Courting danger

Kathoey Bom turned up drunk. That's his normal state when he arrives, after finishing work at his karaoke shop nearby. He's popular over there, and customers like to buy him drinks.

Young Tock dropped in soon after, and gave me a beautiful smile. He looked tired, and had dark rings under his eyes. Bom gave him a drink from his glass of whisky, which he accepted happily, before wandering home alone.

So many of my young friends return home alone - presumably because they know the sun has to rise again tomorrow, when they will pass through the routines of another busy day again.

While I minded the shop, Mum zipped down to the 7-11 on her motorbike to buy food, which we then spread out together on the bartop to eat.

At 4am I was preparing to leave, as I needed sleep. Kathoey Bom, however, turned down my invitation for a lift home.

'I want to visit the boys at Sanam Luang,' he said.

This is another one of his habits, after work. I don't know why he bothers, as he is on a meagre income.

If he came with me, I could give him a lift home in my taxi, as we live in the same direction. But he would rather spend money buying beers for young men he does not know - and who probably earn much more than he does, selling their bodies for sex.

I presume he gets there by taxi, which is an extra expense. At the end of that, he has to get a bus home, with several connections, which can take him at least an hour.

I doubt the gays over there are worth it, even if he feels lonely. Even under lights, you do not know what you are getting - and that's just what you can see on the outside.

'Would you like to come,' he asked, not for the first time.

'I am too old for all that,' I replied.

Mum chipped in with a thought of her own.

'You remember how neat and tidy poor Ton was - and look what happened to him,' she said sadly.

We all miss young Ton, the gay masseur who lived in the soi (street) next to the shop, and died of Aids after one risky fling too many.

Thailand being such a strange place, occasionally I fancy I might meet him one day again, even though I know he is dead.

He will walk past the shop on his usual route home after work. We will ask where he has been, and he will declare that those stories about his demise were exaggerated.

I know in my heart that it is unlikely to happen. Life may be cheap here, and relationships fleeting - but there is no certainty like death.

'Go straight home - it's safer,' Mum told me.

I agree.