Thursday 22 March 2007

Odd one out (part 2, final)


As he drank, Paew would occasionally lean over in my direction, and spit on the ground (a nasty smoker's habit).

The older man carried on talking. He did not seem to notice that Paew was slurring his words, his head drooping ever lower. My duty was to keep the ice bucket full, and fetch the soda.

I also kept Paew supplied with cigarettes. Paew smokes three packets a day, and was lighting one after the other.

He smelt good - the alcohol was starting to mix with the scent he wore, and the nicotine seeping from his skin. But the pool of spit on the ground was getting so big it was becoming a small puddle.

Paew told me that he wanted to be my boyfriend. I have a boyfriend of my own, so that won't work. In any event, I don't want the kind of boyfriend who insists on sticking to me every moment of the day - as I suspect he might do, if given the chance.

'Thais are jealous, but I like my freedom,' I told him.

'I like freedom, too. You don't know me yet,' he said defensively. 'I am not the type who checks on people, or sponges...as you saw the last time we met, I paid for myself.'

He did indeed, but still I did not budge. My freedom to roam about, meet new people and learn new things is simply worth too much, even if the price I have to pay for it is occasional loneliness.

Boyfriend Maiyuu lets me have my friends of the night. I told him about Paew.

'You need to have your own friends, especially when I am not here,' says Maiyuu sensibly.

Paew smokes too much. If he carries on like that, he will die young. On a calculator, we worked out that over the last three years, while he has been smoking three packs a day, he has spent almost B200,000.

When the figure popped up, we laughed. I know I should act more responsibly towards my young man. As an adult, I feel a sense of duty towards my young friends, an obligation to make sure they take the right path. Their parents are rarely around, and in their absence they look to elder figures such as me for guidance.

Paew's friends, including Nong, left first. One boy paid an extra B100 for the drinks, on top of his own share. The others were effusively grateful. One gave him a hug, before they all joined in, hugging and slapping each other on the back.

As they walked away, I noticed a few were holding hands - a supportive, innocent gesture between these friends which looked all the more appealing because they were straight.

It was a touching scene, and I couldn't help but notice that Peaw was missing it. I wondered why he chose to opt out of such moments, in favour of spending time with oldies such as me and the bejewelled, smooth talking guy sitting next to him.

Eventually, Paew could drink no more. He found a taxi, climbed in, and left.

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