Antiqueing

What can I say? I am a closet shopaholic. Once I cast away society's conventions on how a heterosexual man should act like, I also embraced my crazy shopaholic self, hidden deep behind the skeletons in the closet. On early evenings such as today, I toss my shirt and tie to the four winds, pick up my tees and shades, and start traipsing around like a crazy tourist in the historical quarter of town under the sweltering sun.

The antiqueing craze was actually triggered off by my recent purchase of a new place. What is a single gay man doing with such a big place? It's a question that is rife on everyone's minds, which I assume is one of the reasons the marriage issue cropped up. Well, it's almost six months since I've moved in so it isn't that new but there are still some rooms left to furnish and it's giving me a lot of pleasure doing so - although it's leaving quite a dent in my wallet. Since I've come to realize that antiques and dustcatchers are more my style than chic minimalist, it's fortunate that I'm smack dab in one of the oldest cities in the region. Antique shops, local arts and crafts shops - and also antique reproduction stores - abound in the historical quarter of Malacca where I search through dusty shelves for the perfect knick knack to place on the hallway console.

When he happens to be in town, my ISO tags along for my antique hunts for reasons better known to his dark, evil mind. I let him come along because
a) he's a better bargainer than me
b) he speaks more languages than me
c) he makes pretty eye-candy on my arm