The sun was still setting, and young, fit, men in slick white underwear and white sneakers mulled about in small topless groups. The place was still pretty empty, and many young men were still arriving, tote bags slung over their toned shoulders. They walked like anyone arriving for work-- head down and with purpose. The two guys pointed out X-Boys and Dreamboys and we took a quick look inside another joint where a rehearsal was taking place. The guys on stage were in costume, which were rainbow panties, high-top sneakers, and red capes. They looked at us and I waved at them. (I wasn’t sure what I was supposed to do!).
“This is it.” One of the guys said as we walked back. “Looks great!” I replied. I thanked them for showing me around, and that I looked forward to checking it out. I don’t know how my face looked, but they told me to relax, to have fun, and to “make sure you negotiate everything before you take someone back to your hotel.”
When Saturday night around 10:30 came I, as planned, led my friends down the same route that the two guys had showed me before. I explained our options and we peaked inside a few. I ultimately decided for the group and took us to X-Boys because it was 300 baht, while Dreamboys was 580 baht. I am cheap.
A man dressed in a really wonderful floor-length black gown adorned with a pattern of big red roses led us inside and showed us to our seats along the back wall, but with a straight-on view of the stage. I was the last person to go up the stairs, and before I did, the madam confidently grabbed my genitals. We made eye contact and smiled at each other.
The show had just begun and a drag queen, flanked by two “backup dancers,” was on stage performing an awful routine to some forgettable pop song. She was off beat, the dancers were off beat, nobody-- including me-- knew the lyrics, and nobody seemed to care. The trio finished their piece, walked down the runway and exited the stage. The room went dark, and they played Whitney Houston’s “I Wanna Dance with Somebody.” My friends and I sang all of the words and jived along to the thumping baseline.
They cut the song short, and a man draped in what looked like a really long scarf took the stage. The spotlight found his face and the music started. The iconic saxophone of Careless Whisper by George Michael filled the room and I bursted out laughing. The man on stage, turned around sporting this longing-pouty expression while doing a type of slow motion moonwalk dance, but somehow remaining in the same place. I composed myself and watched the guy on stage look around-- squinting at people and gyrating. Soon, two other guys came out and stood on either side of the main guy. They removed his scarf to reveal an impressive Viagra-inflated and condom wrapped penis that was at least 8 inches long. The two boys grabbed some oil that was nearby and rubbed the main guy down. At one point, one of the ancillary guys got down on his knees and briefly performed oral sex. The main guy didn’t react-- remaining stoic in his pout. Like the two-bit drag queen, they dutifully finished their routine and exited the stage.
More American pop music played and my friends and I danced and sang along again. Then there was a shower scene for us to enjoy, where two guys in the back of the stage literally took a shower and talked to each other. After they were “clean” they came down the catwalk to the main area and did body rolls “on top of each other” (they were about a foot apart and never touched). And, they carried on with that conversation. This pair didn’t even bother finishing their routine. With about 30 seconds left on the track, they went to each side of the stage and masturbated for a few seconds then walked off...still talking to each other!
There was absolutely nothing sensual about this sex show-- frankly it wasn’t even sexual. It was just graphic. And at the end of the day, anatomy-- no matter how big-- is just anatomy.