed to keep our clothes on for several hours instead.) We got together again a few nights later, made a habit of that, found time to spend together for Christmas, traded New Year’s Eve countdown kisses, and went from getting in touch with each other to see if we both had the weekend free to just assuming we’ll spend every night together unless one of us has another engagement and says differently.
One of the nice things about aging is the incredible number of gay boys who are into daddies. I get laid more since turning fifty then back when I could understand why some hottie would want to get tangled in the sheets with me. The only problem is too many of those guys want to call you daddy. And want you to call them son. Unfortunately when “Oh, Daddy!” becomes the mating call, far too often diapers or corporal attention to their buttocks soon follows. Not that I can’t or won’t role play (at least until the diaper thingy comes up) but for many it is beyond a mild infatuation and instead is a true fetish. Enlivening your sex life is one thing, when it’s a mandatory part of your mutual orgasm, it’s a bit too much and I can’t really be bothered.
But Phil is not into daddies. He has had boyfriends younger, the same age, and older than he is in the past. It’s scary when you met a gay guy who’s actually normal. It’s even scarier when you’ve been enjoying an unattached life of sexual freedom to meet a gay guy you begin to think of as a boyfriend. Especially when he’s hot. And feels the same way about you. And appears to have absolutely no interest in wearing diapers.
Besides sharing with me an interest in photography, and sex, Phil loves travel too. Though his arena has been South America primarily while my interest has been SE Asia. I’ve shown him a few photobooks of my shots from Thailand – there’s no competition about who has taken the best shots of Bangkok since he hasn’t been there – and he wants to accompany on my next trip. He’s also seen pictures I’ve taken of Noom – ‘cuz what value is a photobook of shots of Thailand without shots of Noom included – and considering both the frequency and intimacy of those photographs, who Noom is and what he means to me has been discussed. To some degree. We’ve yet to put a name to what the two of us are currently sharing, there have been no spoken commitments about being faithful, or considerations about what our future may hold. So jealousy – or concern – over a Thai bar boy has not been a problem. But then that view may be different when said hunk is staring you in the face. That Noom and Phil will meet is a given. How those two (in my mind) separate relationships manage to allow for the other – or not – is yet to be seen.
So here’s the problem . . .
I want my cake. And I want to eat it too. Straying outside of a committed relationship for sex, when it’s only sex, and when that act has been blessed by both parties involved, is one thing. When that sex also involves love, respect, friendship, and caring, it’s a different story. Obviously a three-way is the answer. But outside of my fantasy life, that’s not likely. That’s like buying a lottery ticket. You hope you win, it’d be nice to win, the chances of winning millions of dollars however are slim to none.
With the exception of wanting to make sure I do not hurt him in anyway, I do not see a problem with Noom’s side of the equation. Fortunately, we’ve gone through a similar scenario when my buddy Dave and I revisited our old haunts in Bangkok accompanied by Noom that time around. Both did fine at first, and then it became a bit problematic when each realized there was love in addition to friendship involved. But once Noom learned his position was not threatened, it was no longer a concern. The difference is that in that battle Noom had sex on his side, Dave did not. Even though we did all end up naked in bed together. (I really, really need to stop wishing for that three-way resolution!)
I love having sex with Noom. I love having sex with Phil. I’d love to have Noom for sex when I’m in Thailand, and to have Phil for sex when I’m not. But with neither guy is it sex and sex alone. Regardless of how much I love the sex. Just in case I failed to mention that before. How the sex part of our relationships will shake out when all three of us are in Thailand is part of the question. Though that could easily end up being me shaking it on my own. I know – and just don’t yet want to admit to it – that that probably means giving up doing Noom. Unless I hit the three-way lottery. And I suspect – and just don’t yet want to admit to it – the same will hold true for not just when Phil is with me in Thailand, but for any future trips I make on my own. Assuming what Phil and I share continues to grow into a full blown relationship. Which is safe to assume.
Phil is a pretty levelheaded guy. Meaning he doesn’t act like a woman. I do not foresee him objecting to my continued friendship with Noom. A friendship that incudes sex may be different. The commitments I’ve made to Noom and my continued support of his efforts to make a future for himself are not on the table for discussion; behaving myself while doing so may be an issue. I fell in love with a bar boy, because Noom being Noom, how could I not? But now I’m falling in love with an equally incredible person, one with whom there holds the promise of a relationship beyond what Noom and I can have.
So there’s my problem . . .
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SA. said:
I’m not all that surprised that this has worked out like this. Although I have never met you, you do seem like a really decent guy, and that it would be only a matter of time before someone back home swept you off your feet.
These decisions you face here are for you to make alone, in consultation with your conscience and your morals towards these (now) two very special people in your life – except to say that you can have your cake and eat it too, you just need to work out how you slice that cake so that everyone is happy with the slice they get – and that may present more unexpected challenges for you.
Oh, doesn’t Noom read this blog?
Bangkokbois said:
Thanks SA. Finding a path that works for everyone is my ultimate goal. It is nice that the two guys I have to consider are not prone to emotional ranting so that when we discuss it it will be a rational talk.
Noom doesn’t read my blog much. He clicks in occasionally, looks for pix of himself, and if there are none then there’s no good reason for him to keep reading. Which is a good thing. Whether it is the there of us or just Noom and I, I want to tell him about what’s happening face to face so that there are no misunderstandings and so that any concerns he has can be dealt with then and there. I know him will enough to know he’ll be happy I’ve met someone and that it won’t be a major problem as long as he knows his place in my life is still secure.
SA. said:
I think you’ve got 90% of it worked out already. Your comments here on this post are very considerate and not selfish at all…….a real rarity in personal traits these days.
You have gone up a couple of notches further in my estimation.
Bangkokbois said:
Thanks SA, but it’s that other 10% that is gonna make life interesting!
We’ll see how it goes . . .
john said:
I could get into so much trouble with him. That is if Choa did not kill me first
Bangkokbois said:
Ahhhh but what a way to go, huh?
Mitch S. said:
“Torn between two lovers” just like Beachbore. One at home & one in Thailand just like Beachbore. The parallels are eerie. 😉
Bangkokbois said:
Boo Hoo already tried floating that balloon.
Huh. That makes me a bit suspicious – do you have a watermark fetish too Mitch?
Mitch S. said:
Beachbore seems to be the frontrunner in SGT’s “guess the next owner” contest. Best wishes to you! I’ll register again when you take over.
I don’t stay up to date on Boo Hoo’s blog, since life is short and there are many, much better things in life to read, but I’m pretty sure this bon mot by Boo Hoo on Gaybutt was directed towards you:
“For all of the talk on forums and sites with nothing much more to offer than negativity” http://www.gaybuttonthai.com/viewtopic.php?f=3&t=5603
Bangkokbois said:
LOL!
I love unintended irony!
What a dipshit.
Alex said:
Wow #1, what a turn of events! That’s not at all what I had expected reading the prequels, to be honest. But that’s life, surprises wait behind even the remotest dilapidated barn. As for the name calling you’ve asked for, I’ll oblige and I’ll go with Lucky Bastard (that’s simply the first thing that came to my mind, nevertheless I realize that this new situation might well lead to complications), but I’ll leave the whipping and beating to Noom. He’s more entitled AND much stronger. 😉
Wow #2, taking your 18 y.o. nephew to Thailand to indulge in sex with prostitutes. I’m just glad he was at least 18 and you’re not Australian. I’m not sure if I’d even live to tell the tale before getting shot in case I did the same. As understanding as my family is regarding my own lifestyle, with something like that I’d definitely cross the line. I don’t know about you and yours, but maybe it’s better if his mother will never know about it (what happens in Bangkok stays in Bangkok, bla bla bla). 👿
Bangkokbois said:
🙂
I’ll have to post that story soon. I gotta admit it was one of the most enjoyable times I’ve spent in Bangkok in quite a while!
And thanks for adding an adjective to Bastard. Most people who call me that never do. (Well, okay, there is the occasional ‘scum sucking.’)
Alex said:
Yes, please post that story, I can’t wait! As I visit the girly bars every now and then myself, I’m sure it will be an interesting read for me.
And you’re welcome, emphasis on lucky anyway, not on bastard. 😉
Dekar said:
Well I would say that was a successful surprise. Do both know about your blog? If so then they both know latest by now the situation, although I would prefer to hear something like that rather directly than reading it.
If we were all rational beings then such construction wouldn’t be a problem but as feelings tend not to follow logical ways a long distance relationship tends to lose against a direct relationship, although I would not call writing over 90 posts in a blog about a love a normal long distance relationship.
It’s a bit heartbreaking after all the post to read a kind of end post to this story. So I hope that you win the lottery (god I hate getting emotional, but you know what I mean).
Bangkokbois said:
Thanks Dekar.
I assume too it is an end of some sort, though you never know. Ignoring that it probably means no more Noom sex (though I hope not) I’m looking forward to seeing him and experiencing how the changes in our relationship impacts him. I don’t think he’ll be traumatized by not having to put out any longer, but then that has always been the easy way for him to ‘take care of me’ so watching him deal with that alone will be interesting.
Hendrikbkk said:
What camera did you use?
Bangkokbois said:
More importantly, the camera’s battery was a Duracell.
tim said:
is that it … how simple .. which one has the biggest cock ?
problem solved !
Bangkokbois said:
True that, but part of the problem is they are both having to deal with a big dick . . .
lukylok said:
I always found similarities in your story and my own, and many times you helped me to see the reality – or not – of some situations.
But this time, I haven’t be confronted to such a situation. (yet ?)
I can only pastiche an earlier poster and qualify you of “lucky bastard”.
VERY curious to see how it evolves, but best of luck to all concerned !
Bangkokbois said:
Thanks Lucky.
I’m not sure if I should wish that you too get to experience the same or not.
🙂
raju said:
This is the first time I am writing to u but hv read yr mails regularly. U r quite incredible as a person in today’s world. U are honest and brutally frank, considerate to the extent of being indulgent with Noom but willing to let go of him if something turns up. Don’t worry! u will find an answer.
PS : Can u put some snaps of yr new boy friend and recent snaps of Noom. Preferably naked pls
Bangkokbois said:
Thanks Raju, it’s always nice to hear from a long-time reader.
Phil and I had a long take about Noom, Thailand, and our futures over this last weekend; part of that was introducing him to this blog, which I’m sure he’ll be reading over this week. I don’t know that running across a picture of himself posted here would necessarily be a good thing at this point.
🙂
We’ll have to wait and see on that one.
Noom, I’m sure will be showing up photographically again in the near future . . .
Shay O'Byrne said:
Loving your comments/observations as usual.
Apropos of nothing: I’m just back from Chiang Mai and Koh Samui – The M Hotel, Chiang Mai is closed yet again for ”upgrade”.
And sadly, Screw Boy in Bangkok has finally closed it’s doors. Like you, I suspect, I kind of liked this place for it’s unpretentiousness and ‘normal’ guys. I’ll miss it.
Good luck with your love life and all.
Today is Song Kran in Thailand. I’m wondering how wet I’ll be before I reach Tawan bar tonight.
Bangkokbois said:
Thank you Shay.
Huh. The M hotel closes during Songkran . . . business in Thailand amazes me. Last time they renovated prices went up to $100 before they dropped back to around $40. I don’t know what else they can do to the place to be worth more than that.
Hope you had a great time at Tawan, and got real wet afterwards!
alupalak said:
I knew this was bound to happen, the way you are promiscuous. I want to beat you, whip you (with ecstasy, of course) but for now, i’ll just call you slut.
Bangkokbois said:
Ouch!
I’d object to being called promiscuous and a slut, but since you just offered to have sex with me all is forgiven, Alupalak..
🙂