the third sex

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I’m afraid that Sargeant Shameless has just sent me the following missive that is shameless even by his deplorable standards. I reproduce it only as a warning of how low a man can sink.

On my latest incursion into Patpong I stopped at KC3, Patpong’s only ladyboy-only bar to catch up on old friends and try to make new ones. KC3’s house rules are that as soon as a customer sits down, a bunch of ladyboys line themselves up in front of him and pester him until he agrees to pick at least one of them to buy a ladydrink or possibly more. But since the Sargeant plays by his own rules, he shooed all the nagging ladyboys away while scanning the bar for the prospect most to his liking.

Before I go any further with the story, I would like to make a small interlude here to clarify that the reason I was in Patpong that night was that I was on a date with a European woman, who was looking to buy a knock-off designer purse in Patpong’s night market. Spotting an opportunity, I suggested she look for the purse at her unhurried and exhaustive female shopping pace, while I looked myself for a supposedly hard-to-find pair of men’s designer jeans. After we went our different shopping ways, I bought the first pair of jeans I saw and made a beeline for KC3. But the reality was that I had barely one hour before I had to meet my girlfriend again and thus was not even thinking of attempting any shameless endeavours.

Back to KC3. I did see a new ladyboy very much to my liking and invited her over for a drink. She started the usual small talk in hopes of bagging a paying customer. “What your name?” “Where you come from?” “How long you stay Thailand?” “You been to bar before?” The Sargeant just usually wings these questions as his mood strikes: sometimes telling the truth, sometimes not. So when the ladyboy asked, “Where you stay Bangkok?” I made up an answer by picking a number street out of my head: “Sukhumvit Soi 2″.

And then the most incredible thing happened: The ladyboy’s face lit up, she looked at me deeply and hugged me closely saying “I remember you now.” And she apologised with kisses for not having “recognized” me right away. Then she added ” I smoke yaba your apartment. You very good farang.”

Apparently, she had mistaken me for a Bangkok punter with an apartment on Soi 2 who had barfined her and provided her with all-you-can-smoke yaba (a crack-like drug favoured by Thai bartypes). Seeing the beautiful smile on her face, I did not want to disappoint her and just made a sheepish face as if saying, “I was afraid you would never recognise me.” Well, whoever the Soi 2 guy was, he sure made an impression on the ladyboy, as she took such a fancy to him that turned to me and said “You not fuck me that time, you can fuck me now, no money OK.”

My eyes popped out, my pulse started racing, and the shameless knob started throbbing against my zipper. I had about half an hour before the agreed time to meet with my girlfriend so I had to decide fast. This being the kind of situation the Sargeant lives for, I knew I had to go for it, and just hope the other guy did not have a small dick or some other feature that might give me away. So I pulled out the money for the barfine, told her to get dressed and hurry up to one of Patpong’s short time lounges. We made our way there separately, just in case my girlfriend was within visual range (thank heavens she wasn’t!). The encounter was much shorter than the Sargeant would have liked, but I made the point of penetrating her as soon as I got hard and of doing it from behind to minimise chances of her looking at me and realising her confusion.

In the end, I offered to give her 300 baht (less than 10 US$), which she accepted without bitterness at how small it was and even gave me one more big, heartfelt hug. I would have given her more money, but that would have spoiled the experience of me getting a freebie, which was the whole point.

I did make it back to my girlfriend at the agreed spot on time as she happily waved a fake Dolce&Gabana purse at me and I reciprocated by pulling out of a bag a pair of studded fake Armani jeans. Turns out they were not even my size so I had to go back to Patpong the next day to exchange them. But that’s another story.

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Ronnie Kray famously used to say, “I might be queer, but I’m not a poof.” And you know something? No one ever disagreed with him.

I tend to feel this way about ladyboys. A ladyboy, after all, is biologically male. If you consider yourself to be a straight person, then finding ladyboys a turn-on is decidedly queer, at least in the dictionary sense of the word, ie peculiar.

For those who might worry about their sexuality because they have realised they find ladyboys exciting, there is a simple litmus test. Think back over the course of the day, and ask yourself: Who was I looking at out in the streets? Was I eyeing up the girls, or the fellers?

Another test occurred to me recently, when an extensive overseas visit meant that I didn’t set eyes on a ladyboy for three weeks. As a result, I was plagued by erotic dreams. A few were about ladyboys, but overwhelmingly the dreams were about genetic girls. I didn’t once have an erotic dream about a man.

In the occasional dream where I do find myself in a sexual situation with a male, my dream responses are those of repugnance. My reaction to the idea of having sex with a man is pretty much that of a conventional straight male: No.

So, as I have said here before, there is a dividing line somewhere in which a young male ceases to be male and becomes as alluring to me as would a girl.

This might be because of the subliminal impulses triggered by a ladyboy taking female hormones, but often I find those who don’t take the stuff to be more attractive than those who do.

In fact, I often find ladyboys who have taken hormones for many years and who consequently have an over-egged appearance and a flaccid dick to be a real turn-off. The same applies to those who have put too much plastic in their faces. And post-ops I simply have no use for. I have seen too many surgically created pussies in my time, and examined too many of them closely, to find them remotely interesting.

Back to the old conundrum, then. What is it about a ladyboy that triggers the erotic senses? What is the actual tipping point? I’ve posed that question here before so many times, but I still don’t have the answer.