Celebratory

There's a part of me - and a huge one at that - that thinks it absolutely crazy that in a few hours time, I'm turning thirty. Who would have thunk it?

Really, I'm surprised that I've even made it this far, considering the amount of times I've entertained the fantasy of dying before anyone else in my family. I realise that this is some borderline institutionalised crazy behaviour but part of me has always had this notion in the back of my mind. Perhaps it's a relic from years past of growing up in a dysfunctional family; not to mention dealing with a sexuality that was yet-to-be widely accepted, let alone spoken about.

But I digress.

Tonight, as I celebrate the last few hours of my 20s with a bottle of wine, some candlelight and my own solitary company, I can't help but feel happiness that I haven't previously felt before. I've made it. I'm well, I'm healthy and I feel fulfilled.

In spite of the fact that many I speak to - usually those of the younger generation - bemoan the death of my own "youth", I feel particularly excited about entering my "dirty thirties". I can sense the endless possibilities. And boy, will it be fun!

So here's to being formally considered an adult, to leaving the heady youth of the 20s and to welcoming the rockin' 30s that's about to unfold.

Happy birthday, me!

Anger Stage

I'm not going to preface this post except to say FUCK! That pretty much sums up at how upset I am from the email I received this morning.

I got an email from my editor who summarily told me that they no longer need my column. Seems I've been bumped off for more 'arts articles' space. I'm a little annoyed that it was so sudden - I didn't even get a chance to write a vale piece - but mostly, I'm feeling sad that after all this time - more than 40 issues and just short of two years - it's over. Just like that.

No warnings. No further explanations. No chance to say goodbye. I knew it was going to happen at some stage - I'm under no allusions as to my longevity of being a columnist for this magazine - but I didn't expect it to be so soon and in the way that it was done. Am I supposed to just accept it? I guess I have no choice. Besides, I don't want to make a big deal of it and surely I'll find a writing job elsewhere. But right now, I'm just pissed. FUCK!

I think it's pretty obvious that I've reached the Anger Stage.

Stock Non-Standard

As my Dirty Thirty approaches ever closer, I can’t help but look at my life and take stock. Especially when those I speak to inevitably remind that the 30s is the age when you’re truly considered to be an adult. No more of that cheerful irresponsibility the 20s afford, 30s is where you really get down to business. I’m afraid I fail.

For one, I’m still homeless. No place to call my own. My job barely pays for my weekly necessities let alone payments for mortgages or even rent. I have no real substantial asset, unless you count a credit card loaded with debt as something remotely redeemable. And I’m still single with only a history of failed relationships to keep my bedside warm.

But then I find myself having spontaneous cocktails with friends on a balmy Sunday evening, with no need to be anywhere else or a need to answer to anybody, and I realise my life is pretty good in spite of these failings, especially when recalling the marvellous weekend...

...comedy shows, festival discussions, art galleries, film screenings, radio shows, television production, lunches, banquets, birthdays, wines, beers, cocktails, cocktails, cocktails, friends, family and BFFs...

I may be considered a failure when measured by traditional yardsticks, but looking at my own, I realise that my stock isn't bad at all. I guess it's just different to most.

Man Tears

My sister is probably the only person in this world who comes closest to knowing the real me. In spite of the exceptional relationships I have with other family members as well as friends, there are parts of me they still haven't seen. My sister has, warts and all, and she still loves me for who I really am.

Which is why the last few days have been most miserable.

She and I had a fight, not a trite bickering or a silly argument but a real one where spittle flew and hurtful words were said. It was particularly terrible. And it was made even more painful by the fact that I didn't really want to be angry at her in the first place. I was just trying to protect her from herself after she and her husband had a fight themselves. I guess fiery tempers run in the family.

I would never dream of getting myself involved in any argument that my sister may have with her husband. After all, it's their business. But when she starts disappearing in haste, driving away angrily, without a single explanation as to where she might be going, I deeply worry. So when this exact thing happened again last weekend, instead of standing by the sidelines, I finally spoke up. It wasn't well received.

I was told to mind my own business. That it didn't concern me at all. That not everything was about me. That I should just fuck off.

We waged a silent war for almost a week. Neither acknowledged the other, let alone spoke. It hurt not to be able to talk to her or even look at her, but every time I tried, it just made me angry. As well as tempers, pride runs high.

In the end, my mum intervened and got the two of us in the same room. For a while, we didn't speak; just sat there in silence. Then she whispered something that made her burst into tears.

"Sorry."

I guess things have been hard for her, too. Of course they have! Why wouldn't it be? Anger has made me stupid and blind. She's been as miserable as I have been. And the thought that I made her feel that way, made me depressed. That's when the man tears came. Thick and fast, all that pent up anger disappeared and in its place came sadness and exhaustion. I cried so forcefully, it became hard to speak without my watery voice catching in my throat. In the end, I had to whisper.

We're good now; sorted our differences. She knows that I didn't want to be involved but had to do what I did; I was only looking after her. She knows that I didn't mean to say the things that I did; I was only reacting to her own painful words. And she knows that I still love her, just as she does me. After all, I'm still her brother and she's still the one person who knows me best.

Man tears are ugly but boy, they help.

Vincent & Ben

Writing for a magazine has taught me to be conscious of my intended audience and how to pitch the story without due bias or influence. I have learnt this from the numerous negative feedbacks I've received whenever I've been a little too opinionated about certain issues that some readers feel they have a better understanding of. One such topic is 'coming out'.

Below is the article I wrote with the help of two friends, a couple who have been together for a decade and yet are largely still in the closet. I've been careful when writing and editing this piece that I don't portray their 'choice' to be neither good nor bad. I'm hoping this will be published as a feature article for a future issue.

For now, you can read it in its entirety.

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Vincent*, 40, and Ben*, 45, are a couple who have been together for more than 10 years. Aside from a handful of people, both are still in the closet with their sexuality and relationship, even from their families. Vincent and Ben talk about forging and navigating the complexities of their special kind of relationship.

How did you meet?
Vincent: Ben was one of the support staff at a personal development course I took. The relationship developed as I began talking about my personal life; the past, the present and the future. Ben started sharing his stories with me too. There was such a relaxed and comfortable sense when being with each other: lots of laughter, good conversation, and a lightness that seemed “right”. Ben and I seemed like friends from long ago, yet we had only just met. I guess it’s that inner knowing that this relationship was meant to be. When the course ended, we kept in touch and started seeing each other on a regular basis.

Was it a conscious decision to “stay in the closet”?
Ben: I suppose it was not completely intended to be “in the closet”. But as time went on, it became harder to tell friends and colleagues since we had not been up front from the start. It seems to not be an issue for us with newer acquaintances and friends, and we enjoy the freedom experienced when with them. So the embarrassing side with older friends is not so much that “I am gay”, but rather, “I neglected to tell you I was gay all these years later after a seeming open/honest relationship”. I suppose I should just get over it! Concerning family, well, it’s awkward since they live in another country (I’m an immigrant here). And they have voiced their views openly. I just can’t be bothered with having to justify myself to them. They haven’t asked. If they did, I’m quite certain I would be honest.

How does this affect your relationship?
V: There were lots of lies involved. There was a time that we had to use different addresses even though we were already living together. There was also a time when I had to think of changing my superannuation beneficiary because my superannuation company did not recognise same sex relationships. Also sometimes I envy other couples who can show their affection towards each other publicly and without minding the people around them. These are challenges and complexities, but I think there is also a healthy side to our relationship as we give 100% focus to one another when we are alone.
B: I suppose the lies become difficult when trying to remember who knows and who doesn’t. Then there’s the possibility of being “found out” – though I’ll deal with it when it happens and probably be relieved. So you probably wonder, “why not just get it over with?” There’s a major block which needs counselling. Shame? Catholic guilt? I don’t know…

Do you think that those who aren’t supposed to know already do?
V: My mum thinks Ben is my best friend; an older brother! I don’t think she needs to know. But I do think that my sisters know already though we don’t talk about it. I think they are okay about it as they like Ben. As for Ben’s family, I only exist as his housemate; they don’t even know my name! I keep joking with Ben that I will have a big problem when he dies as I will have to explain to his family why I am crying at his wake and funeral!
B: Interesting that Vincent thinks I’m going to die first! Anyway, my family is on the other side of the world, and don’t seem too interested in my personal life. So it just doesn’t come up. A lot of friends just seem to know even if we don’t say it outright, and is seems okay. I’m not fussed one way or another. My work colleagues are different. Because I never mention much about my personal life, they assume I am straight, and after all these years, it seems awkward to have to “set them straight”.

What changes have you noticed in other people’s attitude towards your relationship and sexuality over the course of time?
V: Since only a handful knows, I haven’t really noticed “other people”. But I have noticed a change in our attitude towards our relationship. We are somehow freer and more relaxed as we start to have friends who know about our relationship. Before, we had a completely separate set of friends.
B: People who know us genuinely like us (what’s not to like?!), so I can not imagine they would think less of us. Well, I say that about the people I particularly care about, and the others who may have a problem, it’s their loss. I suppose it’s when it comes to family… That’s a hard one and I’m not sure what would happen. That’s sad, isn’t it?

What do you envisage in the future for you as a couple?
V: We are not planning to get married and not planning to have kids. Everything‘s fine. Just pay the mortgage. Maybe more holidays, including a cruise! But generally, just enjoy life.

*Names changed.

Over-Thinking

1/ I think I’m rundown. And my proof of this lies in the three ulcers that are currently pestering inside my mouth. Not to mention the patch of cold sore that has so glaringly appeared on my upper lip. I’m tired, moody and lack any semblance of energy. And I don’t know why. I’m eating well – salads, vegetables and plenty of fruit – and I’m not staying out as much as I used to. But it seems that my recent run of good health was very short lived. I’m looking forward to this year ending; in fact, I can’t wait for it to be over. I can’t ever recall having such terrible string of illnesses before, even during the year when I suffered through migraines and eventually had to have surgery for sinusitis. Even with hospitalisation and the after-surgery experiences, it hadn’t been such an ordeal as the one I’m now going through. Someone please tell me which god I should go offer a virgin sacrifice to?

2/ I think I’ve reached that stage where I can no longer consider myself as part of the youth. This dawned on me while I was at my brother’s Halloween Party when I completely felt out of place amongst his friends that were about 5 to 10 years younger than I am. In-jokes and familiarity aside, they all seemed to have their own way of speaking which I couldn’t quite grasp and their level of conversation seemed to be one that isn’t quite on my wavelength. I felt silly for being there – in spite of my gorgeous sexed-up winged costume – and aside from spending time with my sibling and a chance to dress up, I wondered why I attended in the first place.

3/ I think I need to change jobs soon. The place I’m working at now has become filled with passive in-fighting and bitchiness the likes that one might see exclusively in reality TV shows starring starving models and wannabe celebrities. Much of what we cultivated – the openness and close relationships – amongst staff seemed to have turned in on itself and everyone seems to have something terrible to say about someone else. I try to stay away from it all but inevitably some shit will fly and stick. Worse still is that the perpetrators for the undercurrent of negativity hovering over the place are colleagues I consider as close friends. Yet, I feel hesitant to say anything lest I cause more problems. The result hasn’t been good for my psyche as I feel that work has turned me into a vessel of indifference, in a sea of pessimism. If only I can use my middle finger as cannons.

4/ I think this weekend will be an opportunity for me to close chapters in my life I have left open-ended for too long. I’m attending the wedding of a high school friend, a gathering where much of the guests in attendance will be people I haven’t seen close to a decade. It’ll be a good reunion to see how everyone has moved on since high school days and to find out if people are much the same or much different to how they used to be. There’ll be one person in particular whom I’m anxious to see since we parted ways in the most acrimonious fashion where hurtful words were exchanged and a high school length’s worth of friendship were quickly broken. I’m hoping ten years is a long enough time for things to heal and for people to move on, but then again, sometimes it’s barely the beginning. Either way, I’m hoping for an ending.

And to think, I'll have this god-awful ugly cold sore on my lip.

Work Load

Have you ever masturbated in public?

I realise it’s a strange question to ask, not to mention incredibly personal, but I’m curious to know just how many of you guys out there are doing it. The reason I ask this is because of what had happened a few weeks ago at work. I walked in on a client rubbing one off in our gym change rooms. I guess he was whipping up a post-workout protein shake.

I don’t know who was more in shock; he, for the wank interrupted, or me, for the weird way I saw him pleasure himself. Two-handed, one palm opposite to the other, like he was wringing out a dish cloth. It was a strange technique I’ve never seen before. At least the boy was blessed with a two-fist full of manhood.

Speaking to a friend online, I asked him the same question. To my surprise, he admitted that he, too, has done it. And at work, no less.

Apparently, at times when he finds himself alone in the office late evenings, he points his dick over to the ‘Guys With iPhones’ website and go double-clicking. I’d hate to see the state of his mouse.

So, isn’t he worried about getting caught?

“No, not at all,” he says nonchalantly. “We’re only a small office and I can look down the hall to see if anyone is coming.” What, apart from him? He didn't laugh; I guess the joke went over.

So, why do it?

“Why not? After a stressful day at work, a guy needs some release. And this is the best kind I know of. Besides, it’s healthier than, say, drinking alcohol or smoking a joint.” He has a point. “Have you done it?”

Have I done it? No. Will I do it? Not sure.

Masturbation, in general, is something that I find uncomfortable admitting to doing. Not sure why exactly, I guess you can blame my Catholic upbringing; spilling seeds, brimstones and such. So, the thought of pulling off anywhere but the comforts of my own bedroom/bathroom/toilet/garage makes me feel less inclined for some self-sexy time.

So, am I missing out?

“It’s exciting,” continues my friend. “The thought of getting caught is part of the thrill. I’ve had some of my best orgasms right here at my desk.” Well, at least no one can say he doesn’t do anything in the office. But has he done it anywhere else?

“I tried but it wasn’t the same. I even got caught once. And she didn’t look impressed. You wouldn’t think a nun could swear like that.” A nun? I didn’t dare ask. “So, no. I’ll just stick to work.”

So, will you ever stop? Surely, this is something you can get fired from.

“It might be, but you know what, if masturbating in my office is wrong, I don’t ever want to be right.”

Right.