Handsooome Li'l Me .... by Adam (2004)

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I didn’t realise until my first days in Thailand that I am among the most handsome white men in the gay solar system. Sure, there are others like me. They come from France or Germany or maybe Australia. A few of them resemble George Clooney or Jude Law. But the others who share that title with me? Well… they look a bit more like Slobodan Milosevic Or perhaps Dick Cheney, but without the spry athleticism.

Yes, something happens to the Western gay male when he enters this great Kingdom. Suddenly, years of self-doubt, mediocrity or just plain repulsiveness vanish in a puff as the law of supply and demand asserts itself.

It was my first night in Phuket six years ago when I realized this. I exited my hotel and the calls of “hellooo handsooooome” lapped against my ears and pursued me through each of the gay side streets.

Such unsolicited worship can surely perk up a self-image. I imagined myself resembling a young Brad Pitt – perhaps in a hip-high Roman skirt – knocking aside touts with my swinging cheekbones. I swaggered past my adoring masses, clenching and releasing muscles to the rhythm of passing tuk-tuks. My healthy gay narcissism inflated to record levels.

But then I started to look around.

Behind me I noticed a 110-year-old man with something resembling a cow’s udder sprouting from his neck. Oddly, he too was bequeathed the “handsoooome” moniker. To the left was Rodney Dangerfield – his wheelchair lovingly attended to by a cute 18-year-old. To the right, Margaret Thatcher with a moustache was fending off bum grabs.

I assumed the gap between true attractiveness and dirty-old-man was bridged mostly by Baht. Cash certainly is an odds-evener. But I’ve (almost) never been asked for money or free trips or a new pair of shoes. So there is something more going on here than mere financial endowments.

Sure, I’m a fairly attractive guy, and not so old at 33. But the amount of attention I receive, and the level of beauty that I am permitted to invite back to my place, surpass my aging mediocrity by leagues.

Why am I so successful? Well… let’s look at the laws of economics. It’s a simple case of demand outpacing supply.

Demand: Years of Hollywood movies, decades of fiction-building about the power, wealth and sexiness of the white male, and perhaps a lack of brutal colonization by any Western country have left approximately 50% of gay Thai males infatuated with my kind. And disinterested in their own.  (Figures according to my personal surveying.)

Supply: This is Thailand. So logically, there just aren’t many of us here, compared with the numbers of Thai men. And most of “us” are over 80 and battling prostate issues. I believe I am the youngest gay white male in Chiang Mai, if that proves my point. I’m certainly one of few without swinging underarm fat.

Okay, I admit I’ve also encountered the odd attractive older guy whose elegance far exceeds my own. I can sometimes see what appeals: stature, intelligence, experience, grace. As dating criteria, sometimes these might actually overshadow the fact that one’s ears or nostrils produce enough hair to knit a cardigan.

But generally, I outflank the lackluster competition. And I like it that way. I can come-on-to 22-year-olds with flirtatious patter and they are actually interested. Try that back home in Canada and the boys stare at me like I just vomited a cloud of locusts.

It’s usually encouraging to look around the bars and see challengers sidling their ripened pot-bellies up for a beer. They’re the competition, and long live the free market!

So, if you’re a foreigner thinking of a permanent stay in Thailand, feel free. Bring your ebbing hairlines and broken hips to town – I can take you on! But to those who might be described as young or handsome (rather than “handsoooome”), well, you can just go on home now. It’s better you don’t mess with certain economic principles.

This article appeared in The Nation newspaper, October 29, 2004.