CallMeLee

I was so fixated with No.17 that time so didn't even notice 3X back then. Plus it was so crowded that night there's no chance to actually call any of the guys down the stage to chat and negotiate an off.

Min as expected was a quiet win. Solid, low-maintenance, and unexpectedly satisfying. He turned out to be this trip’s slow-burn surprise. Not flashy, not loud, just easy to be around. His brother T is the kind who walks into a room and wants everyone to know he’s there within ten seconds. Min, on the other hand, you barely notice until you realize you’ve been enjoying his company for hours without effort. He’s perfect for when you want company without the obligation to talk. Like a warm blanket that cuddles and kisses you back. He left the next morning, still sweet and a bit shy. I got up and started packing. The room looked like a souvenir stall exploded, but I had things mostly under control. Over the past week, I had built up a carefully curated mess of random shopping----snacks I never touched, toiletries I already owned, and a few items I convinced myself were “necessities.” By midday I had packed most of it, leaving only the usual last-minute chaos for the next day. Then, a message pinged from Ssense. Apologies for the radio silence, they were swamped. I asked if Tongtong was available. Yes, but only late in the afternoon. I confirmed right away and sent Raposa a quick brag message. Mission accomplished.🤣 I still had a few minutes before my appointment, so I decided to swing by Nola Café for one last round of beignets. Unfortunately, they were closed. Next door, though, was a shiny new coffee shop I hadn’t noticed before. Minimalist signage, air-conditioning on blast, and the kind of pastries that practically beg to be photographed. A timber croissant with pistachio knafeh filling caught my eye. One of those viral imports from Dubai that looks like a sugar bomb but promises sophistication. I ordered it with an iced Americano, expecting more style than substance. But it delivered. Buttery, crisp layers, and the knafeh center was sticky, sweet, nutty and just the right kind of rich. Felt like a dessert that understood its assignment. Caffeinated and emotionally stabilized by sugar, I made my way to Ssense. This time there were three of us customers behind the curtain. Never seen that before. It felt like waiting at a clinic but everyone knows what kind of treatment we were in for. A polite silence hung in the air. Tongtong eventually came out with his usual sunny energy. He did the whole spiel about which massage oils were available. Honestly, I didn’t care. I sampled a couple to humour him and picked one just to keep things moving. He was in a great mood. Grinning, cheerful, clearly in a talkative zone. Which was cute but also mildly disarming. We climbed the stairs and I started with the usual pre-massage shower. He ducked out to grab some items and I got myself sorted. When he came back, we got started. He was more chatty this time. Told me about missing Songkran because of work. Said he’d been too busy, always finishing late. I’d heard the same thing from a few other boys and mamasans and it seems Songkran this year was just background noise to some who have to work. The massage itself had noticeably improved. Pressure was more consistent, strokes smoother, transitions more fluid. More importantly, he felt relaxed doing it. Not just going through the motions. He was also more comfortable speaking this time, which made the whole thing feel less like a transaction and more like reconnecting with someone who remembered you. And the cheeky extras? Let’s just say he had a few new tricks. One of them caught me so off guard I had to pause and mentally recalibrate. In a good way. The whole thing was smooth, intense, and well-paced. No rush, no shortcuts. Unlike last time, we actually used the full time I booked. That alone deserves applause. I left Ssense in a noticeably better mood. The kind where your shoulders feel lighter and your standards are temporarily restored. Tongtong had pulled it off. The place is staying on my list. Later that night, the logical part of me wanted to stay in. Order something, watch something, sleep early. But I knew the future me at the airport would be full of regret. So I made the lazy but correct decision to drag myself to Surawong. I had no plan. My strategy was simple: walk until someone grabbed me. Freshboys it was. The vibe was different. Songkran was over and the buzz had worn off. It felt like someone hit the volume knob. Still enough customers to not feel empty, but a noticeable drop. For the first time, you could actually see a few empty seats in the crowd. Low season energy creeping in early. I scanned the stage. There was Number 17, the guy who broke my heart and left me hanging the night before. Still smiling, still gorgeous. Then I saw 3X (let's call him that as I forgot his number). Another cute Vietnamese guy I met on a previous trip, the boy I had tried to off but the mamasan swooped in and blocked it who declared long-time offs are off-limits, as if I had asked for his kidneys. That moment had stuck with me ever since. This time, I wasn’t letting the chance to pass. Then I did something that looking back, I was not very proud of. I walked up to the stage with a pink bill. 17 saw me, smiled like he knew it was coming. I handed it to another boy. Just someone random. Then I turned and walked back to my seat. Might be silly but totally Felt like a power move. Also felt a bit petty. But sometimes petty keeps things interesting. Eventually I gave the signal to 3X and he came over. We chatted, he leaned in, there was some casual cuddling. The vibe was comfortable. Halfway through the show, before the mamasan could ruin it again, I confirmed the off and sent him to get dressed. I told him I’d wait outside. While waiting outside, out of nowhere, 17 approached me. He asked if I was going home. I said yes. He asked if he could come with me. I said I had already offed someone. He nodded and said next time I should choose him. I told him I had tried to off him the night before but he left. He scratched his head, gave me a sheepish look, and asked again if we could go out when I come back. I decided it's really silly to be acting like a disgruntled ex partner so I smiled sincerely and said sure. We ended up talking for a bit longer. He was unexpectedly pleasant. Way more relaxed than the night before. He actually seemed like someone you’d want to spend time with. Somewhere in that convo, I buried the silly melodrama I created in my head. Maybe he had a bad night. Maybe I did. Or maybe nothing brings a bar boy back down to earth faster than a half-empty club and the whiff of low season creeping in. When 3X finally arrived, I hesitated but gave 17 a tip anyway. A gesture. A peace treaty.It felt like a good note to end on. So, I ended my last night with 3X, no drama, no confetti or fireworks. Just the city winding down and me strolling and playing around with someone cute, like I had planned it all along. Because let’s be honest, sometimes the best way to leave Bangkok is quietly, without fanfare, and with a slight smugness knowing you just had the perfect, low-key send-off.

Just to clarify, it wasn’t the barely touched drink that bothered me—it was that he walked off barely five minutes into our conversation. I mean, I’m pretty sure I showered and brushed my teeth before going to the bar. 😆

I was salivating over boy big time 😂

Min really surprised me this trip. Never even considered offing him prior since he’s T’s brother, but he totally stole the spotlight. Might just make him my headliner next time.

Started the morning with work. Nothing glamorous, just the usual battle against the inbox. I’ve learned the hard way that if I don’t chip away at it during the trip, I come home to a digital avalanche. Not worth the stress. So I gave myself a workday, sat down with coffee, and powered through until things felt under control. Meanwhile, Ssense continued its now impressive streak of ignoring my messages. Not a single reply. It’s starting to feel like performance art. Raposa messaged to say he just had a session with Tongtong. Usually, our tastes diverge like two sois, which works out great, but Tongtong is the rare overlap. So of course, I felt a twinge of jealousy. Maybe more than a twinge. I sulked quietly while pretending to be happy for him silently hoping he steps on a Lego (kidding!) With no promising prospects, I figured I’d shake things up and head to VClub7. I hadn’t been in a while (at least three trips ago) so it felt overdue. Messaged them on Line, and unlike Ssense, they replied quickly. Efficient and to the point. I booked a guy named Jon. His profile mentioned he was part Vietnamese, part American, which piqued my interest. From BTS Ari, I walked over. There were still lingering traces of Songkran, kids with water guns and teens with buckets, splashing at whoever looked like fair game. I raised my hand in peace and they let me pass dry. Amazing how well that works when everyone’s a little water-weary by now. VClub7 was lively when I arrived. The lobby had a mix of masseurs, customers, and towel-wrapped men who’d drifted in from Chakran. The vibe was somewhere between a waiting room and a social club. It struck me that VClub7 has all the pieces to become something more like the MB saunas in Rio or São Paulo. They’ve got the space, the talent, and the crowd. If they ever allowed the masseurs to roam and mingle with Chakran patrons, it could really elevate the whole experience. Legalities and logistics aside, the potential is there. Although they may need more protection money to pull this off. After paying, the receptionist called Jon. A few seconds later, he walked out and I immediately knew I’d chosen well. Gorgeous, clean features, silently confident without trying. He had that quiet ease that doesn’t need to impress because it already does. We headed upstairs, but all the rooms were full. It was a packed afternoon. I waited on a bench outside the hallway with two other customers while Jon checked with reception. The guys next to me turned out to be from Singapore. First-timers here, chatty, and friendly enough to pass the time with. After about ten minutes, our room opened up. In the shower, I got a closer look at Jon.Well built, smooth skin, easy movements. Then I noticed something oddly charming—his canine teeth were just a little prominent, giving his smile a playful, slightly mischievous edge. A small detail, but strangely magnetic for me. The massage itself was better than expected. He had clearly done some training. Not high-end spa technique, but competent and thoughtful. Enough to let me settle in and enjoy it. The more intimate part of the session unfolded naturally. No awkwardness, no rushed moments. His rhythm felt instinctive. He responded with just enough sound and touch to make it feel less mechanical and more shared. When he climbed on top and flashed that mischievous grin, my heart just skipped a beat and I just melted. By the end, I felt thoroughly satisfied. Quietly glad I made the trip. VClub7 earned its spot back on the rotation, even if it takes a bit more effort to get to. Later that night, I headed to Freshboys. I had some unfinished business and hoped the stars might align. The bar was moderately active but not overcrowded. There was room to breathe. Customers were inviting guys over freely, and even the mamasan seemed to be subtly nudging people to pair off. I made eye contact with number 17 and gestured for him to join me. He came over, I got him a drink, and we exchanged the usual light talk. Things seemed fine until, around a couple of minutes in, he asked if I planned to off him. I tried to keep the conversation going, to get a better feel for him, but he interrupted to say he’d head back to the stage if I wasn’t planning to. It was blunt, not aggressive, but abrupt enough to leave me blinking. I said okay, and he left with his drink barely touched. It was strange. Maybe he was having a rough night. Maybe he was just bluffing but it got lost in translation. Either way, it left the air feeling flat. I figured it just wasn’t going to be my night and decided to call it early. Two nights in a row without an off. Not ideal, but not tragic either. (Note: this won’t be my last interaction with him, so maybe hold your judgment for now.) I headed out, walked toward the Starbucks to grab a taxi, and just as I was about to cross the street, I felt a light hand on my shoulder. I froze, turned around and there was Min. Smiling like we’d just randomly bumped into each other at a coffee shop. He said he’d stepped out to grab food and was heading back to Goodboys. Asked why I wasn’t coming in, and I told him I was tired. That’s when I noticed his hand gently on my arm, caressing and giving it a small squeeze, and asked half teasing, half sincere if I wanted him to come home with me instead. Didn’t take much thinking. I gave him 500 baht to settle his off fee, and we headed back to my hotel. Not all heroes wear capes. Some just show up in white shorts and a red number tag.

Absolutely he’s undeniably a stunning guy. That said… spoiler alert: my experience with him at the bar, sadly, didn’t turn out so great.

When T left that night, I was faced with a dilemma : jump back into the aquatic circus or stay dry and preserve some sense of peace. The idea of weaving through water-wielding teenagers just to end up in a packed bar soggy and annoyed didn’t quite spark joy. So, I opted for the grown-up route ---booked a proper massage at a legit spot near the hotel. The kind where the therapist actually knows anatomy, not just how to flip a towel. Finished off the night with a slow coffee at a quiet café nearby. No loud music, no buckets, just me, a decent brew, and the sight of drenched people stumbling back to their hotels like defeated gladiators. Next morning, I woke up earlier than expected. Fresh, clear-headed, and with muscles that no longer felt like tangled cables. That massage had done good work. Songkran chaos was still alive outside, but I had errands. Back to Platinum Mall to finish my small shopping list. Realized I still had a Japanese Yen bills from Tokyo, so I headed to the SuperRich counter at the entrance. Handed my small stash over, but the staff squinted at it and pointed to the slightly softened edge and apparently, a couple of the bills had taken on a bit of moisture. Whether it was condensation or collateral damage from the city’s annual water war, they didn’t want it. No argument. I crossed over to another booth across which looked like it was bank-affiliated (SCB?), and they took it without hesitation. Either they had a better dryer or just less fussed about currency hydration levels. With some baht added to my wallet, I made my way through the mall, picked up a few things, and had lunch at the food court. Nothing fancy, just solid, uncomplicated Thai food and a cold drink. Simple wins. Back at the hotel, I mulled over heading to Silom for another massage, but the odds of being drenched on the way weren’t in my favor. Sent a Line message to Ssense --- still no reply. At this point, I was starting to take the ghosting personally. Decided to shift direction and head up to Saphan Khwai for 15M instead. The shop’s a short walk from the BTS, and the route is relatively splash-free if you know how to navigate around the kids with buckets. JJ seems to be building a bit of hype lately, probably from his OnlyFans fanbase making him rarely available . Picked Boston. Good call. The massage started clinical, in a good way. firm pressure, no wasted movements. As it eased into more sensual territory, he kept things slow and natural. Nothing mechanical, no awkward transitions. Just calm, steady attention and quiet confidence. Later that night, met up with Raposa again. Getting to Silom Complex was a challenge in itself. Traffic was at a standstill, so I got out at Dusit Hotel and decided to hoof it. Took about 45 minutes weaving through a crowd that felt like half of Bangkok decided to gather on the same road. Tried sneaking in through the skywalk, hoping to dodge the lower-level madness. Almost worked until we hit a bottleneck near the entrance. Security was turning away anyone carrying water guns, and the resulting U-turns just made the whole thing worse. Eventually got inside and settled in for dinner. Dinner was decent. Raposa’s favorite pork belly dish was missing in action again. this is starting to feel personal (lol) but at least we had a quiet table and some breathing room. We lingered longer than usual, hoping the crowd outside would thin out. It didn’t. We ruled out Banana and Jupiter almost immediately. Too packed, too wet, too much. So we threaded our way through to Patpong. Still plenty of playful splashers, and by the time we reached Dragon and Koi, we were both semi-drenched. One of the hosts took pity and started dabbing me dry with paper towels. Slightly embarrassing, but I let him have his moment. Later, we squeezed into Freshboys. The place was packed. We landed second-row seats, just behind the front stools, meaning a nonstop parade of people pacing right in front of us. Not exactly premium viewing. Then came the twin dramas. First, a customer with a backpack brushed past and accidentally knocked over two beers on the table next to us. Big splash, loud yelps. The bar staff didn’t replace the drinks, which felt a bit stingy considering the price of entry. A few minutes later, two guys tripped in front of us, unclear who caused what, but within seconds they were grabbing each other’s shirts and looking ready to throw down. Staff jumped in, separated them, and walked them out before anything major happened. The show restarted and a new batch of boys came on stage. One in particular caught my eye --- Vietnamese, lean build, smooth lines, just the right amount of intensity (number 17). He was definitely aware I was watching, throwing back the occasional look that wasn’t exactly subtle. I walked up and gave him a tip. nothing over-the-top, just enough to signal interest. The room was too crowded to make anything else happen, but maybe next time. Raposa was also in tipping mode. We realized that our tastes in guys, didn’t overlap. Good thing As it keeps outings like this less competitive and drama free (lol).We wrapped things up, shook hands, and I wished him well for his next leg of travel. No off for me that night, but I wasn’t bothered. As for me, Another night in Bangkok ---chaotic, a little soaked, and full of unexpected moments. But then again, that’s what keeps it interesting. Wouldn’t change a thing.

Yes, surprisingly I enjoyed Songkran. My last one prior to this was before my whoring days in Thailand. I’d been avoiding it for years, following general sentiments in this forum. But sometimes it pays to break your own rules.

Lol! I mean this figuratively. Maybe because his sister and friend are with us, so he acts a bit differently compared if it's just the two of us.

Woke up still wrapped in the warmth of last night. Min was sound asleep beside me, one arm across the pillow, hair a little messy, looking like someone who had zero interest in the Songkran chaos outside. I didn’t move for a while. Just lay there, feeling that rare kind of peace and quiet . When we finally stirred and made our way downstairs for breakfast, he was back to his usual self—quiet, polite, and flashing those soft smiles that somehow made the air around us feel calmer. There was something deeply relaxing about his presence. No demands. Just chill. After breakfast, he headed off, and I started getting ready to meet his older brother, T, over at the Starbucks in Surawong. Just as I was stepping out of the room, I got a message from him saying he was up and getting ready too. Down in the hotel parking, the staff were clearly in Songkran mode. Buckets tucked behind the counter, people already a little wet, music playing faintly from someone’s speaker. The housekeeping auntie—who I’ve grown fond of—walked over holding a small container of something grey and smeared it across my cheeks with expert confidence. It smelled earthy, fresh, a little sweet. Later Raposa would tell me it was sandalwood paste, part tradition, part cooling agent, part “let’s make tourists look like locals.” I stayed for a bit, chatting, laughing, letting their playful energy rub off on me. Over at Starbucks, I grabbed my second coffee and settled in. T arrived looking like he hadn’t yet been claimed by the water war. I got him a drink, and he gave my outfit a once-over—shorts, waterproof pouch, sandals. He seemed satisfied, though he noted I wasn’t packing coins for water refills. He said don't worry he'll be taking care of it. He just quietly handled things and I like that vibe from him. That’s kind of his thing. We headed through Patpong, which in broad daylight felt surreal. The whole place looked like it was taking a nap—shuttered bars, neon signs turned off, a few shopkeepers hosing down their sidewalks. It felt more like a movie set after wrap than the fever-dream it usually becomes at night. At Silom, we stopped to get proper soakers. The stall had everything from tiny pistols to full-blown backpack cannons. I picked a decent mid-range one, something that said "I came to play" but not "I have unresolved rage issues." Before I could even reach for my wallet, T had already paid for both of us. He shrugged it off saying I can pay him later, no fuss. And then came the surprise: we wouldn’t just be a duo. Min was joining us again, along with their younger sister and her Vietnamese friend, who’d flown in specifically for Songkran. The dynamic shifted quickly. I suddenly felt like I was part of a family outing I hadn’t been officially invited to. Two brothers, a sister, a guest. And me—the wildcard. It hit me for a moment. How do I fit here? Do I introduce myself as the guy who just woke up next to your brother? The one who’s now tagging along with the other one? It was absurd and vaguely hilarious being the mystery guest among siblings. And not just any guest—the guy who's slept with at least two of them. Internally, I panicked. What’s the etiquette here? "Hi, I’m the guy from your brothers’ shared folder?" But the feeling didn’t last long. The girls were chatty and disarming. They pulled me in effortlessly. Min, maybe because he was with family, was more playful than I’d seen him—joking around, tossing water like he had a score to settle. T kept checking on me in his quiet way. Making sure I wasn’t lagging, that I had enough water, that I was having fun. He didn’t hover, but he was always near. Silom was already packed. Buckets being flung from everywhere, hoses spraying down strangers, foam cannons blasting into the air. It was overcast, with a bit of drizzle, which made everything feel cool and almost cinematic. No one was spared. Old women. Kids. Tourists. Everyone got drenched and no one cared. Music pounded from storefronts, the kind of repetitive EDM that makes you forget what time it is. We walked the full length of the road and back. My shirt clung to my skin. Water pooled in my sandals. I was freezing and grinning like a fool. The crowd was just right—not yet overwhelming, but still electric. Eventually, back near Saladaeng, the group decided they’d had enough. The girls looked happy, Min seemed ready to hibernate, and the energy had mellowed. One by one, they started to head off. T said he was heading home too—to his own place, which I learned wasn’t the same one Min stays in. We stood there a bit, just the two of us now. He didn’t seem in a hurry, but he wasn’t lingering either. I felt a pull—not dramatic, just a quiet nudge that said I wasn’t quite ready to be alone yet. Maybe it was how he'd looked after me all day. Maybe I just wanted to end the day on my own terms. So I asked if he wanted to come back to my place instead. It wasn’t rehearsed. I didn’t dress it up. I just asked. And I meant it in that very specific way where you're not asking for more, but you're hoping the moment lasts a little longer. He looked at me, calm as ever, and nodded. That was enough. Back at the hotel, we peeled off our soaked clothes and we showered off the grime, the chalky paste, and whatever questionable liquid had landed on us earlier. The hot water felt like a full-body reset. No rush, no expectations. When we finally collapsed into bed, it wasn’t about anything but rest. No deep talk. No big moment. Just two people wiped out from the same strange, happy kind of day.

I totally get the appeal of keeping rates verbal—it gives both sides flexibility and avoids awkwardness upfront. But I’d say the sticker shock some guys get when they see the rates written down say at Toyboys isn’t necessarily a bad thing—it’s just the market doing its thing. Whether the rate’s quoted by the boy or printed on a menu, if it feels high compared to what people expect in Pattaya, there’s going to be a reaction. The written format just makes that reaction more immediate. So really, that bit of surprise is useful—it reflects real-time feedback on where the market thinks the price should be. Of course, I’m probably showing naivety in assuming the bars are always on the pulse with market sentiment and listen to feedback... 😉

If I could have my way, it’d be nice if bars had a system like some of the massage shops do—set minimum rates/tips for short time and long time offs. It would save a lot of back-and-forth and help manage expectations on both sides. At least then you’d know the baseline before even starting the conversation, and you can just add to the minimum accordingly based on your satisfaction. It also protects the guys against those horrific situations I’ve heard about where the customer refuses to tip or just give them 100 Baht after the deed, claiming they were told the off fee was the full payment.

Yes, there's a third brother and I met him with his other mates last year as T and I were going out of that 7-11 near Raya. T did mention that he's also for hire but I didn't really entertained the thought.

So sorry fam! I got the older brother written as Boy-Tony in my Line account. And both of them respond back when I call them as Tony and Min ---- maybe they are just being polite and don't want to correct me 😁😁😁