February fourteenth—valentine's day—the day high-school kids swoon over their crushes, gifting them little red heart stickers. The day university kids gift red roses and chocolates to the ones they admire the most. The day adults treat their partners to expensive dinners, release balloons in the air, pop bottles of champagne and prophesy their love to one another—the grand day of love—the whole world turns red on Valentine's Day, but there is a magical little side of Bangkok that turns the reddest—Silom Soi–the gayest side of the magical crazy city I called home.
Valentine's Day had always been one of my favorite times of the year; right after the Songkran festival, which holds the number one spot in my heart as a favorite holiday. Before I had completely given up on romance and riding into the sunset, I looked forward to it each year, and each year, it brought with it the most heart wrenching disappointments.
It didn't matter what relationship I was in, it was never as important to them as it was to me. I planned every detail, bought the gifts, took them to places, poured out my heart to them and they did the barest minimum—every time, putting in the tiniest efforts. I never got chocolates, roses, or stickers.
It didn't help that my preferred type were rough looking bad boys who towered over me and could easily pick me up and throw me over their shoulders. I had this fantasy that I'd find one with a heart of gold—oh boy, I was in for a ride. I came to understand they were called bad boys for a reason—they had no heart of gold.
I was late to this realization and learnt my lesson in the most brutal ways. I could go into detail, but this will quickly become one of those sad, sob depressing stories and it isn't my intention to tell one of those.
Nat and I had sworn off dating after the last Valentine's Day, the day I broke up with the man I thought was the one. We were done with men, the primary source of our heartbreaks. And for a year, we avoided the temptations of the loud city. Staying away from clubs and parties, keeping our celibacy.
However, Valentine's Day in the sexiest, sluttiest city in the world, was a sight to behold. When Nat and I weren't in relationships, we spent it together, immersing ourselves in the intoxicating ways of Silom Soi 2 and 4. Every night those streets came alive in the most exciting exhilarating ways, but on Valentine's Day, a different kind of allure lingered.
"We'd just go in and out... we don't have to do anything," Nat said, standing by the door as I applied my moisturizer.
"Nobody goes in and out, Nat, you know this."
"Oh come on, are you saying you don't miss it! You know that's a fucking lie."
"I don't," I jumped into bed, picking up my laptop, "what's there to miss, the pointless sex, the hangovers, the smell of sweat and ass?"
"Umm... yes." Nat laughed, joining me on the bed. "I'm not saying we should go back to the way things were, but the city is finally opening up again... Imagine it! Getting shit-faced, checking out hot guys; Kit, come on!"
"Have you forgotten we have the eco pitch tomorrow? Our presentation isn't ready and you haven't even completed the digital model." I shook my head.
"And I will! This is as important to me as it is to you."
"I know that."
"Then let's go! Uh? We only need to spend two hours, a few shots and we are back, straight to work."
"We cannot afford to be distracted! We cannot afford to not get into this competition, Nat."
"We'll get in! I promise, please please please." He shook me.
I took a deep breath and exhaled a loud sigh, falling back into bed. "We are staying celibate right? You promised. No pretty boys! No tank top daddies! None of that!" I warned with my eyes.
"I swear! Just me and the love of my life." He flicked my chin, grinning. I looked away with a smile.
"Fine, whatever."
"Really? Yes!" Nat leaped to his feet, jumping on the bed. "Let's slut this city up!" He twerked as I laughed.
After ten minutes of playful twerking and singing on my bed, we were off to get ready for Valentine's Night in Silom Soi. A simple t-shirt and jeans were all I needed to get ready, but for Nat, it was always a whole journey. He had me do his eye make-up first, then paint his nails, then we spent another forty-five minutes looking for the nastiest, sluttiest thing in his closet. His waist chain, black sheer crop-top, tight leather pants won the fashion show.
We first hit up Silom Soi 4, and while it was always busy, that night, the whole street was packed to the highest capacity, the gays had come out in droves—the horniest men, the lovebirds who had found forever, the pretty boys who had just moved to the city, trying to take it all in and find their place in the craziness of it all, the horny foreigners looking to get a taste of the gorgeous boys strutting around—everyone knew why the foreigners came.
The lockdown had just been fully lifted for the first time in almost two years and everyone needed a break from the tight protest for democracy and freedom of speech in the country that had been raging for weeks.
The fight between the police and the people left many injured or wounded, leaving several in hospitals. Everyone had someone affected by the protest, or knew someone who did—it seemed everyone needed a break and so they chose the part of town that dazzled with fabulous and extravagant entertainment.
Nat and I found the busiest bar and ordered as many drinks as we could in a bid to avoid paying three times the amount for alcohol in the clubs. As we drank and contributed to the noisy chatter, we could feel the lustful eyes on us, checking us out. If there was anything the men that roamed the streets of Silom Soi 4 loved to do, is check out each other, deciding who they'd claim for the night. They were not discreet about it either. They wanted you to know you were being lusted over, they wanted you to feel their desire to claim you in the most erotic way possible. It was part of the thrill.
By the time we had consumed enough alcohol to make us woozy, the eye-fucking became boring, it was time for the clubs. We made our way to Silom Soi 2—every decent Bangkok sinner knew all about the intense deviousness that happened within the walls of those sex clubs.
"Just because we aren't getting any, doesn't mean we cannot watch," Nat suggested. Next thing I knew, I was watching the most provocative, violent sex performance with a crowd cheering at the lewdness, half drunk.
We cheered and clapped as big hunky glistening men took turns on boys that looked like they would break if they went any harder on them. When the first performance was over, another line up of oiled up men climbed the stage, dressed in little white shorts and began a kind of erotic dance that ended with them wanking each other off, covering the floor with so much cum.
It's all a blur now, I remember it in flashes here and there. One minute I was screaming alongside Nat, next minute I was back on the streets finishing a bottle of water as Nat dragged me along to RAUNCH, just behind Silom Soi 2.
Raunch was where everyone wanted to be by the night's end. The biggest, most popular gay strip club in the whole region. There was an impossible line that night, it usually hit full capacity before 1am. Nat knew a guy—Nat always knew a guy—so he let us in ahead of others.
We walked into a massive rave. The Neon lights traveling across the club at the speed of sound, the crowd gyrating with their hands in the air, moving to the thump of the music, red confetti exploding as strippers in red shots, face masks and glitter were scattered around, dancing on poles.
Nat took my arm and we clawed our way through the crowd, trying to get as close to the DJ as possible. We only got as far as the middle of the dance floor, there we planted our feet.
The only difference between the scene in Rauch and the street bars of Silom Soi 4 was no one wasted time checking you out, they just show up to dance with you. Like bees looking for honey, the topless hunky bodies flocked to us, pulling us in and already staking their claim. To ward them off, Nat pulled me onto a stripper's stage, away from the hungry hands.
The stripper was an absolute darling, making room for us and hyping Nat up as he tried pole dancing with his waist chain and toned abs on display for all of Rauch to feast their eyes on. I on the other hand, struggled to keep myself from throwing up.
It was in my daze that something—someone caught my eyes: the most gorgeously crafted man I had ever seen, dancing on one of the poles. I swallowed and flushed as he moved his perfect perky ass in the tiniest little shorts, shirtless. I couldn't keep my eyes off him for a second. He was at a distance, letting the clubbers fill his shorts with cash as he danced, but the spotlight illuminated him to perfection. I could see every curve, every prickle of sweat, the little scar on his thigh.
He turned and I seized breathing for a second at the sight of his beaming chiseled face. His caramel skin glowed like pure honey under rays of Arabian sunset. I couldn't see his face clearly, his mask did a wicked job of concealing the magnificence from me. He looked towards my direction and suddenly, I could no longer hear the music, I could no longer smell the sweat and vapor that filled the air. My world stopped. He held my gaze as a smirk formed on his lips and I began to wonder if it was real—if he was real, or just the result of too much alcohol.