"Pang-Hae Ka Woo Cuk Ke Tik-Tor?" Grandma asked in Teochew.
[Translation: "Did you go anywhere this school holiday?"]
I replied, "Woo."
["Yes."]
"Ke Dee Kor?"
["Where did you go?"]
"Macau," I told her.
"Cek Gai Nang Ke?" she interrogated.
["You went alone?"]
"Ga Peng-You."
["With a friend."]
"Zha-Bow Peng-You Ah See Da-Bou Peng-You?" she pressed.
["Girlfriend or guy-friend?"]
"Da-Bou Peng-You."
["Boyfriend."]
From amidst the vast expanse of silvery clouds, a light drizzle formed and began to fall. Its threads swayed gently by the mild autumnal breeze, descended onto Avenida de Almeida Ribeiro where we stood. I held an umbrella between us and you held me by my shoulders to get closer under our small shelter. It is thus that we shared a discreet yet cosy embrace.
Public displays of male intimacies are usually frowned upon, except when it rains.
I snuggled up closer to you as the traffic light changed and we began to cross the road.
All the display windows featured dazzling arrays of branded watches. I grimaced at a diamond-studded gold Rolex with disgust but turned to see you browsing with interest.
"Are they expensive?" I asked, hiding my disinterest.
"I'm not sure. Let me search for a model I'm familiar with," you replied. "How much is 6000 Macau money in Singapore dollars?"
"About $1200."
"It's cheap then. That watch has a resale value of $2000 back home," you said, pointing to a rather plain-looking Rolex.
A single Chinese character on each of the neon signboards of these watch galleries betrayed the shops' true business dealings - they were all shops that resold expensive items given to them as collaterals.
"It's not surprising to see so many of these shops here within close proximities of the Casinos. If you win money, you can buy a Rolex home; if you lose, you can try your luck again after selling off your Rolex."
I thought about the Casinos to be built in Sentosa back in Singapore and wondered if such businesses would be the future of Sentosa.
I picked up a pencil and started marking a little "FF" on each of the hundred RMB notes.
"The usual tactic taxi drivers may employ is simple," you explained. "When you hand them a hundred RMB note for payment, they will pretend to study it. After a while, they will claim that you have given them a counterfeit. However, in the process of returning your note to you, they will switch your real note with one of their own counterfeit ones, thereby profiting your hundred RMB."
"In such a situation, just remain calm," you continue. "Pretend to curse that you have been handed a counterfeit and take your time searching for another note to pay him with. Then, claim that you have lost your passport or identity card and get the driver to take you to the nearest police station. Report the incident to the police when you are there. It is but a simple matter for the police to search the driver and find the marked note you used for payment earlier."
I nodded and started marking the second stack of notes.
Coming through the entrance of the gym, I caught sight of TJ on the decline bench doing crunches. I nudged you and pointed TJ out; we haven't bumped into TJ for a while.
TJ came into the changing room in a while.
"Finished your workout?" I asked casually.
"Ya," he replied smilingly.
As usual, I changed into my gym gear and headed to do my warm-up run while you made a detour to the toilet before heading to the cardio machine. I had done the second set of my third exercise when I saw you stepping onto the cardio machine. "That was a long time to spend in the toilet," I thought, lifting the dumbbells for the third set.
"I was chatting with TJ in the steam room just now," you told me later. "He has been going places."
"No wonder you took so long in the toilet," I answered.
"Seems he will be going out of town these coming weeks."
"That's all he talks about, his trips," I remarked.
"Yes, come to think of it, I have never conversed with him on any other topics but his trips."
For months and months, you've been working 7 days a week. Finally, you decided you needed a break. So on Thursday, we woke up at ten and lazed around till noon before making our way downstairs for brunch.
"What do you want to do today?" you asked.
"We could catch a movie with my Citibank rewards movie voucher, go shopping at Sim Lim Square or we could even go over to Johore," I suggested. Then looking at your overworked and haggard face, I added, "Or we could just stay home and watch TV."
"That sounds good," you agreed. "But I have a craving for laksa now."
You joined the queue at the Sungei Road Laksa stall while I picked a table and sat down. Soon you carried a tray with two bowls of laksa to the table. I thought the gravy was rather salty that day but without a pair chopsticks, I was forced to sip down some of the gravy in order to get at the noodle. You, on the other hand, were delighted to finally quench your craving and slurped at the gravy greedily.
Out of nowhere, a hand pushed 6 packets of tissue onto the table and a finger pointed to the one dollar change you obtained paying for the laksa.
Simultaneously, we both refused, telling the tissue lady to retrieve her packet tissues. This time, however, she was quite insistent and refused to move away until you told her that her tissue was unsuitable for our use several times.
"So apparently she has to work afternoons too," I said.
"She's getting desperate," you observed.
"Well, not desperate enough to stop smoking," I replied as the tissue lady lighted up another stick of cigarette.
Mom was elated because she had just found a new brand of sai-pia selling in the market.
"See," she said, pushing a carton to me. "They have not been sun-dried so they are very moist and succulent."
Mom wanted me to take some to you because she said you loved sai-pia too. I eyed the dried cakes of dark brown sweets with some disgust and replied reluctantly, "Okay, I'll take some over this weekend."
Later that evening, we had had dinner at the hawker centre near my house and were strolling around the market when I spotted the familiar dark brown cakes in the plastic carton.
"Your mother-in-law says you would like this," I told you pointing to the sai-pia.
"How much is it?" you asked.
"$1.50."
For the want of something to talk about, I told you about the marriage proposal I received on Fridae.
| Original Message ---------------- hi,nice to meet u.something need u help? im lesbian,29 yrs old ,not pr here,from china need marriage cause my parent wish.will u/gay freind can help me solve it?im seeking seriously & hope somebody can solution with me.any news/discssion pls reply me asap& leave any hotmail add /mobile num to easy programming,thanks.. email:***_******@hotmail.com |
| My Reply --------- Sorry, can't help you there. It's against my beliefs to use marriage as a convenient solution to any problem or financial gain. Call me a romantic, but I prefer to live in the idealism that marriage is a commitment made between two people who are in love. I hope you will be able to find some other solutions to your problems. |
Sis and her colleague had just decided not to attend a speed dating event.
"I'm too shy and my colleague doesn't want to put her handphone number on the form," she explained.
"I think it's very stressful. You are given a limited time to introduce yourself and chat briefly and then you have to swap partners." I had seen it being done in one episode of Sex And The City.
"Really? Sounds robotic, like conveyor belt sushi, except you are served men instead," she laughed.
I wondered if relationships that started on such an unnatural note could really work. After all, the era when people stay committed to arranged marriages was long gone. I felt it was better to meet men through normal day-to-day interactions and told sis so.
"Women worry because their biological clock only gives them that much time. If they are too passive, by the time they meet someone, they may have to commit immediately, having no time for dating," sis explained patiently, knowing fully well how clueless gay men can be about women's issues. "The only way is to have your eggs frozen, then you can take as long as you want to find that right guy."
"Or adopt."
"But you may want your kids to have your own genetic makeup."
We were silent for a while, being both absorbed in our own thoughts.
"I have had a new epiphany since I started teaching," I said breaking the silence. "You can't choose how your child turns out to be. I have some students I really wish I were their parent," I continued, thinking of the boy. "Then, there are the other students," I sighed.
Sis chuckled, agreeingly. "Perhaps we can have cocktail children in the future, like in Gattaca."
The torrential rain flooded the pedestrian walkway threatening to seep into my shoes. I stepped carefully over the grating trying to avoid the streams of rain water as they drained off the path. In front, a boy alighted from his mother's vehicle and rushed into the shelter of the covered walkway, the school bag on his shoulders bobbing up and down. I quickened my steps and finally caught up with him as he entered the school gate.
Turning around, the boy acknowledged me by flashing me a bright smile.
"No PE today I guess," I said, trying to make conversation.
"Definitely," the boy answered, obviously disappointed.
"Have you shown your parents your exam papers yet?" I asked, knowing he did quite badly for a few papers.
"Only those I did well in," he replied.
"What about the other papers?"
"Monday. If I show them today, they will ground me this weekend," he explained sheepishly.
We woke up to another hazy morning. From our window, a thick blanket lay over the shophouses and the commercial buildings, smothering the usual fresh morning air with a choking stench.
"The PSI must be over a hundred again," you said, standing by the window.
I flicked the TV remote on and read the news ticker at the bottom of the screen, "CNA says PSI reading is only 78."
"This doesn't look like 78 to me," you said. "Maybe they have to report a lower reading in case we panic."
"It does look as bad as last week," I observed, coming closer to the window to stand beside you for a while.
Our conspiracy theory disappeared into the haze almost as soon as it was conceived.
"What do you want for breakfast?" came your habitual query.
"I don't know. We decide at the hawker centre?" came my habitual answer.
We were crossing the road when a man cycled past carrying numerous empty plastic containers on his bike.
"I see him frequently. I think he goes out every night to collect water to bring home," you remarked.
Sure enough, I bumped into the water man last night as I was going down the stairs to meet you for dinner. There on the fifth floor corridor, his bike was loaded with the plastic containers that were now filled up with water. He seemed to have just taken a bath for his hair was limp with moisture and his shorts were wet. He grasped two of the containers by the handle and wobbled back to his unit leaving behind a trail of wet footprints.
"I think he has had his water supply cut off by PUB," you deduced.
"The outside of his unit is quite messy," I observed. "Piles of old newspaper, bamboo poles of laundry, a few old, rusty bicycles..."
"Maybe he is a karang guni man?" you suggested.
The haze is back. This time much worse than previous years and we can actually see a significant loss of visiblity.
"I don't smell the usual burning stench of the haze," you said.
"It's there. We can't smell it now because of the air conditioning in your car." After some thought, "Do you set your air conditioning to renew the air from the outside?"
"No, the air is recycled within the vehicle," you replied.
Later at your place, we forsook the 42" plasma in the hall for the 29" Trinitron in the bedroom because only the bedrooms have air conditioning. After a quick shower, I was munching grapes on the bed. You were looking out of the window.
"It's really bad. It smells awful and Suntec City is no longer visible."
"What will happen when the PSI level finally reaches very unhealthy levels?"
"Maybe we will all have to wear masks."
rezipping:
hi dear.you:
hi dear, so u just finish showerrezipping:
ya, just came outyou:
ok, have u finish with those marking and paper settingrezipping:
finish paper setting but still got markingyou:
okrezipping:
so are you free to take leave in dec?you:
dun know yet... any planrezipping:
jetstar to hk is about 98 each wayyou:
oh... that cheaprezipping:
ya, but have to find hotelyou:
that true and that is peak periodrezipping:
can't be helped mahyou:
ok, when must be confirm ?rezipping:
asap then can book mahyou:
err... i must check lohrezipping:
hotel is from 110 per night per room, wonder if hk got gay guesthouse or not?you:
how many day u intent to stayrezipping:
maybe 4 days in hk? is it too much? then maybe 2 days in shenzhen?you:
okrezipping:
about a week in all?you:
i check then let u knowrezipping:
okyou:
i going to bed liao, good niterezipping:
ok, gd nite
We met on his birthday 6 years ago.
I agreed to turn up at his birthday party even though I had already decided that he was not the one for me 6 months before. His lifestyle and attitude towards life were just too different from mine. For one thing, he smokes. But I guess one is blinded by such details when one is lonely. I was going through a difficult period in my life and he was convenient.
He was a good drinker but his friends managed to get him half-drunk by midnight. For some reasons that I cannot recall, everyone decided it was time to relocate the party to Niche, the gay pub on Pagoda Street*.
He knew the bartenders at Niche and got them to make a specially strong long island tea for me. I sipped my tea as I watched his friends teased him with more liquor. It was a Saturday night and the club was packed with 18 year olds jerking to the blaring music. In the dark, I saw him standing intimately close to a man who was seated atop some velvet-covered boxes by the bar counter. His arms were around the man and he looked like he was all over the man.
I knew then that I had been right to give him up 6 months ago because I felt more amusement than jealousy. I knew he was drunk "all-the-way" when he started behaving tartishly. I took my tea and went towards him to see just how drunk he was.
The man looked disinterested but did not try to push him away. Hands by the sides, the man remained uncomfortably motionless. I think the man was unattracted, yet at the same time flattered by the attention.
His hands, however, were all over the man, round the neck, round the waist.
The man looked at me as I walked by and I smiled.
Finally, he was too drunk to stay any longer. I helped him out of Niche only to have him stumbling towards the side of the club where he immediate bent over and puked into the drains. As I stood by him, I realised I was out of tissues. I left him there telling him I would try to get some serviettes from the pub.
In the dark, I bumped into the man he was caressing a few moments back. I asked if the man had any tissue and was given a pack of O'Darling 3-ply, the one with the anime girl's face printed on the packet.
"Thanks," I said.
"Take care of him," you replied.
----------------------------------------
*Niche Pub & Cafe on Pagoda Street has since closed down.
We:
I woke up with a string of red, itchy lumps down the back of my left hand, wrist and forearm. I don't know what could have possibly caused them and you don't remember seeing them the night before.
"Bedbugs!" you cried out over the phone some days later. "The bed is infested with bedbugs! I got up in the middle of the night to spray Baygon on the mattress."
"Baygon? Is there a special spray for bedbugs?"
"Baygon works. But there is a special spray, probabaly similar to the medicine to get rid of ticks in dogs."
The next weekend I realised you had removed the bedsheets and we would have to sleep directly on top of the mattress. There was a hint of insecticide in the air from the Baygon but it was bearable. Armed with a pair of tweezers and a can of Baygon, we examined the edges of the mattress and divan for any signs of the pest. I found a number which you quickly caught with your tweezer and squashed in a piece of tissue paper.
"There were quite a number on the right side of the bed," you said, matter-of-factly.
"My side?" My first response was to feel guilty that I might have been the medium that had introduced the bedbugs.
"Hey wait a minute," I retorted, after a while. "Do bedbugs avoid the light? Your side is nearer to the window so obviously they will want to hide on my side cause it's darker."
"Perhaps," you said.
We were at Da Lian this morning. We both ordered mee kia dry and were waiting for our orders to come, you sipping your kopi-si-kosong and me my teh-si.
I was wondering aloud why the tissue lady was nowhere in sight. You replied that perhaps it was because she was sleeping late. "I don't remember seeing her the last few times we were here," I said as our noodles were being served.
As I was eating the piece of tur kwa in my mee kia dry, out of the corner of my eyes, I saw that the tissue lady has arrived.
A great bag of packet tissues was slung on her left arm as she strode towards Da Lian. The rising fumes from the lighted cigarette in her right hand mirrored her mass of grey, unkempt swirling hair.
She threw a few packets of her wares on our table and pointed to the fifty cent coin beside your wallet, the change you obtained paying for our kopi-si-kosong and teh-si.
Simultaneously, we both refused, telling her to retrieve her packet tissues.
"Fifty cents would have been enough to buy a stick of cigarette," you said.
"Really?" As a non-smoker, this was new information to me. I had always thought that the cost was nearer to a dollar.
"If she buys one of the cheaper brands," you explained.
I met you for dinner at 10pm after you came back from the police station. One of your sales staff was involved in a money embezzlement case and you were tasked with the difficult job of reporting him.
You were parked by the side of the road. I sat in your car and listened as you spoke to the perpetrator's distraught wife on your handphone. It was a most unpleasant conversation.
I slipped my hands into yours and we held hands. I realised then that we haven't held hands for a long time. It still feels nice.
I guess we are very different people.
I have a B.Sc. (Hon) while you stopped school after sec 2. But sometimes, I am able to help you draft letters, emails or documents when you need.
Your network of friends and contacts is amazing while I hardly keep in touch with people from my previous jobs. But sometimes, you just need to pick up the phone and call a friend when I require services like air-con maintenance, bulk photocopying, electrical installations, discounted leather products, affordable computers and assessories.
I am a teacher while you are a sales manager. But at the end of the week, we will both sit on our black leather sofa and talk about our own work. I will tell you about my naughty students and the loads of marking I need to do and you will tell me about the strategies you have employed on your customers to get that deal and the difficult sales staff you have had to work with.
I am glad we are different. How else will we have so much to talk about?
Mom about her one of her customers, “The first time I saw him, I couldn’t decide if he was a man or a woman. He was dressed a man, but he was gentle and soft-spoken and you aren’t really sure. You can tell he was the thrifty type, but he was a good customer and never haggled over the price of the things he bought.
Then out of the blue, he informed us that he was getting married. He looked like he was in his late forties so we were quite surprised but we congratulated him of course. He then went on to share about how his fiancée was planning a high budget wedding and complained about how she was digging into his finances.
The next time I saw him, about three months later, he said he was no longer getting married. The excuse was that he was uncomfortable with the way his money was being spent.”
“He loves someone enough to want to marry her but gives her up because he doesn’t want to afford the wedding?” I was intrigued.
“Yes, he’s weird.” Mom replied.
“Perhaps he’s really gay and was pressurised into marriage by his family or church?” I suggested.
Mom looked thoughtful, “We will never know.”
Assuming my suggestion about the pastor was true, I told her I couldn’t imagine myself leading such a life of denial and self-rejection.
I suggested that we have breakfast at the Da Lian bak chor mee stall beneath the Workers' Party headquarters at Syed Alwi Road*. The noodle isn't spectacular, but it's a nice change and it's good to break routines once in a while.
Some habits are hard to break though. You had your usual kopi-si-kosong and I my teh-si.
An old woman sat down at the next table and wondered aloud what she wanted to eat. In hokkien, she complained that everything was sianz [uninteresting].
You said, "Guess life is like that sometimes."
I didn't say anything. I was too busy searching for the pieces of tur kwa in my bak chor mee.
----------------------------------------
* As ironic as it sounds, there IS a bak chor mee stall under the Workers' Party headquarters.
For the uninitiated, check out the mr brown show.
The typical consists of living apart for the entire work week. On friday nights, he picks me up together with all my marking load and we go to his place where I would stay for the weekend.
His current job requires him to be at the office seven days a week. I don't have to go back to school during the weekend, but then, I bring work back so technically I'm working a seven day week too.
Marking my students' work in his empty 3-room HDB flat can be rather lonely, but I am able to stay focused, usually completing what I set out to finish for the weekend. Sometimes, I think this arrangement helps me stay sane from the hectic life of a teacher in Singapore.
The atypical can be deceptively simple like a dinner on a Wednesday evening at the cheap steamboat buffet at Marina South. He loves it for the char siew while I target the live prawns and (when the live prawns have all been eaten) the frozen prawns.
Why is a HDB car park so full on a Friday night? Don't the residents go out?
"Haven't seen a new bruise the whole week," you announced as you finally backed into the only available parking slot.
"You sound disappointed."
Later at home, I could see that the old bruise on your right tricep has started to heal. The centre of the bruise has regained the usual healthy skin colour leaving a swirling ring of purple.
I am worried.
You woke up with 2 bruises the size of fifty cent coins, one on each arm. You don't remember what could have possibly caused them and I don't remember seeing them the night before.
You said, "I know someone who had such mysterious bruises before. It could be caused by some blood-related disease."
"Is it serious?"
"Fatal," you said.
"You should see a doctor tomorrow."
You said, "Let's wait and see if more of such bruises crop up."
Sis and I took mom to Castro.
Mom was noticably uncomfortable walking down Castro street after we told her that it was a gay district. She refused to acknowledged that same sex couples were holding hands freely. She grumbled when I bought souvenir rainbow flags with stands. She preferred to wait outside the boutiques while we shopped.
I was noticably more impatient with mom for I felt sad that she was still unaccepting of my being gay.
Then she asked if I had called you on the telephone since we left Singapore and I knew I had misunderstood her. For whatever reasons she was uncomfortable with Castro, it wasn't because I was gay.
Lunch and a movie?
UOB gives special discount to card members who dine at selected restaurants on their birthdays. We should take advantage of it.
Also, we have been planning to catch The Da Vinci Code since way before it was released but just never got around to doing it. Unfortunately, not many cinemas are still showing it. Good thing you are off tomorrow so we can catch it during one of the afternoon screenings at Golden Village.
We are still together.
For months and months, you've been working 7 days a week. I stay by you and try to be as understanding as I can. Though I yearn to go on a holiday with you, just a short one, or go shopping, or even spend a day doing nothing except to watch a dvd, I make no requests.
Then out of the blue, you tell me you are going on a fishing holiday with your buddy. You cannot imagine the disappointment I feel right now. I almost need to throw up...
