To tempt a saint

If you recall a guy named Mormon Gordon, one of my old best friends... well he asked me out for dinner tonight since he's back for a short vacation to finalize the plans for his wedding at the end of the month. It has been a while since I've seen him though we've spoken on the phone a few times so it should be great finally meeting up for a drink. Of course judging by his previous encounter with alcohol - and the subsequent manhandling thereafter, I think I'm gonna restrict his drinking to simple non-alcoholic fizzy drinks. Certainly no need to tempt the saint.

Nudged Gordon's dinner to a late dinner/early supper though since I'm still meeting Big Bicep Barry for some makan before that. With his propensity for ordering minute portions worthy of scrawny, bulimic supermodels - and raising a terrifyingly blighting eyebrow when I take my usual cholesterol-high, heart-unfriendly meals, I figure I won't eat all that much anyway :) When it comes to food - and men actually, I'm afraid to say that I'm actually partial to large, sinful portions of beef that would have Barry fainting to the ground after calculating the astronomical calories.

The poor man. Don't know why but I have this horrible recurrent images of tieing the brawny guy up and force-feeding him large pieces of meat dripping with oil.

Yes. I am a bad gay man.

With four weddings in the next two months, it's really amazing the number of friends I have who are getting married - or for that matter the number I know who are already married! When I think of some of the wild, crazy antics that we've been up to ( only half instigated by me... I swear! ) I boggle at the idea of them settling down in relative sobriety. Hell, it's starting to make me desperate - and jealous as hell, I'd have to admit. Though surely not as desperate as my relatives who are all too willing to throw me at the nearest single, nubile Vietnamese boat refugee.

Hell, what do I tell them? Surely no one's as ready to transfer to the state of Matrimony but how to tell them that I'd much prefer a taller, darker, hairier groom? :) Finding the groom isn't as easy as I thought it'd be - and a far more arduous task than I'd imagined with the suitors few and far between. My list of requirements surely isn't that difficult to fill :) A healthy, intelligent male with all his teeth and hair - who loves me.

Taking a leap

Suicide is always a dirty word in the hospital.

Everyone expects healthcare workers to provide medical care, sympathy and TLC to patients who attempt suicide and we all try our best but unfortunately the regular doses are usually coloured with a teensy pinch of resentment. I might not like it in my nurses - and even myself occasionally - but that tiny pinch is always there. we are all human and we all have flaws. The medical fraternity makes the occasional joke about life and death ( we need the dark humour to survive unfortunately ) - but deep inside, all of us carry an innate respect for life. Everyday we see patients, young and old, battling so very hard and desperately for their lives and the very idea that someone would just throw away this precious gift disgusts us.

There. I've said it. A bad person and certainly far from politically correct, I'm sure but I'm battling post-call fatigue so I hope to be forgiven :)

But it doesn't actually hit you till someone you know - or someone you know who knows someone else... takes a flying leap off the nearest building and forgets the bungee cord. Or takes a lethal injection of potassium chloride. Back in medical school, we have all heard the urban legend about the medical intern who took a torch to himself but it certainly isn't a laughing matter especially when doctors actually consitute a significant number in the figures. Yes, doctors do take their own lives and unsurprisingly anaesthetists and psychiatrists head the infamous list. A prevalent view is that both biologic and psychosocial factors play a role - and interact - in the decision to commit suicide. Since theoretically suicides amongst physicians would lead to almost certain death, I doubt we'll ever find the reasons why - short of a successful seance.

Makes you stop and think. What actually drives someone to give up on life?

Fetish for the psychotics

You guys all know my recent obsession with Desperate Housewives... which has actually aired its second season in the US recently. Guys over here in Malaysia are doomed to wait another year before it finally hits our shores.

Luckily nowadays we have the internet. Though I'm still not as proficient at downloading stuff as Wingman Will, I have my moments - and a helpful ex who helps me do so. Been watching a handful of the new episodes on his laptop - currently so engrossed you wouldn't believe - and I'm seriously liking the crazy boy who made history when he cried homo after being confronted by his anal-retentive mom, the supreme housewife Bree van Der Kamp. And by that, I mean Andrew van Der Kamp played by the sweet all-American Shawn Pyfrom.

I mean, he is so quietly devious... so chillingly evil... so creepily insane...

I just have to like him. What does that say about me? :)

Kisses

It must be the lil bit of Bailey's that I downed ( and the sappy Something To Talk About they're playing on tv right now ) but I have to admit that I do miss one thing about having a boyfriend. You'd be forgiven for having awfully prurient thoughts if you thought it was the mind-blowing sex.

And it is :) I am certainly not a saint and several months of enforced celibacy are slowly driving me crazy but that's not all that I'm missing. The sex is all good and it's always a fun way to while away a lazy Sunday morning but I miss the kisses. Seriously. So sentimentally mawkish but it's true unfortunately. Not sure why some gay men are not that interested in kissing but I certainly am. Not only the crazy, soul-devouring kisses in the night but also the simple pecks we shared in the early mornings before work. What can I say? I am an orally fixated guy.

Caught under the spotlight

I know I come across as a pretty confident guy. Well, at least I hope so :) At work I can rattle off a list of instructions perfectly without a single tremor in my voice - despite the nagging doubts in my head - playing the role of the suavely confident, competent physician.

Last night I realized how wrong I was. After last week's hedonistic pleasures ( I am sure Big Bicep Barry would count three cakes as hedonism ), I decided to cap it off with a final night out on the town and ended up at a quiant ristorante in the historical quarter of town. It served delicious pasta, cheap beer and a lovely Filipino man strumming the guitar on the side.

Met some of my friends and colleagues over there - my usual working posse - and I actually invited Barry to come along since he was actually in the neighbourhood ( cliched though that sounds ). And though I had a bit of a sniffle, I picked the table closest to the cool night breeze so that Barry's hard nipples would be better appreciated. :) I shall not regale you with the fact that I ate pasta and several chicken wings liberally splashed with sauce and Barry had a soursop drink and two wings but hell, I just did that, didn't I? :)

But what happened during the meal stunned me even more. Just as I was polishing off my final wing, the Filipino strummer waved over to Barry ( who actually turned out to be a regular at the dive ) and just called him up to the stage for a song. Instead of fainting from the shock of being called up, Barry just gave me a wink and a smile. Surprisingly ballsy ( surely an understatement... the man has bloody big brass cojones! ), the man just went straight up to the small stage, coolly picked up the mike and proceeded to give me a minor heart attack by belting out a jazzy Mandarin song.



Secret talents. Who knew he was secretly a karaoke heavenly king! Crispy fried chicken and chocolate sundaes scare him but obviously being shoved unprepared under the spotlight doesn't.

Of course you'd actually catch me dead hanging out under the spotlight with a mike in my hand - it would take a whole truckload of alcohol and a loaded gun to my head actually. The sheer embarassment. The possible humiliation. Honestly, I have too many issues with self-esteem to pick up that mike in public. What if someone throws a sangria in my face? What if the whole unadoring audience just picks up and leaves the establishmen? What if they toss me out of the bar for disturbing the peace with my off-tone warbling? Obviously Barry with his surprisingly mellow voice - and his biceps - would be able to ward off any would-be bouncers intent on kicking him out. Lacking the voice and the biceps, I'd be literally splattered on the sidewalk before I finished the first intro.

I speak in public often enough - all prepared with my lecture notes and my powerpoint presentation but impromptu speeches give me the heebie-jeebies. What more to sing in public?

Guess my hidden talents will forever remain between the shower head and me.