Boyfriend revives, dad has second thoughts

Maiyuu has perked up, now that he realises I am devoting more time to him, and less energy to my friends in the slums.

He starts chattering from the moment he gets up, and rarely lets up until night.

That makes a change from recently, when getting anything out of him but for the most rudimentary speech was a struggle. He would make a meal, utter a few words, and retire to the couch in front of the TV, usually to sleep.

Maybe it is true: I really have been a bastard.

Of course, everything could fall apart. He could enter one of his paranoid, neurotic phases (‘People are watching me!), and I could be left wondering why I bothered.

But regardless of how our relationship ends up, I believe that I owe it to myself to change.
-

I am tired of taking on the mantle of dad in the slum.

When Ball’s mother asked me the other day if I would care to help her pay for a family motorbike, I realised something was wrong.

‘How about you buy Ball just a bottle of beer a day...and put the rest in a piggy bank, to help me pay for a motorbike?’ she asked.

‘Ball and his girlfriend can use it to get to work every day.’

Mum wants my help paying for the bike because she doesn’t have enough cash to make the repayments herself.

This is despite the fact that she has B100,000 tied up in an informal lending scheme, from which she draws interest.

On top of that, she spent B150,000 buying a pick-up truck months ago, which is still in the care of the ‘authorities’, after her son and a ne’er do well from the slums were caught using it to sell stolen petrol.

Once the truck comes back, why not sell it, and recoup the investment?

As for the motorbike, Mum wants to buy it on tick: no deposit, but monthly repayments of B3,000 a month for two years.

Her eldest son Boy would chip in as well.

When I spoke to her about it last, Mum had just spent the day looking at motorbikes with Mr B.

They were keen on a Yamaha Fino bike, which would complement the other two run by the family to do errands, and get its members to work.

Yet why should I bother?

Mum invites me to take part because she knows I care about Mr Ball’s welfare.

Ball’s response?

‘These are our financial problems, not his,’ said Ball, referring to me. 'Don't bother farang Mali with them.'

Ball is worried that if my money is diverted to helping Mum pay for a motorbike, he will have less to drink.

That’s an understandable reaction. But he also speaks the truth when he urges his mother to sort out these problems herself.

Maiyuu's message of hope, divided loyalties

‘I hope to have a good birthday this year, as my last one was sad. And next year, I hope to find true love.’

That’s a message from boyfriend Maiyuu, which he sent me this morning.

It wasn’t an ordinary SMS, sent in ‘real time’, but one he wrote in advance, and programmed his phone to pass on to me.

It arrived the first time a few days ago, on his birthday last Wednesday.

This morning, for some reason, it turned up on my phone again. Is he trying to tell me something?

A gentle ring-tone alerted me to its arrival. I was in the land of half-wake, half-nod when my phone, which I had tucked in the folds of a blanket close to my bed, started humming.

It was not my usual ring-tone, but a special one, with earnest, soft tones.

Perhaps it is reserved for sad love messages from my boyfriend; maybe my phone just knows.

I opened it, and bleary-eyed, read its contents.

Those parting words linger in my mind: 'And next year, I hope to find true love.'

Last year, Maiyuu invited a couple of his women friends to dinner, which he cooked himself. One of the dishes failed to work out, and we teased him about it.

Maiyuu has never forgotten the moment, as for him it felt as if we were making fun of him.

I told him we were just playing around, but my assurances failed to work.

We did nothing special for his birthday which passed on Wednesday, though I hope he can start to forgive me.

At least it wasn’t as trying an experience for him as last year’s celebrations. It was Maiyu and me, sitting at home. We did not invite his women friends, or anyone else, to take part.
-

Maiyuu and I, as readers might have gathered from the short piece above, are back in each other’s good books.

As he heads out the door on his green push bike every morning to buy groceries, I fuss over him. As I stagger around the place looking for food (I am hungry every five minutes), he makes gentle jokes to cheer my spirits about my growing middle-aged tummy.

I hope it’s not just a sentimental post-Christmas thing, as I want these good times to last.

-

‘I hope you haven’t forgotten my birthday on the last day of the year,’ said Mum chirpily.

Mum’s birthday falls on New Year’s Eve.

She asks family and friends to her place to celebrate what is usually a big affair. Everyone in the slum hears about it, though not everyone is invited.

At Ball’s request, Mum called me at work.

Ball rarely calls me himself, as he believes it is more appropriate for his mother to make contact. She usually asks when I am coming around again, to help feed her son’s drinking habits.

Oops! Did I say that?

‘We haven’t seen you for a while,’ she said.

True, I have been busy with work and haven’t dropped in for two days.

If I spend even a day away from them, the emotional ties which bind us together start to unwind, perhaps because the experience is not quite 'real', or not what I want.

I doubt I will drop again today either.

Part of me wants to go, to reassure myself that I will still enjoy their company, am still close to Mr Ball, and that they fill an empty part of my life.

Another part of me wants to carry on investing time in Mr Maiyuu, in the hope we can make something more of our lives together.

Slum visits give me doubts about the life I lead with Maiyuu.

Too much time spent with Maiyuu gives me doubts about the slum.

It is an emotional juggling act I perform constantly, and at my age, one I can do without.

A merry little pork ribs Christmas

Pork ribs, cauliflower, pumpkin and a dark sauce. No, it's not traditional Christmas fare, but it was our version of Christmas dinner in Bangkok. Chef Maiyuu made it for us last night.

I praised him for the dish (not pictured here...sorry, I was too hungry).

'That tasted just like a Christmas meal in the West!' I said.

'It was supposed to...it was Xmas Eve, so we had to eat that way,' he said matter-of-factly.

I realise we are supposed to have turkey with such things, but never mind.

At my work function celebrating Christmas, we tucked into Chinese noodles, meatballs on a stick, and roast duck, among other things. No turkey there either, but who is complaining?

-
My bosses have decided I deserve a little extra money this year, and have awarded me a performance-related bonus, the first time my company has come up bonuses tagged to achievement at work.

Previously, staff were awarded a bonus across the board, or we weren't, depending on how the company's balance sheet is looking. The only exception was the lowest-paid staff, who get them regardless. Two weeks pay, anyone?

I don't know how much it is worth yet - that will have to wait until pay day next week.

I suggested to boyfriend Maiyuu that he might like to let me keep it. However, he proposed that we put it towards a trip he wants to take to his home town in Chon Buri.

'My sister has called half a dozen times, asking me to pay a visit. But I can never go, as we don't have enough money,' he said.

I changed my mind. I have now told him he can keep the money, as I want him to take a break from the burden of looking after me.

'Please regard it as your Christmas present,' I said.

-
Merry Christmas to readers, and thank you for supporting this blog over the last year.

Forgotten birthday, 7-11 turn-off, piggybank offer

It’s Maiyuu’s 33rd birthday.

I forgot it, even though I had put a note in my calendar. 'I bet you remember the birthdays in the slum, no problem...but you forgot mine,’ he said.

When Maiyuu wants to announce bad news, he sings. He put these words in a tune as well. He was teasing, rather than being too serious. I denied the remark about the slum, of course.
-

He has asked for a loan of B1,000 to help him get through to next pay day.

My pay day, of course, not his.

I have already given him B2000 – half of it came from the fees which a doctor in this condo pays me to teach him English. The other B1000 came from my savings.

Sensibly, he asked for the latest B1000 as a loan, which I expect him to pay back next week.
-

‘Can you tell me the answers in English if I read you my homework?’

I was standing at the counter of the 7-11, waiting to pay for a purchase.

The girl serving me, a pretty young thing, had noticed I was a farang.

We had spoken briefly before, but never about much. I was lost in the fog of my own thoughts when I realised she was talking to me about English.

‘Yes..,' I said.

‘’My teacher has given me as assignment. I have to hand it in tomorrow. If I read you the questions, can you tell me the answers?’ she asked.

‘’What...now?’ I asked.

Two or three people were waiting behind me.

‘Yes.’

‘Can’t we sit down somewhere...out the back?’I asked reluctantly.

I don't want to give the girl ideas.

‘No...it has to be here.’

‘I am busy. Let’s try tomorrow, shall we?’

Suddenly, the deadline for her assignment was magically extended by a day.

'Can you come in tomorrow about 5pm?’she asked.

I avoided the place, and returned for the first time only yesterday.

It was a week since that conversation, and the girl, thankfully, was away.

I do not want to help with someone’s English, at one of the busiest times of the day at the local 7-11.

If she can’t find the answers herself, she’s probably not interested. And if she’s not interested, why should I bother?

-

‘How about some new drinking rules?’ said Mum.

She was perched on the couch, talking about the cost of life in the slum.

Mum’s household runs two motorbikes, which is not enough to meet its needs. Hardly a day goes by without some problem befalling the motorbikes.

Here, a burst tire. There, one of her children caught driving the things without a licence.

Previously, the family owned three bikes, but one was stolen.

Boy, the second child, owned his own bike, but a few days after he started military service, it was stolen. That was more than a year ago.

Boy is now back home, his service as a conscripted soldier having ended. He is out of work, though Mum says he will soon take up a job an in-house bank electrician.

‘How about you buy Ball just a bottle of beer a day...and put the rest in a piggy bank, to help me pay for a motorbike?’ she asked.

‘Ball and his girlfriend can use it to get to work every day.’

The deposit required is minimal. But the monthly payments for a new bike would come to B3000 a month over two years.

I spend more than B1000 a week at Ball's place, most of it on alcohol. I could help his mother.

Ball, needless to say, was unimpressed.

We were sharing a drink in our usual position, cross-legged on the floor. Mum was sitting on the couch next to us, the first time I had seen her at home in days.

‘These are our financial problems, not his,’ said Ball, referring to me. 'Don't bother farang Mali with them.'

Ball is worried that if my money is diverted to helping Mum pay for a motorbike, he will have less to drink, which is true.

I like the idea, though it might mean that I have to visit them less as a result.

I want Mr Ball to do something more constructive with his life than sitting with me, thinking about what might have been.

Drinkers are always talking nostalgically about the past. How many contemplate the future?

Booze saps their will to make something of their lives. I am almost tempted to say yes to his mother - though it all seems to too easy for her, so I probably won't.

Pre-Christmas rant

'I have hopped on a bus!'

'I have hopped off again!'

Perhaps, as I contemplate falling advertising revenue and almost complete absence of reader reaction on this blog, I should consider doing something different.

Maybe I should pack up this blog and join the ranks of Twitterites, who seem prepared to share any dismal detail of their lives, no matter how uninteresting to the rest of us.

The comments to this blog have all but dried up, and advertising revenue is almost non-existent.

Readership, oddly, is rising, but if I can't have reader reaction and even a pittance of advertising revenue to reward my efforts, I would rather not bother.

So, here is a plea to readers: if you have something to say, please say it.

Otherwise, you might open this blog one day and find it given over to the banal chitter chatter of Twitterites instead.

Gone will be more considered responses about what it means to get on and off that bus in Bangkok.

Gone will be Maiyuu's 'take' on his farang boyfriend, or what this farang happens to think of him.

Almost no Thai bloggers give you accounts of day-to-day life in this city. BOTM2 virtually alone in that regard, and the others, in my opinion, aren't worth reading.

Up to you.