discoecstasy

"Do you know gay men are more racist than their straight counterpart?" A friend asked me one day.
"Really? How did you come to that conclusion?" I replied.
"Just look at the stuff people type on their Grindr, Jack'd, planetromeo, what have you profile. 'Not into Asians.', 'Prefer Chinese.', 'Only into Caucasians / Latinos.' I mean, it reeks of racism."
"Oh, they're not racist. Just stupid."

It's really hard, even with anecdotal evidence, to measure if gays are more racist than straight people. How do you do that? By reviewing what gay vs straight people post on their facebook or personal profiles? Racism goes beyond what is typed onto the cloud, through the fingertips of the person and dwelves into the deep-rooted psyche of the person himself. What he really feels, what he really thinks, what triggers that "Hate" button. Plus the fact that some posts on personals are just made in jest, stupidity or taken out of context makes it all the more difficult to measure it.

But I can offer a conjecture why some social observers believe this might be the case - that gays tend to be more racist than straight people.

I have learned from experience that typically, gay men are typically attracted to an "enhanced" or more "idealised" version of himself. If he could, he would "be" the person he is attracted to. Take me. A typical gym bunny. I am attracted to the gymmer type, as muscular if not more so than myself. He would not pale in comparison when it comes to looks, share the same sense of humour, carries himself as much if not better.

When I test this hypothesis from my infrequent visits to the gay scene, or through observation, I realise this to be generally true. Generally. There are always outliers. But stocky g-men tend to go for stocky g-men, gymmers tend to like gymmers. Effeminate men would be attracted to masculine men because they view masculine men as an "enhanced" version of themselves. Masculine men, unfortunately, would probably give the sissies a wide berth. Gymmers will avoid the chubs and skinnies. That's because they - chubs and skinnies - are not an idealised version of the gymmers. Hell, the gymmers spent years escaping / avoiding becoming chubby / skinny, they don't wanna go back!

So how does race gets thrown into this cesspool of confusing rules of attraction then? Well, if my hypothesis serves me right, then if an "enhanced" version of yourself is someone who looks like a Japanese / Taiwanese g-man, then sadly some races are not predisposed to that type of look, like Indians (skin not fair enough), or Caucasians (hair not black). Similarly if a Caucasian gay man's "idealised" version of himself, with whom he'd like to fuck, is someone who looks like Kellan Lutz, then he wouldn't go for Asians.

Naturally, some people might therefore, after more than one rejection, take offense to the racial undertone associated with it. But I guess they have to understand that often, it is not because the person in question dislikes people of a particular race. Well, in some cases, they really might. But I would think that most of the times, the racism is accidental. They do really get a hard-on for a clone of themselves. It's just unfortunate you can't fit into that mold.

Recently a debacle erupted across our sunny island state when the residents of Woodlands and Toh Yi Drive reared their collective ugly heads and showed the rest of the nation what ageists they are.

Certain heartlanders in Woodlands vociferously objected to the government's plan to build a day care center for the elderly at their void decks, citing reasons from fearing a drop in property prices to traffic congestion, to just plain disgust at seeing old people walking around. Meanwhile, some Toh Yi residents protested the government's intention of building studio apartments meant for the, again, elderly around their area, likening these studio apartments to "death houses" - alluding to the olden days where old people were moved to shophouses along Sago Street at Chinatown to die. Again, a perceived drop in property prices was cited as a reason for the protest, as well as fearing that the old folks will spread infection & diseases to the rest of the neighbours.

I'm no doctor. But I think the likelihood of young kindergarten kids spreading infections & diseases to older folks are higher than the other way round. Needless to say, I am rather affected by this "not in my backyard" and ageist attitude displayed by these residents. Strange thing is, these residents recognise that Singapore faces an increasingly aging population. Yet, they can't accept that therefore, these facilities need to be built.

Why does this heartlander news affect the sensibilities of a gay cosmopolite like me? Well, that's because I recognize that one day, I too shall grow old, if I haven't got my life cut short along the way by accident or incident. And when that time comes, I too will need elder care or a studio apartment to live out my final days. Being gay, I won't have the luxury of having any "future generations" take care of me. Even if I am attached, my partner will just be as old as I am & will need to be taken care for. Hunky male nurse? Banish that fantasy please. Get real. We'll be alone, and we'll probably die alone. So, if this typical selfish, short-sighted attitude of some residents is allowed to perpetuate down the generations, when I'm 64, who knows, I could be told to banish myself to somewhere far far away because this ain't no country for old men.

I shall not go into a discussion to question how our society ended up this way. Is it (as always) the government's fault? Did the government policies mold Singapore into becoming an ageist and selfish society? (You can read an analysis @ yawning bread's wordpress) Are Singaporeans generally a hypocritical bunch by saying how we espouse "traditional values" but somehow, respecting and taking care of the elderly is excluded from that mythical basket of values?

Regardless. This is the time, I feel, that the government should cut this "listening to the ground" post-election sissy approach and kick it old school authoritarian style. Drag LKY from his retirement sofa to show these ageists in Woodlands and Toh Ti the middle finger and then tell these MFs to stick it where the sun don't shine. The elder care and studios will be built. If these folks are not happy, they can go live in Hougang or Aljunied, where perhaps Mao Mao can show them a warmer welcome.

zenhiao's parties are always interesting because each time I attend one, I get to meet some new & interesting people. One of them is Yang. A creative director in an ad agency, at 32 he's already earning a 5 figure monthly salary which he spends lavishly on his newly bought house and designer bags.

Compared to the average Singaporean, he has certainly made it. FYI, the monthly average income of Singaporeans is $4,677 in 2011. I do earn more than the average Singaporean, but at 39, my monthly salary is hardly near the 5 figure mark.

I am not perturbed by it, however. I am quite happy with what I've got. After all, I am only looking after myself and I am not a spender by nature. I save comfortably enough to treat myself to a nice holiday twice a year, and I am razor close to paying off my housing loan.

That is what is bugging me right now. Let me explain.

There are some people, like Yang, whose main career goals are placed upon a path through particular positions of power & responsibility. "I want to be a director when I'm 35. I want to be a VP when I'm 40". So naturally, they strive hard to get there. Remuneration that commensurates to these positions then come along the way.

Then there are people who chart their career goals upon how much they earn. "$4,000 when I am 28. $6,000 when I am..." I notice this trend particularly more among straight men than gay men. Especially straight married men. I think it is because saddled with a wife and children, they have that responsibility to keep the household running. And as kids grow older, they more they have to earn to ensure the kids and wifey are well provided for. Fuck that directorship. If I can earn lots and still stay a manager, I'd rather be a manager.

Then there's those kind like me. I am one of those bimbotic gay men who do not have a career goal. At all. I am not aimless on the contrary. I have strong personal goals instead. I told myself then that at 35, I will own a condominium unit. At 45, I would've paid it off. At 55, I would earn enough to semi-retire. And so, I work hard to earn enough to get there. The career just came along for the ride.

And so far, that plan has been going pretty much on track. I bought a condo unit at 32. I will pay it off very soon. I have charted my insurance and savings plan such that I will have a tidy sum when I am 55. So that's taken care of.

So what happens now?

Granted, this is a personal crisis that is frivolous compared to, say, world hunger, or an average Singaporean's problem of making ends meet. I ought to be ashamed.

But I have a nagging feeling this approach cannot go on forever. If I have to maintain my current lifestyle, I need to amp up. Every year, younger, fresher, more energetic and driven people are pouring into the workforce while old fogies are clinging onto their jobs. My current and prospective employers will look at me funny if I seem content maintaining what I do while the work place becomes more demanding. I *will* end up losing my job if I don't run faster - just to keep myself in the same position. My parents and friends will chastise me for wasting, as they deem, the prime years of my life by not pursuing, in my opinion, abstract goals of power and responsibility.

The thing is, I need a cause for motivating myself to amp up. I have narrowed it down to 2 choices.

1. Grow up and start charting a career path like the likes of Yang. Which means I have to develop a new mindset altogether - building that desire for more power or position, a desire I have very little to begin with; or
2. conjure a strong enough "want" to work hard and earn enough to attain that "want". Problem is that I realise I have all I ever need.

I would need to meditate on this totally, totally bourgeois problem.

"How old do I look, Cris?" Joey asked me as we were walking back to her car after a night out with ex-college mates from our JC days. I looked at her, and seemed to detect a quick flash of fear, with a little bit of jadedness thrown in the mix.

Joey and I share the same birthday. Like, literally. Same day, month AND year. And I'd say we're both rather alike in our opinion and approach to things. As if that wasn't serendipitous enough, we were both recently single again, hence we've been commiserating with each other lately.

"You look 32, 33?" I said, in all honesty. One thing I've learned from answering dicey questions from women is that honesty is always the best policy. Flattery can sometimes fall flat and that's when women hate it when guys, or gay men, become condescending. Plus, she's a friend. I don't get condescending with friends.

"I thought you'd say I look younger." She pouted. Ooops. "But well, I think you and I both, we're really lucky to look younger than we really are."

I know. But I wonder how long before the age starts seeping through the cracks. There's only so much conscious dieting, working out, hydration and 8 hours of sleep can get you. Eventually, time will run out. The crow feet dig deeper, and the blemishes bloom larger.

If you're a woman, married to an average louse of a husband with 2 kids, living in a comfortable estate and a job that's not so much of a career, it's fine. Let the old roll in, and let the fat fall. After all, by all counts, you've led a rather fulfilling life. People will judge you by the brats you're bringing up and the husband you're reining in.

But if you're single, or recently divorced and out there searching for that second shot of happiness, the thought of free fall aging can be a little daunting. Because you're supposed to remain attractive enough, despite your age, to have at least a chance of finding someone. Everyone knows men, being visual creatures, are attracted to attractive women. They could be older women, but still, attractive women. Madonna is an attractive woman, physically (except for those veiny arms). Helen Mirren, ooh la la. Yes, they're not young, but they're well maintained. Mention their names and there'll be men who'll still fuck them. But importantly, they're not tired looking. That's the clincher. You can't be looking as if you've barely survived a personal catastrophe and is still holing up in a shell-shocked purgatory, not quite dead in spirit, but not alive enough to live your life fully. And that - not looking jaded - can be a little tough especially if you've been told you're not wanted or cherished one too many times.

Same goes for the gays like me as well. And it's probably even worse in the gay circle. We're lookists, all of us. How many GayRomeo, Grindr and Jack'd profiles have we come across where profiles proclaim "No uncles, no chubs, no skinnies, no fems, no this, no that"? Every single "No" is purely based on outward appearances. Because to us gay men, that is the first filter we use to sieve out people whom we don't think we can click with. Never mind the ugly looking chubby uncle that wanted to get close to us recently invented a cure for AIDS. That's because we're all lookists. I'm guilty of that myself.

And so, as I embark on my days as a singleton again, well, I have to be mindful. Time is ticking. And the gym is my second home. But most importantly, work hard to never, ever look jaded. Walk out of the house looking like I'm a million bucks, enter the gay scene like it's my very first time. Nobody needs to know all the horrors & heartaches I've been exposed to in my life. And nobody needs to see how many times I've died.

This evening I met my ex (we were together for 9 months) for dinner. Well, I say ex, but I'm not sure if he considers me his ex. Perhaps to him, I wasn't even his boyfriend in the first place. Who knows? The depths of the human heart is too unfathomable, even for me, Mr I've-Written-It-All. As I recalled in our break-up discussion, he had some issues with the fact that I so readily considered myself his boyfriend where as he wasn't so sure. But rewind a few months back, both of us lying in bed, I asked him if we were boyfriends and he said, "I guess so."

Fickle.

The whole point of dinner, besides the amicable catch-up, was to also return our respective ... collateral to each other. My Bumblebee miniature, some CDs and a DVD; his books and his non-camera phone.

I think overall, we managed the situation well. No one was particularly dour, and no tears were shed at the end of the evening. Perhaps a wistful smile from me. But was he just too eager to get out of there? Who knows? The depths of the human heart is too unfathomable.

But overall, I think with respect to our post break-up behaviour, we have it pretty OK. I mean, yes there is a sense of dismay from my part & probably a hint of resentment from his with regards to the denouement of our relationship. But I think still we have enough good feelings towards each other to keep in touch. I know some friends like Clare still keep in close touch with his exes. But at the other end of the spectrum, another ex couple I know, Richard and Sean, can't be friends anymore.

Which I think is a shame. Coincidentally, I made dinner for Richard 2 nights ago at my place, just the 2 of us, and the conversation flowed as smoothly as the wine poured. Besides asking him how he was settling into a strange new city in China, where he is now based, I also gingerly cantered around the prospects of him mending fences with Sean.

"But both of you are my friends..." I pleaded in the best imitation of Carrie Bradshaw, except I was sipping Sauvignon Blanc instead of a Cosmo.
"Well, you are friends with me and him, but that doesn't mean I have to be friends with him." He grinned.

I venture a conjecture that there has been too much negativity versus good memories in those 7 years they were together that tipped the scale that drastically. But who knows? The depths of the human heart ...

"I don't know if Jude would like to keep in touch with me" I said, referring to my ex. "I would like to stay friends with him. I'd be sad if he doesn't want to."
"But so what if he doesn't want to stay friends? I mean, what's so special about him that makes you want to stay friends with him? I'm sure your many other friends also possess those same qualities, no?"

I couldn't answer Richard that evening. Perhaps I was too inebriated. But as I am typing this, I come to realise something that Jude possesses which my friends do not. Another point of view. He is after all very perceptive of things, as Sean also remarked more than once, and I noticed in many previous conversations, he offered a take from an angle I didn't see. So yes, he's a keeper for a friend.

Conversely, I'm not sure what I can offer him post breakup for him to want to maintain ties with me. So perhaps he won't bother since we've already returned our collateral to each other. Or not. But who knows? The depths of the hum --- Oh, you get it!

Late last year, my cousin, all of 20 years old, came out to me. It wasn't by choice - I am the only person he knows who is gay and that has the financial resources to lift him out of trouble (which I did). He told me to keep his orientation a secret, but I told my parents anyway because his situation was so dire his Catholic parents would eventually know as well (which they did) and would probably kick him out of the house (which they didn't), and my parents were the only more liberal relatives that would shelter him unconditionally (which they would) if it ever came to that. Having said, that episode of his has come to pass and so far, everything seemed OK. On the surface at least.

As a result of coming out to me, we became closer as cousins, and soon, he began approaching me for advice in relationships and being gay in general. I am OK with that, but clearly my mother is uncomfortable with the situation, so much so that she warned me not to become too chummy with my cousin for the simple reason that one day, he will broach his orientation to his parents again, and the last thing my mom wants is for me to get dragged into this "discoecstasy the devil spawn influenced my dear son to become gay" shenanigan.

My mom has a point, especially since my uncle and aunt are rather staunch in their Jesus faith. You know how Christians are. And the last thing I want is to get blamed for my cousin's gayness because, true to my devil spawn style of confrontation, I will in the words of Russell Crowe, "unleash hell".

But my cousin needs an ally, especially now, when he is just starting to come into this world as an adult. I remembered doing it alone 20 years ago, and boy was it traumatic! Imagine, me at 19, thinking that I was the only gay in the village. I was confused, I was ashamed, I was sad. I had no one to turn to, I was fearful of being found out so badly I alienated myself from my parents, from relatives, from people that could've cared and helped me constructively.

I know how tough it was, and I don't want my cousin to go through it alone. He needs help. So against his better judgement, I hinted to his elder sister about him during dinner. She was quick enough to join the dots. I know her. She's not judgmental, and she truly loves him enough to accept him for who he is. And indeed, she affirmed that intention, which is a relief to me. I really hope to be able to be a good counsel and guide to my cousin. Unfortunately, to preserve the peace, someone closer will have to do the job for now.

I feel sad for my grandma though. She's so prone to losing her grandsons. :p

And so on Valentine's Day, while the lovebirds of Singapore flocked to the plethora of dimly lit restaurants to romance each other, there I was, sweaty and still wearing my gym gear, chowing down at The Soup Spoon. Hey, I've got the member's card that gives me $1 off every $10 order, so I ain't complaining.

I didn't feel awkward nor daft, dining alone on Valentine's Day. I'm used to it anyways. I've been so used to being alone and single for the past 9 Valentine's that it has ceased to rouse any form of regret or self-pity. And neither do I need any pity from anybody for that matter. I'm not defiant, but I've come to believe we and only we ourselves choose the paths we want to take in our lives half the time. The other half - it's chance.

But if circumstances deal me a life of a singleton, I could either take my chances to defy the circumstance, or I could just take it easy and enjoy what I can't control, and let things come what may. When it comes to love, I'm not a fighter. I would fight for the plenitude of things the world has to offer. But love is not one of them. It is not because I do not know what I want when it comes to love, or the affairs of my heart. In fact, I know what I want, clearly. Which isn't what the majority wants. Although, talking to a few acquaintances and friends along the way - I realise I am not alone in my attitude towards the definition of "being attached".

Regardless, I'm not sad that I do not have what I want when it comes to love, as my definition of loving someone is quite different, even as compared with the mainstream gay population. No, I'm not sad. It's just as is.

The perils of having a regional job is that I often find myself alone in a sea of people. I leave the comforts & convenience of my own country and I go some foreign city to work for a few days - some place where I have no friends, where I am a stranger to. I get holed up in an office with my associates for 6 to 8 hours on stretch and at the end of the work day, I suddenly find myself alone in the evening wondering where to go and what to do.

A few times my associates, or even colleagues, invite me out to "some fantastic place for the best local foods" but I always decline, citing some lame (but valid) excuse that I needed to catch up with my office emails. That's true to a certain extent, but I could usually clear my office stuff all within an hour. Which leaves me 3 to 4 hours of the evening wondering, and sometimes wandering, in a foreign city.

In Singapore, there's always the comforts of my own home, my parents, my friends - people I don't work with - to slumber into. But as a stranger in a strange city, where English is a second language, where their deep seated culture is so overwhelmingly different from what you are familiar with, it can get a little alienating.

The reason why I decline my associates' or colleagues' invitations is simple - I spend 6 to 8 hours with them arguing, agreeing to disagree, formulating compromises, answering the tough questions, making the tough call, all the heavy stuff. I need a break from them. And I'm a type of person that cannot disassociate a person from his job. I lump them together. The more then, that I can't bring myself to eat with them and view their work decisions and their off-work persona as two entirely different things.

And so I usually dine alone. Apart from the fact that I have no one to converse with, therefore making the dinner a rather sombre and sober affair, I quite like certain advantages dining alone comes with. I get to collect my thoughts, I get to calm down from all the buzz that goes around in the day, but most importantly, I get to reset everything - my feelings about certain people & situations, my feelings about my own feelings, my heart.

My friend told me how before each business trip, she would plan which nice world acclaimed restaurants she would visit in the city she'd be visiting, and make it a point to eat there. I do that too - but on personal trips because I am the master of my own planning and timing. But on business trips, usually I'm too exhausted at the end of the day to decide to try that Michelin star restaurant or that out of the way but world's best blah blah. Plus I won't be able to enjoy my food knowing that the next day, another boardroom battle looms. So I just go to where it's convenient. Alone. Like tonight, I'll probably be eating in the hotel or ordering room service.

Ideally, it would be nice if I know friends living in those cities I usually visit for business. It'll certainly make dining more fun, and less sombre.

But I don't know anybody in Bangkok.

I organized a post-Christmas dinner for three of my friends - let's refer to them as R, O and Henry (previously known as Bernadette until today) - this evening at Akashi. It was a good catchup because I've not seen R and O for the longest time. Henry - I celebrated his birthday 2 weeks ago so I still remember how he looks.

We barely started tucking into the sashimi and the conversation was already flying fast and furious.

Me: So O, what's with the Religious Organization That Welcomes GLBT working on a code of conduct for homosex acts?
R: Huh?
Henry: What?
Me: It's true.

Poor O. Before he could defend or explain the actions of the said organization, the rest of us had already wasted no time ridiculing and blasting the entire business into smithereens. But fair is fair, so eventually, after all the initial misgivings and eye-rolling has died down, we finally got to hear a version of what this whole debacle was all about. And I must stop here to qualify that this is just ONE version of the truth. And as we all know, there are MANY versions to the truth of something. There is also the Alan version, the Clarence version, the Luke version, and not forgetting the Mark, John and Matthew versions.

So as I understand, some members of the congregation that makes up this rather free-form communal (but obviously confused) organization had demanded the spiritual leaders of the organization to determine certain guidelines on how one should ethically behave when one is having gay sex. And it seemed that this demand has been going on for quite awhile and it has reached a point where the leaders had to do something about it and hence decided to give in to the demands of these members.

Me: Certainly something must have happened to come to this stage?
O: Well, people needed a guideline on how to conduct themselves in gay sex. They were asking questions like "Is sex outside a gay relationship OK?", "What is the organization's stand on open relationships?". They needed the organization to take a stand on what's ethically correct or otherwise.

I was utterly confounded. Have people been following a rulebook written by men so thoroughly, word for word down to the letter, that they've forgotten to think for themselves? Or is this a typical Singaporean trait - without rules, we don't know how to move?

O then challenged me - from a Buddhist point of view - are there any ethical code where sex is concerned? Yes, there is. The third of the 5 Buddhist precepts - I undertake the training rule to abstain from sexual misconduct. What constitutes sexual misconduct then? In short, not to use sex as a weapon to harm or cause suffering to another person including yourself. How do you then interpret causing harm / suffering?

Well, what does your religion as a whole teach you about causing harm & suffering? The same teachings should be applied, like lubricant, to your suited-up cock when you are about to fuck your partner's arse.

Two points I want to make here.
1. The religious guidelines you adhere to in life should be the same guidelines you adhere to at sex! Why should there be two sets of codes of ethics? A religion should be rigorous enough to withstand time and circumstances, otherwise, it is a fundamentally questionable belief system.

2. Some people like to fuck doggie style, some like it missionary. Some couples may feel that they can thrive in an open relationship, some couples believe the contrary. In reality, there is often conflict. Talk it out. It is all up to us how we want to lead our sex lives - as singletons, as couples, as tripartites, as human beings. To use a sexual analogy, cocks come in various lengths and girths. That is why there are so many different types (and flavours) of condoms in the supermarket today. Your religious leader cannot dictate that you use Durex Comfort XL condoms when all you really need are the ribbed ones. You and your partner(s) should mutually determine what's good for everyone involved.

In the jungles deep in the heart of Borneo, there are some tribes where the men and women are polygamous. It is part of their culture. No one gets hurt, everyone is happy. Who is any god to descend from the heavens to intervene and determine that their culture is wrong? No god can do that. Let alone some other fellow human beings.

So please, start thinking for yourselves. This code of ethics thing is deeply disturbing. Why are some people demanding to be shackled by the constraints of dos and don'ts instead of choosing freedom is beyond my comprehension. Perhaps I should re-open ALL my Cosmopolitan Tales to these folks for reference.

Christmas Eve and my mom popped by my place to cook. It was around 2 in the afternoon and I was cleaning the house when she trudged in with all the groceries and goodies. We were going to have home-styled steamboat later that night.

So while letting the stock boil, we sat down and had a chat over tea.

Mom: I hear you are visiting Nick's niche with dad tomorrow.
Me: Yes, I am.

She looked at me expectantly, a phrase at the tip of her tongue, longing to be heard. I cocked an eyebrow at her, waiting to hear what she had to dish out.

Mom: Look, not that I am mean or anything, but he's passed on. Would you think, drawing from your Buddhist learnings, that wherever he is, he's even aware you even went to pay him a visit?
Me: It's I guess a way of paying respects. For me at least.
Mom: You could instead attend puja and dedicate it to Nick so that he can receive good karma. I mean, that's the Buddhist way, you know.
Me: I know that.

I know that. Theoretically, that's what I've been taught. But I guess there's a certain sentiment of making the trip up to the quiet far-flung corner of Singapore and reminisce whatever past memories we can conjure up of Nick. It's illogical, it doesn't conform to the rigours of Buddhist teachings of being here and now, but it's comforting. Thereafter, I can go perform puja, but let me first wallow in the comforts of melancholy for awhile.

Mom: I mean, he's already gone.
Me: I KNOW that.
Mom: You should be here and be in the present. Focus on the people that is still around you. Visit your grandmother, your aunts, Nick's mother. Spend time with them. You don't want them to leave this world and then you start regretting not spending time with them, and then make those trips to the columbarium. It's too late.

Again, my mom is so right and so logical. But I sometimes wish she could just shuddup for awhile and drink her tea and talk niceties.