Perhaps it's senility encroaching again but I'll admit it's not easy to tell the different ages apart anymore. Sure I can tell from an acne-ridden tween from a middle-aged fellow easily enough but in between those two very different variants, the lines can get a tad blurred.
Once or twice, I have misjudged someone's age and naturally assume they are much, much older than I am. Happened often enough that these days I even hesitate to mention the honorific 'Kak', or even worse 'Makcik', since I have been repeatedly proven wrong by the aging effects of disfiguring liver spots and wrinkles that unfortunately tend to put years of mileage on a face. Apparently the Sunscreen song doesn't lie.
It's the boys who tend to leave me a tad befuddled, especially those past their awkwardly gangly teenage years on the verge of virile manhood. Obviously a common sight at all local gyms; the likes of Grunt Graham; sexy tightly muscled fellows with enviable physiques ( and even more enviable small waists ) who all seem to enjoy hypermacho acts of fist bumping, high-fiving and general bro-ing all over the gym space.
To perv or not to perv, that is the question.
Hamlet certainly didn't have it this bad. Since despite what the homophobes frequently claim about us, very few of us would actually veer into dangerously pedophiliac territory. We prefer men all grown up in every way alright! Thankfully well past that treacherous age of consent, strapping college boys in neon-coloured tank tops and skimpy see-through shorts seem like fair game though.
After all, how could paltry schoolkids afford the extortionate price charged by the gym these days!
How wrong I was. So it was much to my horror when one of the supposed college boys whom I've generally taken as my sweet afternoon eye-candy strutted into the gym all dressed up in a secondary school uniform. Pristine white shirt and olive green slacks. As he raised his hand to offer his usual wave followed by the aggravating fist-bump, I found myself taken aback at the fact that here was genuine jail-bait.
Kid : Hey, how's things?
Paul : You're still in school?
Kid : Yeah, had extra curricular today so a little late.
Oh man. Sure he still looked really good with those sculpted biceps and that oh-damn sweet rounded bubble butt but now there also seemed to be a huge red neon warning sign blaring 'CHILD in capital letters right above his innocent lil head. I was about to draw the sign of the cross while screaming 'Lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from the evil one!'
Miss Grundy, I can't say I'd entirely blame you right now.
Well maybe a tad. He's still a child.
Once or twice, I have misjudged someone's age and naturally assume they are much, much older than I am. Happened often enough that these days I even hesitate to mention the honorific 'Kak', or even worse 'Makcik', since I have been repeatedly proven wrong by the aging effects of disfiguring liver spots and wrinkles that unfortunately tend to put years of mileage on a face. Apparently the Sunscreen song doesn't lie.
It's the boys who tend to leave me a tad befuddled, especially those past their awkwardly gangly teenage years on the verge of virile manhood. Obviously a common sight at all local gyms; the likes of Grunt Graham; sexy tightly muscled fellows with enviable physiques ( and even more enviable small waists ) who all seem to enjoy hypermacho acts of fist bumping, high-fiving and general bro-ing all over the gym space.
To perv or not to perv, that is the question.
 |
| How could anyone possibly keep their eyes off that? |
Hamlet certainly didn't have it this bad. Since despite what the homophobes frequently claim about us, very few of us would actually veer into dangerously pedophiliac territory. We prefer men all grown up in every way alright! Thankfully well past that treacherous age of consent, strapping college boys in neon-coloured tank tops and skimpy see-through shorts seem like fair game though.
After all, how could paltry schoolkids afford the extortionate price charged by the gym these days!
How wrong I was. So it was much to my horror when one of the supposed college boys whom I've generally taken as my sweet afternoon eye-candy strutted into the gym all dressed up in a secondary school uniform. Pristine white shirt and olive green slacks. As he raised his hand to offer his usual wave followed by the aggravating fist-bump, I found myself taken aback at the fact that here was genuine jail-bait.
Kid : Hey, how's things?
Paul : You're still in school?
Kid : Yeah, had extra curricular today so a little late.
Oh man. Sure he still looked really good with those sculpted biceps and that oh-damn sweet rounded bubble butt but now there also seemed to be a huge red neon warning sign blaring 'CHILD in capital letters right above his innocent lil head. I was about to draw the sign of the cross while screaming 'Lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from the evil one!'
Miss Grundy, I can't say I'd entirely blame you right now.
Well maybe a tad. He's still a child.
1 comment:
may not be as innocent as u thought. I've seen invitation for 3p from secondary school students. Still, better not land on the wrong side of the law.
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