Dipping a toe in Thai life

A small update on Mr Ball.

Judging by some of the reader responses I have been getting, some of you have some odd ideas about Thais.

One unpleasant character left a message today saying I was having serious ‘boundary’ issues, and that my relationship with Ball was exploitative, built on self-delusion, and so on. He’s poor, and half my age, so I must be up to no good.

Others say we are using each other: I want to feel young again, and like to have someone to paw over. He likes my money.

The truth is more complicated; real life always is. These are stories not just of Ball himself, but also my relationship with his friends and family, and the other characters at carer R’s ya dong stand.

They are about our conflicting expectations, values, and backgrounds, and how we reconcile them. It’s about how people who are so different can still find enough things in common to be friends.

I can’t expect readers will understand or sympathise with all of what happens, especially if it beyond the realm of their own experience.

For the record, Ball is now drinking much less than when I met him. He stays up late, but no longer keeps the ridiculous hours he observed before. He does not have a job, but is making half-hearted attempts to find one.

Now that he knows I live with a gay man, he no longer shows me the affection he once did, as he doesn’t want me to get ideas. He is also worried that people in the neighbourhood will think he is selling himself to this middle-aged farang.

When we say goodbye at night, we shake hands.

All relationships evolve. Ball seems happier now that he is on better terms with carer R. I like to think that he is happy to have me in his life too.

We can both listen as he unloads about his family and girlfriend. He also knows that we can love him for what he is.

The other night, carer R found some bug on the ground, and without giving any warning, dropped it on Ball's lap.

Ball happens to hate this particular type of bug. As it fell in his lap, he was taken by surprise. He jumped back in his seat, and clenched his fist, as if he was about to hit someone.

I felt a wave of sorrow for my young man. He has so little life experience to protect himself against the unexpected. I worry about his welfare, especially in a rough place like the slum.

Sensibly, when he is not at carer R’s place or at work, he spends most of his time at home, rather than mixing with the element in the neighbourhood. He may be wayward, but his Mum has taught him a few lessons in how to look after himself.

At this difficult time in his life, what Ball needs most is friends. Few, if any of his friends from school or work call. ‘My phone is silent all day,’ he says.

In carer R and me, he has found two friends who can help him make sense of the demands which his family and girlfriend place on him.

Naysayers among my readers can think what they like. Over time, I’ll show you just how ordinary – and yet at the same time, how special – my relationships with Ball and my other Thai friends can be.