|Don’t forget the sponge and a bar of Dettol!|
I would do anything for adventure.
But I won’t do that.
What’s that? I’m glad you asked. Keep reading.
Today I was having lunch with a Belgian guy and his two French friends, and one of the French guys told me about a special Thai massage — a naked Thai massage! — that I just have to experience. Now I’ll try everything twice, and I love to find myself in extremely awkward situations because they provide excellent fodder for this blog. But considering how I felt about the female massage therapist fingering my private parts from outside my shorts several weeks, ago, I just don’t think I could go here.
It begins with a line-up of beautiful Thai guys. You choose: short or tall, muscular or lean, top or bottom. (Actually, that last one isn’t one of the choices, but I threw that in there because it comes up in pretty much every conversation in Bangkok involving gay men.) Once you pick the one you want, the two of you get undressed and hit the shower. After he soaps you up and rinses you off — which is included in the rate (1,300 baht for one hour, or about $43) — the pressing and tugging begins.
Are you still with me? Because at this point in the conversation, my mind started to drift off as I struggled to keep my food down. I tried to wrap my head around the idea of getting a sponge shower by a beautiful naked stranger. What happens if you get aroused? If you grab him and start kissing him, do you have to pay extra? Are there condoms on hand just in case you want to take your steamy shower to the next level? Who applies for these jobs anyway?!
At least you know he’s clean, one of my lunch mates said, and he had a point. But while it certainly would be better than getting a sponge bath from a cranky overworked nurse, I generally prefer to take a hands-on (my hands!) approach when it comes to the ablution of my nether regions.
From what I understand, the rest of the massage is pretty standard, except that the guy rubbing you down isn’t wearing any clothing. I don’t know which would be most uncomfortable: being stretched out on a massage table in the nude, being straddled by a nude masseuse, or both at the same time.
The happy ending, by the way, is optional.
The guys also told me about a show they went to last night that, um, climaxed with two guys actually having sex on a staircase. (Thank God they used condoms, which almost makes it seem like live porn and a public service announcement rolled into one.) I know some people like to watch, but I’ve never been one of them.
It’s probably why I’ve never gotten into porn. I don’t even like to catch myself in the act. It’s the reason why I turned down an offer to get rich quick by doing porn shortly after I moved to New York City, and one of the reasons why I don’t have sex in front of mirrors. There’s a mirrored closet next to my bed in Buenos Aires, and I always had to position myself so that I didn’t catch any accidental glimpses. If a videotape ever surfaced of myself in flagrante delicto, I’d probably go into hiding for a 10 years. I’m not joking.
I’m still scarred from the time I saw two guys doing it on the bar (without a condom!) in a dive in downtown New York City. For now, I think I’ll stick with the shirtless Thai go-go boys dancing on the stage at G.O.D. At least they keep their hands — and other parts — to themselves.
Then, of course, there’s the Ping Pong Show. I’ve been hearing about this one since I arrived in Bangkok in July, but I still haven’t checked it out. In the Ping Pong Show, women do all kinds of crazy things with their vaginas, like open Coke cans and shoot ping pongs from them (their vaginas, not the Coke cans). No, it doesn’t sound possible to me either, but I suppose seeing is believing.
I’ll pass on the naked masseuse and the live porn, but a beautiful Thai woman opening a can of Coke with her vagina? This I’ve got to see. I just hope I don’t get hit by one of those ping pongs!