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Archive for May, 2006

Some Like it Hot

I was telling a friend how once, about ten years ago, I had lived for a few months with a ladyboy in Bangkok, and that the affair hadn’t lasted because she had such a hot temper that we were always fighting. “Didn’t you realise that before you moved in together?” he asked me. I said I had. “So why did you do it?” he asked. Well, I replied, rather lamely: she was so sexy.

He gave a snort of derision. “You were thinking with your dick,” he said.

I couldn’t deny it. But it was more than that. I genuinely cared for her. In fact, in the early days it was as close to the Real Thing that I am probably capable of getting.

Yes, I knew she was mad and bad. But we had also shared some beautiful times together, and I really thought there was a good chance that with a full relationship, plus the fact that she was only 18 and had some maturing to do, we could really make a go of it.

Of course there was the age difference, and the fact that ladyboys change immensely from their late teens onwards. But I just wanted to take the moment, selfishly. Later was later. I also knew I could help her in her ambition to go to university. Her family were dirt-poor, living off the land, and without help she didn’t have a chance.

She was from the Deep South, and Thais from the Central, Northern and Eastern regions are very wary of their Southern cousins. Ethnically they are hard to define: there is a fine cocktail of Malay and Indian mixed in with many Southern Thais, along with Burmese and Chinese blood. And of course, as events are currently illustrating all too well, the South is an uneasy place, prone to exploding into violence.

My ladyboy friend’s beauty was typically Southern, with big wide eyes that had a touch of Indian to them, and skin a perfect milk chocolate colour. But her hot temper was well and truly Southern also, and it was irrational. As for me, I had long gone past the stage where I was going to take nonsense from anyone, least of all an 18-year-old ladyboy. We fought, from the earliest days.

I rented a small apartment for us in a suburb of Bangkok, near a canal that leads into the city centre, so I was able to commute by boat every day. The building was a new one, nicely managed. I felt we had a pleasant home.

Her beauty was such that she could pass for a girl, without even wearing any makeup. I took her on holiday to a five-star hotel in Chiang Mai, and she attracted only awe-struck admiration. In fact at the airport, waiting for our luggage, a young guy tried to give her his phone number while I was collecting a trolley, but she regally ignored him. I took her to smart restaurants, and I carefully introduced her to friends. At least two of them fell for her, and one of them still asks me from time to time, “Do you still see that gorgeous Southern girl?”

But she was all mine. Back in the apartment she would strip slowly and parade in front of me completely nude, one of the most beautiful human beings I have ever seen, a slight figure with little hormonal breasts, a pert bottom, and something long and heavy that swung languorously between her legs as she walked. And of course those big, dreamy eyes, innocent yet lascivious.

Still, we fought. I discovered that she was the most selfish person on the planet. Any remonstration on my part, such as when she ran up a phone bill equal to our monthly rent, or used my cellphone until the battery ran down, or spent an entire allowance on makeup, would be met by an explosion of rage. This was followed by a period of sweetness, but soon the cycle became so predictable it was wearing.

Her temper went beyond words. I quickly learned to hide the paperknife. I developed a pattern of bruises on my arms from fending off heavy objects. After one argument I went and sat outside on the balcony only to find that she had locked the balcony door and gone out. Luckily there were window slats that I could remove and reach the key to let myself in, and I treasured her expression when she came back and found me inside again, nonchalantly reading a book.

But, as I say, it was all going too far. Once she threw a vase at me, and it bounced off my head. I’m not particularly into spanking, but I thought that’s what she might need, so I threw her face down on the bed and reddened her bare bottom. She went out of the room hissing with rage, and came back a bit later to throw my shoes out of the window (we were nine floors up). So it wasn’t that.

I think we lasted five months. By the end of that time we were becoming dangerous. The neighbours had complained, and the manager of the building was beginning to become considerably less friendly towards me than he had been.

I cursed myself for getting into the situation in the first place, but this was the time of the Asian financial crash and it was a bleak period in my life. So I ended the relationship and we moved out, and curiously my luck changed for the better immediately.

As for the girl, we became good friends, and remain so to this day. I kept my promise and put her through university: she kept her promise and got a good degree, and she now has a satisfying career. I’m happy I went through the experience, but I wouldn’t want to do it again.

Privates on Parade

Ladyboy yoI’ve written before on this page about my maid’s son. I’ve known him since he was in his early teens. I hadn’t realised before then that she had a son: she has two lovely little daughters but the boy was from an earlier relationship and he had been living upcountry. He had arrived with his mother one day to help her out with the housework, and I couldn’t help but notice he was good at ironing and dusting. He sang to himself in a high-pitched voice as he worked and he did tend to sashay around the apartment somewhat. I might have put it down to the oddities of being 14 years old, but my maid rolled her eyes and told me he wanted to be a ladyboy.

Since then however he has always stayed in that half-way zone, looking and speaking like a boy but wearing makeup and growing his hair long. He went into the jewellery business when he left school but is now studying tourism and hotel management, and is learning English to help him in what he hopes will be a career in the tourism industry. He is a thoroughly nice kid, and I’m always happy to see him turn up with his mother.

He is twenty-one now, and had to go back to his home province in the northeast of Thailand to undergo the medical for possible military draft. All young Thai males face this. The draft takes about ten percent of young Thai men each year and is done by a kind of lottery. If you are proved medically fit your name goes forward. You then draw a card: a black card releases you from any further obligation, but a red card means you’re a soldier now. And if you are selected there is almost no way out. No matter who you are, or whose son you are.

I have always believed that many young Thais become ladyboys simply to avoid being registered for the draft, because aside from the physical fitness aspect or lunacy one of the very few ways to avoid having your name put forward is to demonstrate extreme effeminacy. And it is no good a young guy putting on makeup and wiggling and pouting in front of the selection board: they’ve seen it all before. So the taking of female hormones begins, and once you have interrupted nature in this way in your mid-teens you have unleashed something you cannot always control.

Even this is not always a guarantee. Much depends on the needs of the Ministry of Defence at that time, for the numbers required are throttled up and down depending on political and economic policies. But an entertaining ritual for the media every year, and for the potential conscripts queuing up at the selection board centres, is the parade of ladyboys desperately trying to prove how utterly unfit they are to be trained killers.

Of course, silicon breasts are a help. For one thing, they get in the way when you are firing a rifle. The army is not big on troops with tits. I have known many a young ladyboy in a panic to save enough money for a breast job before going for the draft registration.

One in particular was Yo (pictured), who appears a few times on the main site. Yo was unable to take hormones as they made her ill, and as she was slim, agile and obviously in the peak of physical condition she worried herself sick over the strong possibility of being passed A-OK. She had saved for a breast op job but she didn’t have enough money. She contacted me and asked if I could help. I was travelling at the time but I was due back the day she had booked herself into the clinic. I met her outside the Nana Hotel and I’ll never forget how wan she looked, partly through worry, and partly because she was unable to eat or drink anything for 24 hours before the operation. When I handed the cash over, she almost flew to the clinic.

Although I have no intention of undermining Thailand’s defence efforts, I have on a few occasions helped other ladyboys in a similar situation. One or two would actually have made magnificent troopers, the great Talisha especially, who could have shagged an entire enemy regiment to death. But on each occasion I have helped out because I cared about the person involved. Conscription in England ended long before I would have been eligible but being patholigically unable to accept orders from anyone I would have myself been a dismal failure as a squaddie.

Anyway, my maid’s son returned from his home province a few days ago, beaming broadly. He had been turned down because he is so small and skinny he is under the required height-weight ratio. In more desperate times he would have been put forward, but this is a time of cutbacks and reduced military numbers, and so he was spared. Plus he is obviously as gay as a blade. He got to work doing my ironing, singing happily to himself. I did have to smile, I really did.