CallMeLee

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 😁😁😁

T sometimes introduce himself as Boy.

Yeah, overall T is good company. From my experience, he initially came off as someone who’d try to squeeze as much money as possible from you—but I guess that’s pretty common with bar guys. One incident that stands out: he once claimed I had agreed to pay him 5,000 for an ST, which wasn’t true. That led to him getting sent back to rotation and me offing someone else. Since then, he’s become more of an “up to you” type rather than quoting ridiculous amounts. One good thing about his “hustling” nature is that when we go out, he always looks after me and makes sure to negotiate prices—he’s worried I’ll get charged tourist rates if I speak English. He’s Vietnamese but speaks Thai fluently, like his brother. That said, between the two, I find the younger one more endearing and less transactional.

I did but separately. But given how openly they talk about and suggested offing them as a pair, I would say it has happened before. Yes! From Da Nang according to them. True but I think even with the decline of that "informal charm", given Tawan/The One's small intimate space, the chance of making contact and having small talk with several guys has always been a given every visit. Different case with Atlas where the guys have their own spot to congregate and the space to guys ratio is so big it's so easy to be isolated in a corner and be/feel invisible.

Agree with T being a hustler and he did attempted some of his tricks prior and even more recently. My approach has always been consistent either send him back to the rotation and not invite him to sit with me even when he's giving me googly eyes from the stage or even brazenly approach me to buy him a drink. Overall, he's good company to hang out with outside the bar. Yes, Min is really cute. He's still on the slender side but I can see he's attempt to bulk up a bit.

I woke up with Nam still fast asleep beside me. I slipped out of bed like a thief in the night, careful not to wake him, and made myself a coffee. I sat on the chair next to the bed, sipping slowly, just watching him. There’s something quietly captivating about seeing someone you were tangled up with the night before sleeping so peacefully—like a living postcard from the night that was. A few minutes later, Nam stirred, opened his eyes, smiled lazily, and beckoned me to come back in. I didn’t need a second invitation. I climbed back into bed, and we melted into each other for a while, just holding, letting the warmth linger. When he finally sat up, I asked what he wanted for breakfast. He declined at first—just coffee, he said. But then his eyes caught the stash of bread on the counter. He pointed and asked if he could have some. Of course. We munched quietly, talked a bit more, and somewhere between the last slice and the last sip, things took a familiar turn again. This time, more than cuddling—slow, lazy touches evolving into something deeper. We exchanged Line before he left. He said I should invite him if I want to “play water” during Songkran. The way he said it, with that little grin, made it sound like the invite might involve more than just water. That afternoon, I wandered over to Arena for a little extracurricular activity. I arrived too early—the lineup looked disappointing in terms of quality and quantity . I was told to come back in an hour, which I did. On round two, the energy picked up. I picked a guy named Tom and we headed to the room. As soon as we got in, he told me to shower first because he needed to get something. He must have sensed my disappointment as he quickly backpedaled with a smile and offered to join me in the shower instead. Much better. Nothing new to report on the Arena front. It’s as solid and predictable as ever—my dependable go-to when I want something quick and uncomplicated. The prices are reasonable, the quality decent, and the location perfect if you’re staying around Silom. Saphan Khwai still wins on variety, but I’ll take Arena’s reliability any day. Afterwards, I made a quick trip to Central Rama 3 to pick up some groceries and supplies, then headed back to the hotel. The rest of the afternoon slipped by without much fuss—just lounging, resting, letting the day exhale. As night rolled in, I had zero plans. I found myself drifting toward Dreamboys, where a tout pulled me in with the usual promise. Same old vibe inside—pulsing music, glowing lights, and some familiar faces back in rotation. Looks like their “Thai-only” phase is over. A few boys I knew from Goodboy who now moved back to Dreamboys came over to say hi, but the mood just wasn’t landing for me. I left in under thirty minutes. I walked back toward Goodboys. Tee and Emma were outside, so I stopped to chat. Tee looked worn out—still clearly recovering. I felt a pang of concern. Inside, the energy was low-key, and Tee led me to my usual spot with my usual Diet Coke. Emma came over and, in classic Emma fashion, immediately asked how things went with Nam. I glanced across the room and spotted Nam already seated with a customer—next to number 42, who I had been eyeing for the night. So much for that plan. Nam walked over to give me a hug and say hi. He said he wasn’t sure if his customer would off him. I nodded, but my eyes had already moved elsewhere. That’s when I saw Min. T’s brother. Cute, sweet, and always a little too shy for me. I’ve seen him many times before, invited him to sit when his brother was around, but never offed him. I used to think pairing two introverts was a bad idea—we’d just end up sitting in silence, awkwardly sipping our drinks. But tonight, Min looked different. More relaxed. Chatty. Even flirtatious. Laughing with other boys, making jokes, clearly more comfortable in his own skin. Something had shifted, and suddenly I couldn’t take my eyes off him. We caught each other’s gaze, and he smiled. I motioned for him to come over. He greeted me with a wai and a hug. “Welcome back,” he said. I asked if he remembered me. He laughed. “You’re brother’s friend.” Not wrong. A moment later, T joined us too—he had just come back from an early off. He plopped down next to us and immediately started joking about making more money tonight. Min, meanwhile, was doing the most. Playfully moving my hands over places usually reserved for later. Flirting without holding back. At one point, he loudly claimed he’s bigger than his brother. T laughed and tossed it back: “He’s offed me before—he can be the judge.” I wanted to crawl under the table. What was this? A family feud with cock measuring as the main event? I don't want to be part of this sibling rivalry! Min left to change into his street clothes while T shifted gears, pretending to be hurt I didn’t tell him I was in town. We made plans to meet the next day for some Songkran fun in Silom. Then Mai—my long-time crush—came down from the Big Cock Show to collect tips. Naturally, I was ready with my wallet. Outside, Min and I waited for our Grab. My phone rang—it was the driver, and I panicked. Min calmly took the phone, answered in Thai, and handled everything like a pro. Turns out he used to sell sugarcane juice on the street and picked up the language that way. Somehow, that made him even hotter. Back at the hotel, we chatted a bit more and eventually undressed without saying much, both of us smiling like we already knew where the night was heading. We took a shower together started with lingering touches turning into kisses. In bed, he was nothing like the shy boy I remembered. He was playful, confident, a little cheeky even teasing me with his mouth, whispering things I didn’t expect from someone who used to barely make eye contact. He took his time, and so did I. It was tender, but not timid. He kissed like he meant it, moved with purpose, responded to every touch with a soft sigh or a smile. When he straddled me, looking down with that mix of sweetness and mischief, I knew I had completely misread him before. Afterwards, we lay there, still skin against skin, the room quiet except for our breathing. He rested his head on my chest, and I just stared at the ceiling, grinning like a fool. I had no idea this was what I’d end up with tonight—but damn, I’m glad I did.

Decided to ease into the day and take it slow—no adventures below the belt, at least while the sun’s up. Figured I owed it to my upper and lower back, which has been quietly screaming since that long-haul economy flight. I’d been bouncing around Bangkok without a proper massage, which in hindsight felt like a form of self-neglect. Found a massage shop not far from the hotel. Nothing shady, just a legit setup with calming music and an actual menu where “oil massage” meant oil massage, not a coded invitation. Signed up for a two-hour oil session with a body scrub thrown in for good measure. The masseuse, bless her, had this perfect balance of grace and power. Those long, slow strokes that coax your muscles into submission, plus the occasional elbow that found every buried knot I didn’t know I had. I came dangerously close to nodding off more than once. When it was over, I floated out of there feeling like I’d been steamed, basted, and reset. My skin was glowing, my jetlag had vanished, and for once my shoulders weren’t attempting to fuse with my ears. Back at the hotel, I just... lounged. Let that post-massage blisd linger. Ignored the growing pile of Line messages from massage shops with tempting offers. But I told myself to chill. I didn’t come all the way to Bangkok just to rush from one boy to another like a horny hummingbird (maybe I do but not on a daily basis? Lol). Sometimes you’ve got to just soak in the stillness. Once evening rolled around, I rallied and headed out to meet @Raposa at Have a Zeed in Silom Complex. First time linking up with a fellow forum member, so I was excited and curious. I wasn’t sure what to expect, but Raposa turned out to be a great guy! easy-going, quick with a joke, and a solid conversationalist. We hit it off immediately, chatting about everything from the quirks of the Bangkok scene to our favorite travel spots. He wasn’t just a fellow forum member------he was someone you’d actually want to hang out with. A perfect balance of laid-back and insightful, which made for an enjoyable dinner and even better company as we swapped stories about past trips, mishaps, and of course, some bar gossip. After dinner, we moved to the bar beneath Hotmale since it's too early to head inside, but the street-side seating is perfect for people-watching. The boys started rolling in, tight tees clinging in all the right places, sneakers hitting the cracked pavement of Patpong with that slow, deliberate swagger. No pretense, just streetwise charm and easy sex appeal, the kind that fits right in with the buzz of motorbikes, neon glare, and the persistent shriek from hustlers trying to reel in a passing tourist. It wasn’t polished. it was raw, alive, and sexy in that unmistakably Bangkok way. Eventually, we wandered over to Dragon and Koi. Chatted with Pi and one of his mates while the shows cycled through their dance routines. Somewhere in between drinks, I got a Line message from James (last night’s boy) saying he’d seen me with a friend and wondered if I wanted company again tonight. I laughed. Sweet guy, but I wasn’t looking to run it back just yet. Variety is kind of the point, isn’t it? We made our way to Good Boy after that. And there he was—---Mai—---sitting right by the door eating dinner like a scene straight out of my dreams. He hadn’t been around during my last visit, so seeing him now was a very unexpected treat. He looked up as we approached, gave a casual smile, and I swear I felt my face flush. It was ridiculous, like I was in some adolescent romcom. There’s just something about him. his energy, that effortless charm that hits me square in the chest. Total schoolboy crush territory, and completely off-limits. The place was packed, and we ended up with one of those horribly positioned tables where you need to rotate your neck like a barn owl to see the stage. I only bothered with the contortions when Mai came out during the Big Cock show. Couldn’t not watch. When he came down after to collect tips, I made sure our table got his attention. Of course I tipped. How could I not? Once my Mai moment was ticked off for the night, it was time to turn my attention elsewhere. Raposa had already locked in his choice and was deep in conversation. Looked like they were either negotiating an off or the merits of neo liberal fiscal policy. I spotted a guy with a warm smile and a relaxed vibe, waved him over mostly to avoid looking like Raposa’s lonely wingman. He introduced himself as Nam, from Vietnam. This trip’s theme,as I will later realise was unintentionally, going to be “Boys from Vietnam and Myanmar,” and I’m not mad about it. Nam didn’t waste any time. He slid in close, his hand casually resting on mine, leaning in to whisper something soft in my ear. A kiss on my neck, a slow, teasing move that made it clear what he was after placing my hands strategically to make his case compelling. There was no talk of long time, just a mutual understanding that tonight was about keeping it simple and easy. After the whirlwind of last night, a quick and uncomplicated encounter seemed more than appealing. Raposa wrapped up his deal around the same time. We paid our off fees, shook hands like soldiers in the trenches, then went our separate ways. Each with a boy on our arm and a story to tell for next time.

Same experience here. Also, what I observed was that the notices posted in these properties made it sound like it will be us the guests who will be prosecuted/penalised if things go pear shaped.

I'm a bit challenged when it comes to directions as well. Both Freshboys and Hotmale have their guys wearing white shorts. If you happen to see a shower setup on stage, then you probably went to Freshboys. You also mentioned a packed crowd so my spider sense is again pointing towards Freshboys!

Thanks. Hardly a professional writer. But I recently learned to feed my ramblings and writings to a proofreading app before uploading. I re-read my previous trip reports and I was horrified with the spelling and grammatical errors. I can imagine you guys popping a couple of Tylenol after reading through my reports. 🤣 😂

Thanks - and at the end of the day, we all want Atlas to succeed - and I'm looking forward to visit again for sure.

Fully agree with you on this. I find meal service to be odd as well. I remember them serving the dinner roll separately and way after everyone finished their meal (happened on two separate flights). And I was surprised and so confused finding a large pouch of vegetable like the ones below with my airline meal.

Stepping into Atlas felt like walking into a new restaurant that used to be your favorite hole-in-the-wall—you’re hopeful, cautiously excited, and also silently bracing for disappointment. This was my first time visiting, and I had questions. So many questions. What did they do to the space? Was that famously awful pillar finally gone? Would this new incarnation finally live up to the slow-burning hype I’d been feeding for the past few months? At first glance, the place felt vaguely familiar. Despite the change in name and a few cosmetic tweaks—mostly in the form of shirtless, oil-slicked musclemen on the walls—it was still recognizably the old Sol / Dreamboys Bar. The core layout hadn’t shifted much, and I couldn’t decide if that was laziness or just holding onto a blueprint that never quite worked. But fine. I wasn’t there to review their feng shui. I was chasing that elusive Tawan-style magic, hoping to feel that spark that made you grin like an idiot after a couple of overpriced drinks. But then came the first red flag. Or maybe beige flag, since it was more sad than alarming. The place was almost empty. Including myself, there were exactly three customers. One table was occupied by a group of three elderly men, clearly regulars judging by how comfortable they looked. One of them, the oldest, needed help from his companions every time he got up or sat down, and once, be assisted to get him to the toilet. But honestly, I found it touching. If I’m still around and still going out for this kind of whorish fun when I’m his age, I hope I have a pair of devoted partners-in-crime like these two. He wasn’t just getting old,he was doing it in style. The show took its sweet time, only kicking off after eleven like it was waiting for a more enthusiastic crowd that never came. And when it did start, it sort of... flopped in. The guys on stage looked like they were counting down the minutes until they could go home. Zero cheekiness, zero spark. Even the drag performers, usually the reliable saviors of any limp show, were barely going through the motions. At one point, a performer got bent over while another squirted beer from behind him in what I assume was an attempt at humor or eroticism, though it missed both marks and landed somewhere between confusing and mildly unhygienic. But the real gut punch? The lack of connection. Most of the guys there were from Tawan, or at least previously affiliated, but the vibe was nowhere near what Tawan was known for. That casual charm, the way the boys would stroll up, flash a grin, chat you up with zero pressure—it just wasn’t there. Instead, they clustered together in their own little bubble, chattering and giggling while customers sat like forgotten ornaments. And because the space was bigger, that feeling of isolation echoed harder. It was like watching a party from behind soundproof glass. You could see the movement, but none of it reached you. Now to be fair, the new location has promise. It sits in an alley that’s already home to similar venues, meaning curious foot traffic and wandering souls are almost guaranteed. But potential only goes so far when the product still feels like it’s in beta testing. Right now, it reminds me too much of The One bar—empty, awkward, and hoping you’ll stay long enough to convince yourself you’re having a good time. Eventually, out of sheer boredom and the creeping dread that I might actually fall asleep at the bar, I made eye contact with one of the performers. I gave him the look. You know the one. The universal gesture of “save me from this dead air.” He picked up on it immediately and walked over, all smiles. His name was James, and before I could say much of anything, he handed me a business card like we were about to discuss stock options or schedule a team-building workshop. I found it unintentionally charming. James, it turned out, also worked at Prince Spa. And without missing a beat, he launched into his pitch. He told me he could take care of me that night, said it three different ways, and made it clear that this was a limited-time offer. I eventually gave in. Not because I was sold on the sales pitch, but because he was the only one in the whole building who seemed remotely interested in interacting with me. Back at the hotel, we ordered food through Grab. And this is when I discovered that James wasn’t just talkative—he was relentlessly chatty. Every few minutes, he would pause to thank me for calling him over, then launch into a variation of how he just knew I was a kind person with a good heart. I wasn’t sure if this was part of his client engagement strategy or a deeply awkward personality quirk, but whatever it was, it had me smiling politely while internally trying to distract myself. The silver lining, though, was the massage. He really put in the work, clearly trying to make the whole experience as enjoyable as possible. He was attentive, warm, and cheeky in all the right ways. The extras? Also lovely. The only downside was that even after the deed was done, he couldn’t stop talking. I think I fell asleep somewhere between his third story about his coworker and a detailed breakdown of his favorite noodle dish. In the morning, we had a quiet breakfast together. Or at least, I tried to keep it quiet—James was still on his one-man monologue tour. Before heading out, he mentioned Songkran, saying he wanted to play water with me and insisted I call him. I believe he meant well. He’s genuinely nice, and I don’t think there was any game in his words. But there’s only so much constant talking I can take before my brain starts buffering. I didn’t promise anything. Just gave him a vague smile and said we’ll see. We hugged it out, and I watched him disappear down the hallway. Then I went back to my bed, stretched out, and soaked in the beautiful silence of a Bangkok morning. After the underwhelming night and James’ constant verbal fireworks, the stillness felt sacred. Sometimes, the best thing a city can give you is the space to breathe again.

I like runny egg yolks but I agree the crispy edges are good too!

Date night! Lol

The day started the best way any Bangkok day can start: with Nine. Yes, that Nine. Those of you who've followed my trip reports for a while will know exactly who I mean—my long-standing, tried-and-true favourite. Even back in the days when I wasn’t fully sold on Banana Bar, I still showed up for him. Because Nine? He’s worth it. And of course, he delivered. As always. Same great vibe, same easy charm, same experience that leaves you wondering how he can be effortlessly Delightful.” At this point, we’ve built up a familiarity that just makes everything click. No awkward warm-ups or polite small talk—it’s like catching up with an old friend, if that friend also happens to be very good at massages and even better at everything that comes after. After our usual post-fun breakfast, Nine gave his customary gentle nudge—reminding me I can always text him if I want to meet outside the bar. Just include the off fee if it’s during work hours, and he’s there. I made a mental note. Having a reliable option like Nine on standby? A luxury worth treasuring—especially for those times when you need to recover from a less-than-great massage session or bar off. Feeling recharged and smugly content, I decided to get a jump on my shopping list before the impending Songkran madness turned my plan into a splash zone. Off to Platinum Mall I went, armed with a list, a vague sense of direction, and a wildly optimistic belief that my feet would hold out. Several hours and several bags later, my legs were sending out distress signals. I surrendered, paused for a quick food court lunch, and added in a foot massage for good measure. It helped. Sort of. But my inner hedonist wasn’t quite satisfied. Enter: Prince Spa. But first, coffee. Suan Phlu’s midday heat had me on the verge of dozing off on the sidewalk. That’s when I stumbled across a little gem—Nola Café. Cute, cool, and most importantly: they serve fresh beignets. Now, I don’t know about you, but finding hot, fluffy beignets in Bangkok is like finding a unicorn at the mall. For 245 baht, I was treated to six pillowy beignets, each dusted with just the right amount of powdered sugar, paired with a strong Americano that was basically rocket fuel for the soul. It was the kind of sweet, delicious moment that made me forget about the heat and get a little too comfortable in my food coma. Buzzed and sugar-fueled, I made my way to Prince Spa. You know the ritual—take a seat, sip your drink, stop yourself from choking from your drink and attempt the impossible: picking just one guy from a sea of gorgeous. It’s like being on the judging panel of Thailand’s Next Top Something. Then I spotted him—stocky, toned, with a broad build that reminded me of the Saboten Escorts in Tokyo. I pointed him out, and a moment later, he was striding toward me. “Hi, I’m Maxie,” he said, flashing a smile that could charge your phone. Maxie was, in a word, EXTRA. He’s just full of positivity and cheer, and his vibe? Think overly affectionate golden retriever meets flirty cartoon sidekick. He practically bounced into the shower with me, where he proceeded to turn a simple rinse into an aquatic comedy sketch—splashing, laughing, cheeky little nudges. Then came the massage. And look, “massage” might be generous. It was less “targeted muscle relief” and more “theatre of affection.” Every few minutes, Maxie would pause to nibble, cuddle, tickle, or whisper, “Are you happy?” with the earnestness of someone handing you a newborn puppy. His hands wandered as often as his thoughts, and the whole thing felt like I’d accidentally booked a spa day with an excitable boyfriend. To his credit, he did dial it up during the extras—suddenly shifting gears into something more sensual. But just as quickly, he bounced back to full Maxie-mode: affectionate, giggly, and absolutely incapable of sitting still. It was chaotic. It was oddly wholesome. And honestly? I kind of low key loved it. He’s not someone I’d book when I’m in the mood for quiet, slow-burning intensity. But for a day when you want a bit of light-hearted fun and nonstop serotonin? Maxie’s your guy. He made me laugh, feel doted on, and left me in that weirdly specific post-session state of both relaxed and slightly confused. Back at the hotel, I crashed for a nap—still smiling, slightly ticklish, and with powdered sugar memories lingering in my mind. Next stop: Atlas Bar.

Decided to sleep in today to re energise and prepare for the days ahead. Wanting to take it a bit slow but by mid day my feet are itching and the temptation of going out proved to be too compelling.Bangkok isn’t the kind of place that lets you chill for too long anyway—the city calls and you answer. Made my way to Siam Paragon and immediately noticed the festive buzz and Songkran is definitely in the air. The decorations, the crowd, even the music had that extra spark. I wandered around a bit, letting the escalators and connecting walkways carry me from one mall to another. There's something comforting about these mega-malls: cool air, clean spaces, and a constant stream of people doing their own thing. I took my time, soaking in the vibes, enjoying the rhythm of people-watching like it was a low-key sport. Eventually made my way to the food court, where I refueled with something satisfying. After that, I plopped myself down at a Starbucks, cold drink in hand, continuing my quiet observation of the world moving around me. When I had my fill, I decided to try out Nine Spa in Sukhumvit. Messaged via Line and I was provided with their menu of services. One positive I picked up from their pricing is the difference between 1 hour and 1.5 hours massage is only 100 baht. And the minimum tip for 1 and 1.5 hours is the same which is 1000 baht. Unlike other shops that you will end up paying 500 baht or more (as both massage and minimum tip increases), Nine Spa's menu shows more value just for an additional 100 baht Hopped in a taxi, but made the rookie mistake of trusting the app’s pin instead of following Nine Spa’s actual directions. Got dropped off a street away and ended up doing a mini-trek to the place. It's tucked not too far from the Quarter Phrom Phong, just a short walk once you figure out the right alley. When I arrived, I was introduced to my chosen Masseur (Chay) and off we went. Now one negative thing about Nine Spa is that there is no private shower. Lucky my room is basically right next to the shower and there's only two rooms sharing a shower in my floor. Shower room looKs decent and the large bottle of mouthwash a good plus (not all spa have this). When Chay returned to the room he asked me if I want a "clean" massage. I was confused and don't know what to say. Should I be upfront and say I'm not after anything clean at all ? Good thing when I asked him to repeat, he actually meant "cream" massage and showed me a bowl with massage cream on it. Crisis averted! To be honest, I came in with low expectations of the massage component given the price. I was expecting one of those mechanical, let's-get-this-over-with routines. But Chay surprised me. It wasn’t Ssense-level finesse, but the massage had actual technique and effort. Long, deliberate strokes that made me feel like I was in good hands, literally. Then came the fun part. The extras were... thorough. He took his time. Checked in. Looked pleased with himself. After I finished, he cleaned me up, gave me a look, and asked if I could return the favour. Who am I to deny good manners? Let’s just say Chay didn’t hold back. Gave me a surprise ending right across my chest. Cream massage indeed. I nearly clapped. Gave Chay more than the minimum tip. I really wouldn't mind returning to Nine Spa. Sukhumvit is not really my area but there are some nice malls to explore in there that makes the trip worth it. Plus their pricing is competitive with Saphan Kwai shops. Night time came and Banana Club was my destination. As always, performance is on point but one thing I noticed, is that there's a bit more exposure time for their guys now. Their roster have grown and I can see some former hotmale and freshboys guys in their lineup. I locked eyes with my usual guy Nine and he smiled. I motioned him to join me in my seat which he gladly did. "You say you come Sunday I was waiting for you" nine said sulking. It only took a few minutes and he's back to the usual clingy sweet guy especially when I asked him if he wants to go with me. While waiting for a taxi, Nine was full-on affectionate—holding my hand, throwing his arm around me, sneaking in quick kisses. Normally, I’d cringe at that much PDA, but tonight I just rolled with it. No point overthinking when you’re vibing with someone who’s just happy you showed up.

The historical and geopolitical analysis and conversation from this thread is so impressive! Unfortunately, not much I can contribute around the topic. Writing this report while having a foot spa / pedi at a massage shop in Surawong. Gave me some time to do a bit of writing in between whoring! ---------- After James left, I realized how completely drained I was. The moment the door closed behind him, I collapsed onto the bed and sank into a deep, dreamless sleep. It was honestly the reset I didn’t know I needed. As fun as our time was, I really need to start being mindful of my energy. I'm not as young as I used to be—and my body’s definitely not shy about reminding me. Woke up late and slow. Breakfast was just a bunch of random stuff from 7-11—some snacks and whatever looked vaguely breakfast-y—chased down with black coffee. Nothing fancy, but it did the job. Checked work emails just to make sure there were no small fires to put out. Thankfully, it was a quiet inbox. Spent the morning lounging and taking my time. No rush, no noise. Just how I like it sometimes. Sometime in the afternoon, I messaged Ssense and booked Mai for a two-hour session via their Line account. They did what they always do—tried to push the expensive package. I passed. Paying an extra 300 baht just to get rubbed down with fancy oil isn’t worth it to me. Feels like paying more for the same outcome. Got to the place and everything felt familiar. I started to relax and mentally settled into what I expected to be the usual decent experience. The massage itself was fine—same level as before—but it ended way too early. Mai stepped out after about 90 minutes, saying he’d go shower. I figured, sure, he wants to rinse off after the B2B part. But when he came back, he told me to shower, and I noticed he was already tidying up the room, setting it for the next customer. There were still at least 15 minutes left. Just like that, it was done. Tipped the bare minimum and messaged Mr. S about it. He apologized, but I don’t really expect anything to come of it. First time this has happened, and fingers crossed it’s also the last. Headed out after that to Suan Phlu market. Picked up some fruit and grabbed a couple of waterproof bags for Songkran. Afterward, made my way to Icon Siam to kill some time. The Souk Siam food market was lively as ever—this time with a Songkran theme going on. Sat by the waterfront for a while, just enjoying the view and watching the crowd. The mood felt normal again. Seems the recent earthquake has slipped from the forefront of people’s minds. Chatted with the taxi driver on the way there—he brought up the structure collapse in Chatuchak. He said some of the workers who were “missing” might not be under the rubble at all, but are actually undocumented and hiding to avoid being found. Not sure if it’s true or just gossip, so I didn’t say much. Spent the early evening chilling in the hotel. Then, once the timing felt right, I headed over to Good Boy. The Mama San greeted me like an old friend—we sat outside on the couch and had a quick catch-up. Tee the papasan showed up not long after. He looked tired and a little worn out. I asked how he was, and he told me he'd just gotten out of the hospital after a three-month stay. Even showed me a photo. Said he’s trying to live healthier now, but working in a bar makes that an uphill battle. Inside, the show was starting. Same format as always, though the faces had changed—apparently a fresh batch from Laos and Vietnam. One noticeable change: Mai wasn’t in the Big Cock show. That stung. To make it worse, my favorite from last time—Number 7—got scooped up right away. No chance. Double heartbreak. Still, I scanned the lineup and noticed Number 73—cute, with a shy vibe that stood out. I waved him over. Turns out he’s only been working there for a couple of months. Took him a few minutes to open up, but soon enough he was smiling, getting playful, and clearly trying to seal the deal. I found his awkwardness kind of adorable, so I offed him. Wasn’t sure yet if I wanted him for LT. When I asked, he just said, “Up to you,” with that same sheepish smile. We stopped by Foodland after and I asked what he wanted to eat. He just said, “You can order for me.” Again—so unsure of himself but in a sweet way. It made me wonder how many more months he’ll stay that way before the bar life fully gets to him. Back at the hotel, things shifted. He relaxed a lot more and was surprisingly cheeky and passionate once we were alone. The whole thing turned out better than I expected. Afterward, we were curled up in bed and I asked if he wanted to stay the night. Same answer, same shy smile: “Up to you.” And just like that, another Bangkok night ended—with cuddles, quiet, and the buzz of the city outside.

I woke up in a mild panic, thinking I’d slept through my alarm—but nope, it was only 8:45 p.m. Crisis averted. Still plenty of time to get ready before heading out to Surawong. First order of business: a well-deserved foot massage. A little treat to get me in the right mood for the night.It’s one of those simple pleasures that just never gets old. Relaxing, quiet, cheap. Bangkok doing what Bangkok does best. After that, I made my way to Dragon and Koi. It was already past ten, and from the outside, the place looked pretty dead—just a couple of customers inside. Still, I figured why not? Let’s check it out anyway. As soon as I sat down and ordered, one of the hosts came over like clockwork. You know the drill—“Where you from?”, “How long are you in Bangkok?”—the usual icebreakers. But this guy was different. His name was Pi, and he could actually hold a conversation. I was genuinely enjoying our chat, so I offered to buy him drinks. Turns out, Pi is from Myanmar. He used to be a science and math teacher back home and has a Physics degree (which, honestly, blew my mind a little). But because of everything going on politically, he left the country. He doesn’t want to be part of the current regime and ended up in Bangkok, trying to start over. He’s learning Thai and hoping to teach again—either here or when things get better back home. It was a heavy story, but he carried himself with such positivity. I really admired that. We ended up talking about all sorts of things—he showed me pictures from Myanmar’s version of Songkran, and I could see how proud he was. I actually had a great time, and when I left, I made a mental note: I’m coming back here for sure. On the way back, I passed by Atlas around midnight, but it looked kind of dead. So I pulled a U-turn and headed to Hotmale instead. Few customers, which was a relief—I never love being the only one with 10 boys on stage staring you down like you're the last chicken wing at a party. Hotmale had definitely changed since last year. New faces, new performances, and even a couple of drag lip-sync acts thrown in. The red jogging pants were gone (RIP), replaced by white shorts, and in one act, black underwear. No complaints here. I didn’t waste time and invited someone from the stage—James. And guess what? He’s also from Myanmar. I swear I don’t plan this, but I always end up with Burmese guys without realizing it. They’re just… really good-looking, okay? When I asked about long time, James kind of danced around the answer, giving me some vague excuse. I was this close to sending him back, but then I looked at his face again and thought—eh, maybe a short quiet night in with good company isn’t such a bad idea. I already had two consecutive long time offs during this trip so maybe time for a break. So a few minutes later we were in a Grab taxi heading back to my hotel.