
He makes a cooked Thai meal for us to eat every morning, bless him.
At night, Maiyuu cooks again while I am at work, so I have something to eat before bed.
The other day, he made a custard cake. 'I took it out too soon, and the cake part went hard,' he said later.
The same night, I paid a visit to Pink Gins, a university teacher who lives in the same condo as us.
Nor would he let me take a picture of the thing. 'It looks normal enough,' I said.
'I want to make it perfect, first,' he said.
-
I have been going through a few old Kew stories. Remember Kew, the ageing barboy from Pattaya?
I took half a dozen of them down a few months ago, as I thought they made me look naive, and lowered the tone.

After thinking about it again, I decided to repost them, as they are entertaining as stories, even if many of the tales he told me about his life were lies.
At the time, I could not see through Kew. I knew he liked to fabricate stories, but I couldn't tell how much of what he told me was truth, and how much was fiction.
For years, Kew told me that his mother had died, leaving his aunt to care for him and his younger sister.
I caught him out on that lie, when I called his home number one day, and his 'deceased' mother answered.

However, that was just one of the bigger whoppers he told. In general, I now treat suspiciously any remark where he is paying money to people to support them.
With the passing of time, I have become more sceptical about Kew, which is a good thing. Now, when I read those old Kew posts, I can spot what I suspect are lies left, right and centre.
Here are a few samples. I've put the lies/suspected lies in italics. In some cases, I know they are lies, because I caught him out. In other cases, I just don't believe him, because it all sounds too fantastic.

From Young Man's Burden (part 1):
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'I have now paid off the mortgage on the condo, so we own it ourselves,' says Kew proudly. His mother, who is dead, left the place to Kew and his sister in her will.
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'Tonight she wanted to go out to celebrate New Year. I had only B300 left...I gave her most of it,' he said.
-
From Young Man's Burden (part 3):
I did not ask him whether he has gone to bed with any men. 'Some customers ask to sleep with me, but they have to pay extra for secks. I say they can sleep with me, but I must be fully clothed,' he said.

He claims he has bought himself a small self-protection device which he can use to apply an electric shock to people if they get too eager.
Some female customers, he says, ask him to drink with them. They drop drugs into his drink when he is not watching, in the hope it will make him more amenable to leaving with them.
From Run of Bad Luck (part 1):
I asked him how many times he had sold his body.
'About 20 to 30 times,' he said.
'If I went out with men, it was just for drinks.'
-

Read about that tale here.
I have not seen my young friend since I moved from Thon Buri, several months ago.
A few weeks ago, he called.
He was in a phone box close to my old place, he told me. No doubt wanted me to take him out for a drink.

'I don't live there any more,' I said.
'I have just walked all the way here,' he complained. 'Where have you moved?'
I told him.
'That's a long way...' he said, before we said our goodbyes.
I doubt we will meet again, unless I happen to pass through his area, or he ventures through mine.
When I am sitting in my rocking chair in years to come, I shall look back on the Thon Buri chapter of our lives fondly, perhaps.
These days, I view my Thai life mainly in terms of the boyfriend, work, or my work friends.
That sound might dull, but it's better than the strange upside-down life I led before, where the boyfriend was just the guy who cooked or sat in front of the TV at home.














































































































































