The humidity hit me the moment I stepped out of Suvarnabhumi Airport. At 42, I’d traveled enough to know that Bangkok’s heat was different, thick, insistent, like a warm wet towel draped over my shoulders. I loosened my tie and flagged down a taxi to my hotel on Sukhumvit Road.
This was supposed to be a straightforward business trip. Ten days of contract negotiations with a Thai manufacturing client. I’d packed my best suits, loaded my briefcase with documents, and expected nothing more than air-conditioned conference rooms and expensive dinners with overly polite executives.
The universe had other plans.
Days 1-3: arriving in Bangkok’s Sukhumvit district
Sunday through Tuesday passed in a blur of meetings. I barely saw Bangkok beyond the interior of my client’s glass tower near Sathorn. My hotel room near Nana BTS station became a cocoon of work emails and case files. I ordered room service, reviewed contracts, and fell asleep with my laptop still open.
By Wednesday evening, cabin fever had set in. My client’s young assistant, noticing my restlessness as we wrapped up another ten-hour session, smiled knowingly.
“You should experience Bangkok nightlife, Khun Marcus. Sukhumvit area very famous. Many entertainment. You are here alone, yes?”
I nodded. I’d been divorced for three years. No girlfriend, no obligations. Just me and my Volvo and my predictable life in Seattle.
“Try Nana Plaza,” he continued. “Or Soi Cowboy. Very famous for visitors. You will enjoy.”
First night at Nana Plaza: initial impressions
The walk from my hotel to Nana Plaza took less than ten minutes, but it felt like crossing into another dimension. The complex appeared before me like a three-story temple of neon and noise. Music pounded from competing sound systems. Thai women in bikinis danced on elevated stages behind plate glass windows, calling out to passing foreigners in English, Japanese, and German.
I chose a ground-floor bar at random and ordered a Singha beer. Within seconds, three women materialized around me, asking my name, where I was from, would I buy them a drink? The attention was flattering but overwhelming. I bought a few lady drinks at 180 baht each, made polite conversation, and after an hour excused myself.
Soi Cowboy, a nice walk away, offered more of the same. I ended up at a bar called Tilac, nursing a whiskey while chatting with a British expat who’d been coming to Bangkok for twenty years. The conversation was pleasant enough, but something felt off. I couldn’t quite articulate it, the transactional nature of it all, perhaps, or the choreographed desire that everyone seemed to be performing.
I returned to my hotel around midnight, more confused than satisfied.
Discovering Bangkok’s Ladyboy bar scene
The next evening found me at Hillary 11 on Soi 11, a more relaxed venue with a live band and a mixed crowd of locals and tourists. Also a fair amount of Bangkok freelancers looking for customers. I struck up a conversation with an Australian named Greg who’d lived in Bangkok for six years and seemed to know every bar in the city.
“So you hit up Nana and Cowboy?” Greg asked, working on his third beer. “Did you check out any of the ladyboy spots?”
I nearly choked on my drink. “The what?”
Greg grinned. “Mate, Bangkok’s famous for it. Best-looking ladyboys in the world. Even if it’s not your thing, they’re worth seeing. Some of them are more stunning than genetic women. It’s actually kind of mind-blowing.”
I laughed it off, made some joke about being a straight-laced American lawyer, and changed the subject. But for the rest of that evening, and long after I’d returned to my hotel room, Greg’s comment kept circling through my mind. Not in arousal. More like intellectual curiosity. I’d read articles about Thailand’s transgender community, knew Bangkok had a reputation, but I’d filed it away as something exotic and foreign, not something that would ever intersect with my life.
Lying in bed that night, I found myself Googling “ladyboy bars Bangkok” on my phone. Just research. Cultural curiosity. That’s what I told myself.
Inside Cascade Bar: my first Ladyboy Go-Go experience
Cascade Bar at Nana Plaza came up immediately in my search. One of the most famous ladyboy nightlife go-go bars in the city, located on the ground floor with neon pink signage impossible to miss. Reviews said the performers were stunning and the atmosphere was welcoming even for first-timers.
I spent most of Friday in meetings, but the thought of that bar kept creeping into my consciousness during contract discussions and lunch presentations. By evening, I’d convinced myself it was just anthropological interest. I was a tourist. This was a famous aspect of Bangkok culture. What harm could one visit do?
Walking into Cascade felt like stepping through a portal into a parallel universe. The bass vibrated through the floor. Cigarette smoke mixed with perfume and the sweet smell of Thai whiskey. Strobe lights caught glitter on skin as performers moved in practiced synchronization. The bar was packed with foreign men of all ages, and the stage held about fifteen performers in matching red outfits dancing to Thai pop music.
And Greg wasn’t kidding. These weren’t what I’d expected. I’d had some vague, probably offensive image in my head of what a “ladyboy” would look like. The reality shattered every preconception. These were gorgeous. Long flowing hair, perfect makeup, bodies that curved in all the right places, feminine features that would fool anyone. If someone had shown me photos without context, I would have bet my law degree they were genetic women.
I sat at the bar, ordered a Leo beer for 150 baht, and tried to process what I was seeing. My rational lawyer brain kept insisting these were men, but my eyes were telling me something completely different.
A performer came over during her break. She was tall, maybe 5’9″ in heels, with long black hair that fell past her shoulders and a smile that belonged in a toothpaste commercial. Everything about her read as female, her movements, her voice, the way she tilted her head when she spoke.
“First time at Cascade?” she asked in clear English.
“That obvious?”
She laughed. “You have that look. I’m Mint. Welcome.”
We talked for twenty minutes. She asked where I was from, what brought me to Bangkok, how long I was staying. Normal bar conversation, except nothing about this situation felt normal. Part of my brain kept screaming reminders about chromosomes and biology, while another part noticed how her perfume smelled like jasmine, how her laugh was genuinely warm, how when she touched my arm during conversation it sent an unexpected jolt through me.
I bought her two drinks at 180 baht each, thanked her politely, and left after an hour. Walking back to my hotel, I felt like I’d just taken a test I hadn’t studied for with no idea if I’d passed or failed.
Exploring Obsessions and Cascade: weekend at Nana Plaza
Saturday I played tourist. Grand Palace, Wat Pho, a river cruise. Very wholesome and culturally appropriate. But when evening came, I found myself walking back toward Nana Plaza. And yes, straight to Cascade and that ladyboy nightlife experience.
Mint wasn’t working, but another performer named Bow caught my attention during a stage rotation. She was petite, maybe 5’4″, with a playful energy that reminded me of actresses in romantic comedies. When she came over during her break, we fell into easy conversation. She told me about growing up in Isaan, Thailand’s rural northeast, about moving to Bangkok at nineteen with dreams of saving money for her family, about working at Cascade for three years now.
“Do you have girlfriend?” she asked at one point.
“Divorced. Three years ago.”
“You come to Thailand to forget?”
I laughed. “No, I’m here for work. The forgetting is just a bonus.”
She smiled. “Thailand good place for forget. And for remember too. Sometimes men come here and remember who they really are.”
The comment hung in the air between us. I wasn’t sure what she meant, or if I wanted to know.
Sunday night I found myself at Obsessions, another ladyboy bar on Nana Plaza’s second floor. Bigger than Cascade, with more elaborate cabaret-style performances on a larger stage. The talent was incredible, dancers who could have been on any stage in the world, performing choreographed routines to Western pop hits. Shows ran every hour from 9 PM to 1 AM, each more impressive than the last.
I met a performer named Fern who sat with me between shows. She was 26, funny, and had this magnetic confidence that I found both intimidating and attractive. When she asked if I’d ever been with a ladyboy before, I shook my head.
“Never even crossed your mind before this week?” she asked, reading something in my expression.
“Honestly? No. I’ve always been… I mean, I’ve only ever been with women.”
She shrugged. “Many men say that. But you’re here three nights now. Maybe you are curious about something.”
I couldn’t argue with that logic.
Casanova on Soi Cowboy: ladyboy nightlife where everything changed
Monday evening, after a particularly tedious day of contract revisions, I did something that surprised even me. Instead of Nana Plaza, I took a Grab to Soi Cowboy and walked into Casanova, a ladyboy bar I’d read about that had a more intimate, lounge-like atmosphere.
Jazz played instead of pop music. The lighting was softer, more like a cocktail bar than a go-go venue. The performers wore elegant dresses instead of bikinis, and the whole vibe felt more sophisticated. This was a place for conversation, not spectacle.
I met Som during her break between sets. She had short hair in a pixie cut, an androgynous style that somehow only emphasized her feminine features. We talked about music, she loved jazz, had taught herself piano. We talked about travel, she dreamed of visiting New York someday. We talked about American politics, Thai culture, the strangeness of being from one place and living in another.
She was smart. Sharp. Made me laugh. And when she asked if I wanted to go somewhere quieter after her shift ended, I said yes before my lawyer brain could talk me out of it.
We took a taxi to Telephone Pub on Silom Soi 4, part of Bangkok’s LGBT district. The bar was packed with gay men, ladyboys, and tourists. Som’s friends were there, other performers from various bars, Thai guys, a few expats. Everyone was welcoming, funny, disarmingly direct.
“So what are you?” one of Som’s friends asked me after a few drinks. “Gay? Bi? Curious?”
“I honestly don’t know,” I admitted. “I’ve never been with a man. I’ve always dated women.”
“But you’re here with Som.”
I looked at Som, who was watching me with an amused expression. “Yeah. I am.”
“Som is a woman,” her friend said matter-of-factly. “She have different body, but she is woman. If you like her, you like her. Don’t need label.”
The simplicity of that statement hit me harder than it should have.
Around midnight, Som asked if I wanted to go back to my hotel. My heart was pounding as we took a taxi back to Sukhumvit. In the elevator, she held my hand. Her hand was soft, her nails painted pale pink.
In my room, she was gentle, patient, reading my nervousness with practiced ease. When she kissed me, it felt like kissing a woman, soft lips, the taste of lip gloss, the smell of her perfume. When she guided my hand to her body, I felt curves, smoothness, femininity in every touch.
But when my hand moved lower, I felt something that reminded me this wasn’t quite what I was used to. She was still intact, pre-op, and in that moment I had a choice. I could stop, apologize, retreat into my comfortable identity as a straight man who’d just been curious.
Instead, I kept going.
What happened that night defied the categories I’d lived my entire life within. Som’s touch was gentle, exploratory, patient with my hesitation. When she kissed down my neck, when her hands found my body, when we moved together in the dim light from the Bangkok skyline outside, it felt fundamentally human. Intimate. Real. The biological differences that my rational brain kept trying to catalog became irrelevant against the overwhelming sensation of connection, desire, and something close to tenderness between two people choosing vulnerability together.
Afterward, lying in the dark with Som curled against me, I felt like I’d crossed some invisible line into uncharted territory.
Processing my experience: questions about sexuality
I could barely focus during Tuesday’s meetings. My mind kept replaying the previous night, trying to categorize what had happened, what it meant about me. The mental gymnastics were exhausting.
Was I gay? No, that didn’t feel right. I’d never looked at men and felt attraction. Even now, the idea did nothing for me.
Was I bisexual? Maybe, but that label felt too broad. I wasn’t attracted to masculinity in any form.
Was there a word for being attracted to femininity regardless of what body it came in? If there was, I didn’t know it.
That evening I met Som for dinner at a quiet Thai restaurant on Sukhumvit. No bar, no drinks, just conversation over pad thai and green curry. I asked her questions I’d been too nervous to voice before.
“Do most of your customers identify as straight?”
She considered this. “Many say they are straight, yes. Some gay men come to ladyboy bars, but mostly straight men. Or men who think they are straight.”
“Does it bother you? That distinction?”
“Why would it bother me? I know who I am. I am woman with different body. Some men can see past the body. Some men like the body because it is different. Some men like because they can say ‘not gay, is ladyboy.’ Everyone has their reasons.”
“What about you? What do you want?”
She looked at me thoughtfully. “I want to be seen as woman. I want to be treated with respect. I want to save money for surgery someday, to have body that matches who I am inside. I want same things most women want.”
The honesty in her answer made my throat tight. I reached across the table and held her hand. She smiled.
Final night at Above Eleven: Saying goodbye to Bangkok
My flight back to Seattle was Thursday morning, so Wednesday was my last night in Bangkok. Som had the evening off, so we met at Above Eleven, a rooftop bar with panoramic views of the city’s glittering skyline. We ordered cocktails and sat on the outdoor terrace. The city spread below us like a circuit board, traffic lights pulsing red and gold. Warm wind carried the smell of street food from 50 floors down.
“Will you come back to Bangkok?” she asked.
“I think so. I’ll probably need to do follow-up meetings in a few months.”
“And will you see me again? Or was this just vacation curiosity?”
The question deserved an honest answer. “I’m not sure what this is, Som. I’m not sure what it means about me. But I know I want to see you again. I know these past few days have been… important.”
She smiled. “You think too much, Marcus. Lawyers always think too much. Sometimes you just feel what you feel and that is enough.”
We spent our last night together at my hotel. In the morning, she helped me pack, folding my suits with the same care I imagined she used for her stage costumes. At the door, we exchanged Line contacts and email addresses. She kissed me goodbye, and I memorized how it felt, soft, warm, tasting faintly of coffee.
The taxi ride to the airport felt like leaving something unfinished.
What this experience taught me about Bangkok’s Ladyboy Scene
Looking back now, here’s what I wish I’d understood before that first night at Cascade:
It’s more common than you think. At least 30-40% of customers at these bars identify as straight men exploring curiosity. I wasn’t an anomaly, I was part of a larger phenomenon of men questioning the rigid categories we’ve been given.
Pre-op versus post-op matters to some, not to others. Som helped me understand that attraction isn’t always about anatomy. For me, it was about her femininity, her personality, her energy. The rest was just details.
The performers are professionals. They’re skilled at reading nervousness and making first-timers comfortable. Mint, Bow, Fern, Som—they all recognized my uncertainty and met it with patience rather than judgment.
It’s not about being gay. Many men attracted to ladyboys have zero interest in masculine men. Attraction to femininity doesn’t fit neatly into gay or straight categories. Sometimes the boxes we’re given simply don’t accommodate reality.
Bangkok offers a judgment-free space. That’s why it’s become a global destination for sexual self-discovery. In Seattle, this kind of exploration would come with whispers and judgment. In Bangkok, it’s just another Tuesday night.
Three weeks later: reflections and planning my return
I’ve been back in Seattle for three weeks now. I think a lot about the ladyboy nightlife experience. I go to work in my Brooks Brothers suits, review contracts, attend partner meetings, have drinks with colleagues who ask if my Bangkok trip was productive. I tell them the negotiations went well. I don’t tell them about Cascade Bar or Obsessions or a woman named Som who showed me that my understanding of myself was built on assumptions I’d never bothered to question.
My apartment looks exactly the same. My Volvo is still parked in the same spot. My routine is unchanged. But I’m different. Something cracked open in Bangkok that I can’t close again, even if I wanted to.
I don’t know what label fits me. I’m not sure if I need one. What I know is this: I was attracted to Som. Powerfully, genuinely attracted. Not despite her body, not because of some fetish, but because she was beautiful and funny and smart and stirred something in me I’d thought was long dormant.
I’ve already booked another trip to Bangkok for eight weeks from now. I told my firm it’s for contract follow-up. That’s partially true. But really, I need to see Som again. I need to figure out if what I felt was real or just the product of jet lag and exotic circumstances. I need to understand this part of myself that apparently existed all along, just waiting for the right person to reveal it.
Maybe I’ll have answers by then. Maybe I won’t. But here’s what I learned in ten days in Bangkok: sexuality is more fluid than the rigid boxes we’re given, attraction doesn’t follow the rules we think it should, and sometimes the person who helps you understand yourself looks nothing like what you expected.
So yeah. I’m a 42-year-old corporate lawyer from Seattle who went to Bangkok for business and discovered that “straight” might not be the whole story. And I’m okay with not having all the answers yet.
Because Som was right. Sometimes you just feel what you feel, and that’s enough.
Disclaimer: Reader Story
This is a reader-submitted personal story reflecting one individual’s experience in Bangkok. The experiences, feelings, and discoveries shared are those of the author. Views and opinions expressed do not necessarily reflect those of BangkokAfterDark.com. Everyone’s journey of self-discovery is unique. Always treat all individuals with respect regardless of gender identity.
