Where Have All The Slutboys Gone

Never could understand slut-shaming.

Till now I find it an awesome, highly complimentary word and if I weren't actively participating in a specifically monogamous partnership, I probably would have a tramp stamp with the perfectly calligraphed word Slut printed across my lower back. After all if all the parties involved are in the know, what's wrong with a gorgeous singleton making the rounds expressing love and desire in the best way he or she knows how?

Forget about even suggesting orgies to them!

But that's me. Lately, I find I'm in a tragically dwindling minority when it comes to sexual liberation. 

From Soho to No Ho. 

Whereas several years in the past, I used to have party gals like Piratin Patty and Fabulous Felix around who had little to no shame when it came to scandalously taboo topics - and even less when it came to expressing themselves, these days I keep bumping into straight-laced Miz Grundys who blush at the mere mention of the word. sex. Really, and I once had dear friends who'd barter trade a quick fuck for a ripe green pomelo.  

And I was the staidly conservative creature!

Not that I could ever bring up such a disreputable topic in our table talks these days! Lawd-a-mercy, what would people say!

Paul : Oh maybe you should ask him out. 

Grundy : Gracious no! How could I?

Paul : Just ask him out. 

Grundy : But I can't. 

Paul : You want me to do it for you? I'm sure he's up for a one-nighter too. 

Grundy : Oh wow. Don't say it so loud. 

Paul : No one's listening. 

Grundy : Anyway there's no sex before marriage. 

Which is all fine and good of course. 

Though I still gaped a little. In this day and age? Haven't we progressed passed that yet? 

Evidently folks here have gone back to the Little House on the Prairie. Our demure lil miss certainly isn't the only one though, even Diffident David has come across just a tad priggish when it comes to such salacious matters. To the people I know now, it's all about love, commitment, sharing similar interests and goals etc. Basically Mills & Boons without the scorching almost-sex on the beach. Some indecently shocking hand-holding at the very most. 

The doe-eyed romantic in me loves all that of course but there's also a pragmatic sexual beast in me. I mean, let's scratch all that, doesn't anyone just want a quick hard fuck anymore? There's a time for chaste hand-holding with momentary pecks on the lip but there are moments when there's the need for a no-holds-barred, no strings-attached orgy, no? 

Seriously, when did we exchange Samantha Jones for Jane the Virgin? 

Norms Away From Netherfield

Netherfield has been our abode for several years now and though the tenants have changed, the rules of the house have remained the same. Basically house rule no.1 - 'Don't Burn Down the House'. Other than that, most anything goes with the wildly easygoing denizens of Netherfield, namely me, Fabulous Felix and now Pretty Paisley. 

Previously Kool Kat tended to be a bit more maniacal when it came to household rules but after a few weeks of dealing with the rest of the more accomodating tenants here, even she started to mellow down. Also Felix tended not to listen by erecting a Shield of Obliviousness so she soon realized that her persistent naggings would be for naught. 

So Netherfield has always remained a bastion of no rules. 

Which is a far cry from the Draconian Domicile for Dogmatic Duennas several miles down the road.

Coincidentally a place where Sober Sophia and the rest of her teaching crew have decided to set up their budding household. Though we all gave her sufficient warning about the infinite perils of sharing an abode with your work colleagues - and your superiors, Sophia - ever the optimist - trusted in the sisterhood of women.

The ladies at the Domicile for Dogmatic Duennas

Within the short span of a week, the lecturing ladies have come to realize that their differing personalities and habits have ignited a growing friction - which has only become worse with them also spending all their hours of work together. With vastly disparate standards of cleanliness, even their fledgling roster of household chores had become an object of contention. 

Whereupon the ladies all decided to have a Meeting of minds.

To solve their ongoing household woes, they all decided to come up with rules. Or as they term it, norms. Make that Norms with a capital N since it was all duly notarized and signed by the witnesses to the meeting. 

Paul : That's a helluva lot of Norms. I think we had less rules back in school.
Sophia : We want it to be thorough.
Paul : And most of it's pretty common sense actually. 
Sophia : Oh? 
Paul : Like keeping the noise down in the morning. That's common courtesy, no? 

Sophia : Surprisingly not that common. 
Paul : Switching off the lights after use? 
Sophia : Also not that common. 
Paul : Wow. 
Sophia : Yeah. 
Paul : The rules are signed in blood I assume. 
Sophia : Yes. You haven't even seen our household accounts yet. 
Paul : Judging by the house rules, I assume it's counted down to the smallest cent, filed out in triplicate with independent auditors coming to check regularly? 
Sophia : Yes. 

Sounds more like a penitentiary than a domicile! And just today there was a small argument amongst the ladies over their laundry. I am starting to foresee a heinous murder-suicide somewhere in the near future at the Draconian Domicile for Dogmatic Duennas.

All I Want For Christmas

Well perhaps not me but apparently all Diffident David wants this year from Santa is a new toy. Don't worry, you'll be forgiven for thinking along the naive lines of a boy's snazzy technogadget plaything but it seems our fellow here wants something far more.... gratifying to say the least.

No simple cellphones or tablets for this fellow.

Dammit where's my Christmas Tenga!

Sympathizing with his perpetual self-enforced bachelorhood - and his recently avowed virginity pact, my friends here banded together to present him with a novelty hoping to placate some of his more libidinous urges. A boy has his needs after all - and since David refuses to participate in the mindless orgies about town, he abashedly received a plaything that would afford him endless prurient pleasure for as long as it lasts.

No, not a hunky submissive sex slave since I would have kept that for myself. No, not a dildo since he hasn't quite decided which end of the controversial top-bottom spectrum he's gonna land on yet - though we all have our compelling suspicions.

So David got a Tenga. For those who aren't in the know, a Tenga would be a revolutionary masturbatory toy for men; just imagine a corrugated sleeve made out of flexible elastomer with various adjustments to help achieve tremulous exhilaration. One of the taglines for their more popular product calls it the Joystick of Pleasure so you can just imagine what to do with it.

Me, I'm honestly happy enough with my trusty hand and a whole lot of wicked imagination.

Not so our Diffident David. For someone so desperately averse to the more raunchy side of our gay lives, he seems to have taken to the erotic wonders of Tenga almost instantaneously without reservation. Apparently our friend here revelled in the novel product with quite a lot of admirable gusto - and obviously very little diffidence - since it didn't take him long to entirely annihilate the ultimately fragile product.

Felix : I think we'll get him another Tenga for Christmas. 
Paul : Didn't you just get him one?
Felix : He broke it. 
Paul : Gosh. 
Felix : I know. 
Paul : How rough is this fellow! 
Felix : I know!
Paul : Does he use it ten times a day?
Felix : I know!

Far be it to wonder about a friend's masturbatory conduct but surely he must be shockingly aggressive to destroy the product in such a short period of time. Pounding sledgehammer much? Even I'll admit to being slightly perturbed at the thought!

So would that be naughty or nice? 

Unfriend You

Back in the heady desperate days of high school, it's hard to be alone without a close coterie of chums. Shallow though it may be but frequently high school popularity was erroneously measured by the number of friends you had listed on your cellphone, no matter how staunch or steadfast they may be.

Me, I always had my best buds who I could count on to go to the wall for me. The rest I relegated to mere acquaintances - and believe me, I drew the line quite clearly.

Doesn't seem to be true for everyone though.

Felix : Hi! Are you free? 
Paul : Somewhat yeah. 
Felix : Just found myself stranded somewhere. Could you give me a lift?
Paul : Where are you?
Felix : Oh after lunch, my friend left me in the middle of a highway to run some errands and I need a lift.
Paul : You just got abandoned by a so-called friend who left to run some errands?
Felix : Yes! Could you come pick me, pretty please?
Paul : What kinda errands? Saving the world from invading aliens? Delivering a life-saving vaccine to a dying mother?
Felix : Nah, he had to buy some vegetables.
Paul : WTF.

Yes, ditched by the side of the road for an insignificant errand. Even a mere one-night-stand would have been more courteous.

Felix : Dammit there really are no buses. Do I really have to sell myself for a ride? 

Me, I would have punched that so-called friend in the kisser. Then if he was lucky, I would have just unfriended him publicly. Really you can count that as lucky. Usually I would have hexed him, maimed him and burned down his house for good measure.

Do that to me and you're certainly no friend of mine.

And yet ever-ecstatic in his dizzying rainbow world of flying unicorns, candy floss and go-go boys, Fabulous Felix remains utterly unscathed by this sudden betrayal. Far from turning all vengeful demon, he seems to have so easily forgotten all about the perfidious desertion and whatever lame excuses had been summarily chucked at him as the car was leaving him behind in the dust.

Seriously, does he need a Smack of Sobriety from me?

The Pink Elephant

Like I once said, the hallmark of Fabulous Felix - especially in such a staid little town - is how shockingly fabulous he can be, even with the astonished stares of the disapproving locals. Swear when the boy speaks, little glittery handbags, flashy disco balls and several rainbow unicorns fall out.

Super stereotypically gay for sure.

Compared to him, even I can almost pass for one of the dull unexceptional regular joes in ironed khakis. Which I find refreshing since most of the closeted gay brethren here have so many irrationally homophobic hang-ups that it can get quite exhausting.

But even with the flashing neon sparklers on his head screaming G.A.Y., there are some of his more obtuse colleagues who still blithely ignore the obvious. Despite that giant pink elephant prancing around the room drinking pink daiquiris.

Mimi : You're still single, Felix? But you're so cute and eligible.
Felix : That I am! Yay me!
Mimi : Impossible! I must hook you up!
Felix : Definitely, send my number around. Make sure they're cute. 
Mimi : What kinda girl are you looking for? 
Felix : Girl?
Mimi : Yeah, I know lots of lovely single girls. 
Felix : So do I, honey. And I don't do any of the lovelies. Felix doesn't do girls. 
Mimi : You don't? Did someone hurt you in the past?
Felix : No, it's called being gay. 
Mimi : Happy? 

All that after oblivious Mimi took a brief tour around Felix's raunchy boudoir replete with exotic dildos, racy thongs and sticky gay porn mags.

Mimi : Like is that phallic object a piece of modern art?
Felix : It's a dildo.
Mimi : Umm.. is that like African art?

And amazingly ( or amusingly ) that's not the first time it has happened. Homosexuals must be a rare species indeed - despite what our paranoid government must think - if even slick city professionals can't even begin to guess. Obviously the purported gay guidelines don't work very well.

Dance of the Fireflies

There's only so much culture this little town can take - and what little there is to offer, Fabulous Felix and I intend to savour as much as possible, from the sporadic chamber orchestras to the rare dance performance like the one tonight.

Plainly there's no missing us in the sparse crowd - what with us both dressed up to the nines, quite frequently mistaken by the awestruck ushers as guest performance artistes. Suits and ties of course, what else could you possibly wear for an evening concert! Surely not the ever sloppy yet ubiquitous ratty tee and crappy shorts of the hoi polloi?

Despite the pleas of the organizer - a long suffering friend of ours - reminding us to dress down in the hopes of us blending in, we did nothing of the sort. Fortuitously it turns out since quite a sizeable number of the audience turned out to be unequivocally flagrantly gay.

Dancer : Wait, exactly what kinda dance do you intend me to do?
Paul : A strip tease.
Dancer : Then shouldn't I start removing some clothes?
Paul : Now that's the kinda performance I want to see. 

Including the prerequisite boys in tights, unabashedly stereotypical though that assurance may be. But how could we help it!

Felix : Gay? 
Paul : Undoubtedly. 
Felix : The one next to him? 
Paul : Definitely. 
Felix : Nice ass. 
Paul : All that leaping and jumping tones the ass.

Amused me to note that most of the co-ed schools involved actually had active dance clubs in school. Quite an eye-opener for a guy like me since we never ever had anything involving dance in my overly macho all-boys school. Music and drama we had aplenty but somehow never dance. Probably deemed just a tad too fey for the lads. Narrow-minded teen homophobia being quite rampant behind closed doors, I'm pretty sure most of the unfortunate fledgling members would have been severely battered after school hours.

So we never actually had a Billy Elliott in attendance.

On the other hand, at least I never had to sit through several performances with sophomoric girls frantically flipping fans in a dismal attempt to imitate budding blossoms. 

Just Like a Tattoo

Or even a piercing.

Since grunting cavemen started sketching out the intimate details of their mundane existences with crushed berries and coagulated blood, we have always wanted to leave our permanent mark to commemorate singular events in our personal histories. And where else would be better than something as portable, prominent and perceivable as our own skin.

Over here on the island of Borneo, it doesn't come as a surprise that tattoos are as common as every third brutish fellow you see on the streets. Tattoos are revered amongst the local natives here with each particular plant or animal design carrying a specific meaning and history such as the celebrated bunga terung inked onto many a virile shoulder here ( and yes, also on hunky Henry Golding below ). Ardent enthusiasts tell me the practice is particularly addictive and once they have crossed that line, there's an unspoken urge to memorialize the events in their lives with unique new designs.

Though amazingly beautiful and wonderfully intricate, I would still stop short of trying it out for myself. Squeamish for one thing, especially about the seemingly intolerable pain! Discomfort for another, especially with that culturally ingrained ( though largely erroneous ) suspicion that tattoos are purely meant for the delinquent elements.

Yo, like my tats? 

But more from the sheer discomfort over seeing tattoos on the elderly folk. Sure, the beautiful artwork inked onto smooth unblemished skin stretched taut over youthful muscles does look astounding. That's when everything's hanging high and tight. Now just imagine the effects of age with the wear and tear associated with it.

Not so nice really. Perhaps confined to the shoulders and the ankles since much less sagging occurs there.

So tattoos aren't really for me - which happens to be my thoughts when it comes to body piercings as well from the ubiquitous tongue to the uncommon nipple. Umm... really? Apart from anything else, raging infection anyone?

So imagine my surprise to be greeted by a shot of a penis this morning.

Felix : Nice? 
Paul : Is sending pornographic material a new way of greeting?
Felix : Note the difference.
Paul : You seriously got a piercing.
Felix : Yes.
Paul : Ouch. 
Felix : That's all you're gonna say?
Paul : Say hello to the metal detector?

Here I thought Felix wasn't as a fan of either tattoos or piercings. I was wrong.

Reliably informed that the rare piercing doesn't often trigger the metal detector so the little ornament should be safe. Or at least Felix hopes. 

Fags of a Feather

They do say that discretion is the better part of valour.

Certainly rings true when it comes to the budding homosexual hiding his shameful secret in the deep dark dimensions of the proverbial closet. Sometimes there really is not much room for boundless valour in the restrictive confines of our highly conservative society.

I don't look that obviously gay, do I? 

Which gives rise to an entire battalion of silent gay comrades in the verdant fields of Miri. All highly discreet. All shockingly macho. All surprisingly deep-voiced. All living in fear of the accidental unmasking. Makes a celebratory new year dinner with them fraught with incipient danger as the likelihood of inadvertent exposure increases with intimate association. Fags of a feather and all that.

Paul : Isn't red the prevailing theme for the dinner?
Friend :  That colour's just a bit too daring! Too shocking!
Paul : But gays love themes!
Friend : Don't say gay!
Paul : And red is great! You prefer to blend into the drab nondescript bleh surroundings? 

And that was only the beginning. Basically all the much-touted guidelines for gay men were taboo. V-necks had to be covered up. Speaking with air quotes was out. Hand-waving was a definite no-no.

And God forbid you speak in a high-pitched tenor.

Felix : OMG! That is super fabulous, girlfriend!
Friend : Shh. People might be looking.
Paul : And get my evil stare in return. 
Felix : They'd be frozen dead.
Friend : Just tone it down a little.

Since everyone else was trying their best to butch it up, for once Fabulous Felix and I felt like the gayest, most out advocates in the city. A peculiar feeling since we usually tend to blend into the unassuming crowd without our feather-laden, neon-tinted drag outfits. Contrary fellow that I am, I tend to become even more obviously stereotypically gay when specifically asked not to.

Discretion can be the better part of valour. But I'll admit it can be highly irritating as well. 

A Virgin Unspotted

In our increasingly fast-paced world, attention-deficit tweens out there need everything to happen almost instantaneously at their fingertips. Needs to happen yesterday as the slangtionary jargon goes. Not only are comprehensive blogs being relegated to pithy tweets with sentences perfunctorily sliced into abbreviated LOLs and TMIs, even television promos have been disconcertingly reduced to an abrupt three-second flash on the screen.

Hell, we need to get into the action so lightning-fast that even the sober wallflower protagonist loses her ertswhile virginity with an almost stranger barely five minutes into her admittedly awkward debut. Not to say that I wouldn't do the same for the hunky dreamboat she has on top of her but hey, shouldn't we take some things real slow?

So I'm quite pleased to know that one couple has decided to slow things down, almost to a deliberate crawl. Both time-wise - and modesty-wise.

As in back to the Edwardian age slow. With the rage over all things Edwardian these days, you could say that Fabulous Felix has found his very own Downton gentleman in the form of the scrupulous, sober squire Sawyer. Though you wouldn't be able to form such a contrasting conjecture from the exceedingly dashing way Sawyer dresses himself.

Rather than stumble into a torrid one-night-stand as certain impetuous gay men are wont to do, Squire Sawyer has pleaded for a chance to pace their budding relationship, something the more demanding Felix is a little doubtful of but still willing to address for Sawyer's sake. So they have committed themselves to a series of dates, thoroughly dignified assignations in a bid to know one another better.

Just short of a reproachful duenna.

Felix : The tea was absolutely lovely. 
Sawyer : Quite. Nice weather we're having today.  
Felix : A tad chilly though. Would you permit me to hold your hand? 
Sawyer : Surely no one would presume to judge us if the action was solely to keep my hands warm. 
Felix : Quite above reproach I assure you!

{ Felix takes Sawyer's hands in his }

Felix : Why your hands are freezing!
Sawyer : Quite.
Felix : Isn't this just wonderful?
Sawyer : Wait I- I think it's a little too much. So awfully fast of me! Could you give me back my hands?
Felix : Really, my dear? They feel so lovely in mine.
Sawyer : But what would the neighbours think! 

Ooh saucy.

Everything above board with those two I assure you.

Perhaps a quick tumble, my dear?

In fact, if Calvin and I were to play the roles of Matthew and Lady Mary, I guess Felix and Sawyer would be Branson and Lady Sybil brought to life. Yes, the socialist chauffeur and the suffragette socialite who braved the gaping chasm of social class and status just to share a simple embrace. After almost five years. Talk about a slow-burn love affair.

Though I have to say I can't tell exactly who's playing either part. Doubt either could carry the role of a virgin unspotted. :)

Simple dating. When was the last time you heard that happening?

Love is ( Sometimes ) Blind

Basically Fabulous Felix is one of those earnest happy-go-lucky fellows who allows otherwise painfully stinging insults to just roll off his back. Or perhaps slide off his Shield of Obliviousness, whichever way you put it.
Unlike me - I'm far less forgiving - I'd probably viciously gut that fellow with a carving knife or my tongue, whichever was closest at hand.

But even relatively serene fellows like Felix do have sore spots.

Especially when it comes to our spoken language. Like me, he's primarily an English-educated Chinaman who struggles with a little bit of Mandarin / Cantonese on the side. Which makes him the easy target of smug Chinese-educated scholars who insist on speaking only in pure Mandarin or Cantonese without exception while constantly poking fun at those who try.

Fabulous Felix is someone who tries - and had his admirable attempts shot down by just one of these pompous fellows. Something that he uncharacteristically never forgave, gaining his perpetual enmity. Till now he hardly mentions the reviled name without a faint sneer creeping across his usually placid face.

Turns out it's just unfortunate that the fellow wasn't someone he had a crush on. Since it basically changes everything.

Paul : So you stopped talking to this dearest enemy because he made fun of your Chinese?
Felix : Yes. Idiot.
Paul : You do know Silas did that to you twice last night? And probably another dozen times before to everyone else?
Felix : That's different!
Paul : How is that different?
Felix : It just is!
Paul : Just because you like him?
Felix : Umm...
Paul : You do know he loves to put down people?
Felix : Umm... did he?

Hate it in others and yet you find it tolerable in someone you love? Wouldn't that be the textbook definition of love is blind?

Damn, I'm almost perfect!

Yet love isn't actually blind. Call it temporarily sight-impaired instead. Entranced by their soul-consuming crushes, these lovers just choose not to see all the faults and weaknesses readily displayed in front of them. Further compounded with those rose-tinted glasses! Only much later when their senses finally return, do the warts start appearing one after the other.

Though he might deny it, Felix does have a fatal tendency to place his adored ones on a pedestal to be worshipped, blithely ignoring any flaw or imperfection. Me, I'm forever looking for the inevitable feet of clay. Wonder which is worse!

Gotta Have It

Gotta say I've pretty much given up on chasing technology - lamentable techno-himbo status notwithstanding.

Just imagine less than two decades ago, a touch-screen tablet would have been something wondrous right out of Star Trek itself! And these days, we even have handsy toddlers playing with the latest iPads.

Well I'm done with this. Time for a new toy!

Phew! Other than secretly inventing the latest wondrous contrivance yourself - and hiding it, is there any practical way to outrun the rapidly evolving high-tech world? New contraptions and appliances come our way almost every quarter. Barely a week after purchasing what could be termed the latest technological gadget fresh from the store, you can be pretty sure some obscure high-tech factory in China is already busy churning out the bits and bytes of the next awesome generation. These days, the Ver 2.0 or even 3.0 of almost everything seems to pop up on the market almost instantaneously.

Obviously a boon for our increasingly frenzied generation of rabid consumers. Just look at the familiar queues patiently waiting in line outside retail stores for the first crack at the latest tech-gizmo, whether cellphones, tablets or software. Some fanatical enthusiasts even resort to camping outside just to be the first in line.

Felix : OMG the new one is out! I must get it.
Paul : Even though nothing much has changed? 
Felix : It is newer. 
Paul : So what will happen to your old one?
Felix : Nothing.
Paul : You'd chuck it?
Felix : Yeah. Like you should chuck yours. 
Paul : Even though it's still functioning perfectly? 
Felix : Yes, trade it in for something new and better!
Paul : And shinier of course. 
Felix : Of course.
Paul : It's not a necessity.
Felix : But it's so pretty!


Toys for the big boys and all that.... they just gotta have it. And Felix isn't the only one. If Charming Calvin didn't have his avaricious hands tied with financial constraint, no doubt he'd be out purchasing the latest models as well.

But seriously, what a waste of money and resources. Dumping the old geezer into some dusty forgotten corner the moment the new edition arrives at the doorstep? Exactly what happens to all the abandoned gizmos and gadgets?

Selective Blind Spot

Remember when I once said Fabulous Felix has a Shield of Obliviousness to deal with unpleasant situations? Turns out that isn't the only weapon in his extensive armoury.

Perhaps more of an extension of his obliviousness since he also has the oddly misogynistic power of the Blind Spot. Never so blindingly obvious till the other day when a hottie came up to the gym counter with fan girls in tow.

Felix : Wow the boy is cute.
Paul : Yes, he is. Though I am wondering what he's doing!
Felix : Muay Thai class? Certainly has the legs for it.
Paul : With the gaggle of little girls around him? They can't be more than sixteen. Wow! Those girls are so Kick-Ass!
Felix : What little girls?
Paul : The girls he came with.
Felix : He came with girls?
Paul : There were four girls surrounding him.
Felix : OMG, there was?!
Paul : This explains a lot about you.

Has to be the equivalent of straight guys ignoring everything else when a pretty girl walks by. Been stuck in that particular situation often enough as a high school boy when all my horny heterosexual classmates would practically swivel around 180 degrees and crane their necks just to drool over a girl sauntering by in six-inch heels several hundred feet away.

No doubt Felix would miss it but there's a rose amongst the thorns! I'm partial to the boys myself but I wouldn't miss her!

Don't get me wrong, I notice hot guys plenty. Nothing like a tight pair of curvaceous male ass in a skinny pair of jeans to instantly pull my lustful gaze. But I certainly don't stop and stare unabashedly till I am utterly oblivious to everything else around that gorgeous ass.







Yes, I'd drool. But I'd still keep an eye on my laundry.

Four Days to Take-off

Unsurprisingly boys don't have as much hang-ups when it comes to sex.

Barring the spectre of sexually transmitted diseases, boys don't usually have to deal with the burgeoning aftermath of a sloppy one-night-stand for the next nine months. Easy enough to have thoughtless hook-ups when you don't have to deal with that kinda responsibility afterwards.

So you can imagine two horny gay boys with little or no hang-ups when it comes to sex. No, anonymous one-night-stands aren't exactly uncommon in our world.

Stereotypical depictions of homosexuality would have the boys tearing their clothes off even before they can reach for a condom. Not true however since gay sex - which includes anal penetration, possibly the hallmark of gay sex - necessitates some amount of preparation prior to the act. Protection, lube, perhaps the occasional enema. Without the proper prep, just an invading finger followed by a hasty fuck would produce some truly undesirable results.


Prelude to a kiss?
Of course then we have some boys who take special precautions while preparing for the event.

Felix : Well, he can't make it today.
Paul : Fuck-buddy too busy for anonymous no-strings-attached sex?
Felix : Says he can only meet up four days from now. He needs time to prepare.
Paul : Prepare for four days? Is he into some kinda wild kink?
Felix : He wants to save himself till then.
Paul : Save it? Like a fixed deposit?
Felix : Yeah, he wants to save up sperm for four days. Abstinence till then.
Paul : For the performance of a lifetime? Is he planning a gushing Vesuvius?
Felix : Obviously.
Paul : Well hello Pompeii.

Apart from porn stars prepping for their spurting debut, it's the first time I've heard of someone saving up for four days.

Turns out his fuck-buddy refrains from any and all sexual activity, which includes the occasional wank, prior to the much-anticipated tryst just to guarantee optimum performance. So why four days? Damned if I know. Perhaps the anonymous fellow has made his own personal study comparing volume and consistency of semen to days of abstinence.

Probably hoping to impress the judges with his... effusiveness.

Me, I have no preference. Whether a spurt or a dribble, does it matter?

Sex Barter

Lucky the boys these days.

Even horny fellas this far away from the civilized gay meccas find it easy enough to hook up with the immediate accessibility of Grindr ( and various other internet sites ) only a quick finger stroke away. Technology coupled with the availability of the internet everywhere has made the arduous search for one-night-stands almost effortless.

Sometimes one click is all it takes.

Obviously our randy Fabulous Felix has been eager enough to join in all the orgiastic fun. Although we have declared Netherfield off-limits to his amatory adventures - who knows if there are psycho axe-murderers around these parts - that hasn't stopped him from seeking pleasurable pursuits in other more questionable venues.

Kinda like the infamous roaming Toyota Alphards that cruise around pimping out nubile working girls.


Alright, now who do I have to fuck around here for a pomelo?
Except Felix is gay.

And Felix doesn't accept payment in the form of monetary rewards from his partners. Nothing so crass! Shockingly egalitarian, our accomodating fellow prefers the ancient method of barter exchange instead.

Paul : Is that a pomelo?
Felix : Yes, he handed me a pomelo as I walked out the door.
Paul : A pomelo as payment for services rendered?
Felix : Umm... possibly.
Paul : Not bad. Aim for a durian next, yeah?

Give a fruit to get a fruit.

At least he's well appreciated. Surely Felix must have done something right in bed to deserve the pomelo! Wonder what would earn him a fruit basket.

You Had Me At Hello

Or at least 'You had me at barbecued meat' for Fabulous Felix.

Ever since I've known him, I've frequently marveled ( and secretly envied ) at the light-speed that he falls after a lovey-dovey meetcute. Just one look is enough for Felix to fall heads-over-heels in love/lust.

Felix : I'm in love!
Paul : You barely met the fellow!
Felix : But his voice!
Paul : Made you fall for him? Is he a seductive siren on the rocks wailing away?
Felix : Oh yes he is! So sweet! So handsome! So nice! And he gave me barbecued meat!
Paul : A gift that obviously represents his heart?
Felix : And it's black pepper!
Paul : How zesty!

I half expect to hear an entire host of angels singing in the background when they first met! And possibly the two of them later sharing bites of barbecued meat in the style of the Lady and the Tramp.


Love at first sight?
Somehow though I have never really believed in love at first sight. Never have, probably never will. Sure I find the starry-eyed concept terribly romantic in trashy paperbacks - and yes, I do swoon over the mushy scenes - but I don't see how any such quickie affair could possibly weather the painful hardships of a long-term relationship. After all surely our judgement at the first meet, with our mental faculties already moonstruck, would be terribly impaired! All those overpowering pheromones!

My heart might go pitter-patter over a handsome face but my head still keeps a pretty good rein over my actions. Already knew my ISO for a long while before I even realized that I had feelings that ran deeper than just a platonic friendship.

And for Charming Calvin? Was it love at first sight? I doubt it was for the both of us. Although I'll readily admit the first gift he gave me did cause my heart to skip a beat. Just a simple beige and brown striped tie. Yet it makes me smile. Even now.

You had me at hello? Well, not really. Maybe several dates down the line with a hello again.

Pretty in Pink

It was pretty, pink and covered in brown warts ( genitalia or otherwise ). And all the boys who saw it wanted a bite.

Short of having it come in a phallic shape with delicious cream filling, I simply couldn't imagine a more fitting birthday cake for Fabulous Felix. Celebrating another significant milestone in his life - all in his own inimitable way.


Queen Mary!
Which I reluctantly admire. After all Felix is just so very unashamedly gay, kinda like a rainbow-flag waving, disco-dancing Queen Mary floating in a tub of lube to paraphrase, without any of the internalized homophobia, irritating neuroses and freakish hang-ups that characterize some of us. Recently disengaged from a bad romance, Felix has been on the rebound... again. And again.

And again.

Yeah, I would say he has been... making the rounds.

Paul : You having dinner?
Felix : Nah, meeting someone.
Paul : Didn't you just come back from an afternoon delight?
Felix : Isn't it time for a bit of dessert?
Paul : Would this count as overeating?

Just as long as he doesn't bring home a serial killer. We all have our own ways of dealing.

I really can't blame him. Reminds of the brief halcyon summer I had after my first break-up. Of course back then without the shocking immediacy of Grindr ( where a quick fuck is just a simple click away ), we had to send emails back and forth for quite a while with the veiled pretense of getting to know one another. Damn!

Double, Double Toil and Trouble

SCENE I. A kitchen. In the middle, a boiling pot.

Thunder. Enter the three Witches

First Witch
Thrice the weeping boy hath mew'd.

Second Witch
Thrice and once the weeping boy whined.

Third Witch
My psychic powers say 'Tis time, 'tis time.

First Witch
Round about the boiling pot we go;
In the poison'd entrails throw.
Toad, that under cold stone
Days and nights has thirty-one
Swelter'd venom sleeping got,
Boil thou first i' the charmed pot.

ALL
Double, double toil and trouble;
Fire burn, and cauldron bubble.


The witches three?
They say it takes time for a broken heart to heal. I could only wish there was an instant cure.

Till then however Kool Kat has taken to boiling soothing porridge with frog's legs. Claims the frogs would act as a panacea. Served best with the occasional hug in the kitchen. We all have our separate roles to play after all. Piratin Patty acts as the sounding board while teaching him all the intrinsic healing magic of Big Fish Small Fish Cardboard Box.

While I hold the unforgivable Slap of Shame card. Simple enough. Tears are to be confined to a one-week period after which slaps will be administered. Haven't had reason to use it yet though.

Fortunately Fabulous Felix will have none of it so he has asked for a new project to play with. The better to get his mind off things. Hence the Santa project. Nothing like buying gifts galore for his nearest and dearest. And to fill up our Christmas tree.