Anal Phase

Let's face it, straight boys can be so anal sometimes.

Really. After taking the initial steps of coming out to them, you'd expect insightful hard-hitting questions about coping with brutal intolerance in a heterosexual world or dealing with an unsupportive Asian family but instead what we usually get are impossibly frivolous interrogatives about our deviant sexual habits. Expecting to face Larry King, we get Jerry Springer instead.

Based on that seven second rule, I guess boys will be boys after all. :P


Got my back to the wall! Now tell me about the sex!
One of the first questions I get after coming out to them is the anal question. Although I'm sure anal intercourse isn't as common as commonly believed - for the curious straight boys, it's all about the sordid buttsex. Buggery might be a whispered taboo during schooldays but obviously it has remained lodged somewhere in distant collective memory of fears unknown.

Since anything remotely phallic approaching the sanctity of their tight sculpted asses strikes them as terrifyingly treacherous ( and vaguely sacrilegious! ), they simply cannot fathom how it can be something to be greatly desired for insatiable bottoms. Although the specifics are obvious enough, they don't seem to be able to restrain themselves from digging for the tawdry down-and-dirty details.

Just like those perverted voyeurs who peer to look at nasty traffic accidents. They fear what they might find but it still doesn't stop them from going to take a closer look :P

Straight Guy : So tell me.. what about the... uhh.. the sex?
Paul : Sex is sex.
Straight Guy : Well, you know! How, where, what - exactly which slot does item A fit in?
Paul : You need to ask?
Straight Guy : Doesn't it hurt?

Honestly, I'm no authority on homosexual sexual habits but the how and the where is simple enough after all. Apart from gross genetic mutations or violent stab-wound trauma, there aren't too many gaping slots in the human body.

But does it hurt? Do you really need to ask?

Try it with a cucumber and you tell me. :P

Poor Peter Parker

Clark has his Lois. Reed has his Sue. And yes, Peter has his MJ.


Maybe I should get someone new!
Or better known as the dazzling, effervescent, utterly fabulous original It girl Mary Jane Watson.

Or in the recent Spiderman trilogy of movies, what I call a paler, whitewashed doppelganger of Mary Jane played by a colourless Kirsten Dunst. Certainly didn't hit the jackpot there, tiger!

Not only does poor beleaguered superhero Peter Parker have to contend with a murdered uncle with a penchant for extremely cliched homespun phrases, homicidal best friends who want to bury the hatchet in his back and well-meaning mentors that turn wildly megalomaniacal on him, he now has this poor weepy, spineless redhead of a girlfriend in the movies - a far cry from the feisty, headstrong MJ we're used to in the graphic form. If life handed the real MJ lemons, our wily girl would have found a way to make lemonade - and also easily sold several buckets with her flashy redheaded charm while netting a commercial franchise for her lemony products.

She probably wouldn't have come crying to her boyfriend about her failing career problems ( most probbaly to do with her unkempt messy hair! ) especially when he has the freaking world to save.

Unfortunately MJ seems to have turned into a wishy-washy heroine during the movie rewrites. Rather than command the screen with her vivacious presence, Dunst's MJ barely makes a blip each time she appears, blending far too easily into the inonsequential background with her rapidly fading auburn curls sadly leeched of colour.

Even a little petty blackmail from a monstrous villain ( one of the many shattering experiences she should be easily inured to by now after being passed from one kidnapping attempt to another ) has her falling apart in seconds. Come on, what could be worse than involuntary bungee jumping from a skyscraper without a rope? Backstabbing ex-best friends should be a walk in the park.

Not that I expect MJ to wield a freaking katana blade to whittle down the bad boys but I'm sure she should do a little more than the stereotypical damsel in distress screeching endlessly for help while she dangles precipitously from a precarious height. At least she managed to land a cement block accurately on the villain in the latest installment of Spiderman :)

Yeah, poor Peter. Just lucky MJ didn't miss and accidentally drop the brick on his head. Come away with me, Peter baby and I'll show you a way better time on that web of yours. At least I won't scream that much.

Seriously, Spiderman can never catch a break. Crappy job, lousy pay, dump of an apartment, screaming girlfriend... all those burdens and when the man turns bad, he can't even get a decent hairstyle! Evil wicked aggression amplified by a monstrous-fanged alien symbiote is characterized by a floppy lackadaisical fringe?

And you know what the funniest part is? Bashful, methodical Peter Parker reminds me - or at least Tobey Maguire does - strongly of Charming Calvin. :) So you can imagine the filthy things I want to do to the man while strapped to the bed with some webbing.

Why is the Rum Gone?

Shiver me timbers. Where is the rum? Where has it gone?

*Hic*

Possibly because I drank it all. Or at least my ISO tried his best to.


Searching for rum
After all he claimed he needed some alcohol to lubricate his vocal cords after the enforced abstinence during our holiday trip the other day. Warned him after all that if he'd gotten all besotted in a foreign country that he couldn't depend on me to pull back his hair as he worshipped the ubiquitous porcelain god - since I'd probably be tempted to give him a revenge swirlie instead.

Whether rum, wine or beer, I don't drink that much - well not as much as my friend who takes a generous tipple every once in a while with his debauched clients. Not that my ISO ever gets smashed silly but poking fun has to be an ex-boyfriend's prerogative, right? Still it was mostly virtual liquor for me since I refused to partake in the festivities of wine, men and song while chatting online - although my ISO allowed himself to imbibe freely since he was lazing alone at home in his study.

It's nice to see him all silly for once - instead of me being the clumsy fool :P

My ISO : Come celebrate the end of the Prohibition!
Paul : It was only for three days, ye drunken bastard.
My ISO : Only one can of beer lah. Or was that a bottle?
Paul : Turn your webcam on and I'll confirm that, liar!
My ISO : *Hic* I swear! Only one bottle of beer on the wall.
Paul : So tell me what would you tell someone just coming out of the closet?
My ISO : Get a fancy doorstop just in case you want to go back in?
Paul : Funny.

Ever inquisitive, he quizzed me about the reason for ten minutes before giving it up in a fit of pique. Didn't see any need to out one friend to another so I discreetly kept Jaded Jeremy's name out of the conversation as best I could.

Just starting to grope his way out of the closet ( after 3 whole decades :O ), Jeremy's still relatively new at all this and wonders how to handle himself in this brave new world without being bitten by a rapacious gay shark or two. Surprisingly despite his suspiciously inebriated state, my ISO managed to brainstorm several intriguing ideas that I've started compiling into a brief email for my semi-outed friend.

Maybe he gets better with rum. :P

The One Where Everyone's Gay

Many times I've strived to put across the message that being homosexuality isn't infective. Being within a stone's throw of a raucuous gay bar doesn't automatically transfer twinkly pheromones that translate to a lifetime of hip-swaying, limp-wristed interior-decorating fabulousness - despite what the rabid conservatives might say.

Sometimes though I can be proven wrong :P

Not gonna bore you with another coming out tale again since I've regaled you about it here and here - though all of us with our feet caught in between the doors of the closet seem to be forever in the process of coming out.

Still I felt it was time to tell one of my oldest friends, Jaded Jeremy, who somehow managed to score himself a job in what has to be one of the most boring ( though reputedly lucrative! ) fields around - actuarial science. Now, I can imagine seriously dedicated actuaries everywhere lifting up their hands in protest showing me various supporting figures and statistics that prove beyond a doubt that their work is eminently fascinating. Beg to disagree though since Jeremy looks anything but enthused about his number-crunching job - honestly I thought the poor overworked guy closely resembled one of the cachexic living dead wraiths from a Nightmare Before Christmas.

Then again he does have a bunch of nightmarish professional exams ahead! Still he does look a bit like Victor Van Dort from Corpse Bride. Even on a holiday, our workaholic Jaded Jeremy was a bit hard to track down - caught up with his calculated risks and benefits, his neverending exams and an impending cold.


Pizza with a hint of homosexuality
After managing to get Jeremy away from his ever-present work into a seat for dinner - which he took with a world-weary sigh, I slammed him with my shocker of an admission with a quick pinch of pepperoni pizza to take away the bite. While he sat there stunned by my sudden admission, I took the opportunity to finish my salacious tale of my homosexual exploits while withholding some of the more sordid bits here and there. Instead of hurling out hefty chunks of pizza as I half-expected and dreaded, he sat there calmly without dramatic gay-panicky hysterics - though with an odd twitching of his eye - and claimed that he'd vaguely guessed.

That I'd finally placed that last piece of the enigmatic puzzle that was me. Note that I actually heaved a sigh of relief - though the generous folks of my generation seem more tolerant of deviant behaviour, you never can tell. Then again if he'd actually thrown a fuss, I - the bigger man - could have easily tossed him off the balcony.

Though he didn't put it quite that eloquently. Unlike many others before him though - Shameless Shalom amongst them, Jeremy didn't have an armed battery of questions ready to pelt me with despite the fact that I actually gave him time to digest the information - and the thin & crispy pizza I mentioned. Segued smoothly onto other topics with not a word said through dessert and even through our drinks at the lounge.

It was only later when I was making my way back that I got an instant message from him. Fortunately I was already sitting down when I read it.

I think I might be gay too.

Good God. It's as I feared, it's actually a freaking communicable disease! Now if only I could transmit it to Chris Evans!

Pick a Number

One of the best things about being the wicked half of a couple ( apart from the luxury of getting fat :P ) is the fact that I'm not actually required to troll around gay bars anymore in search of some booty.

Of course that doesn't mean I don't keep a curious eye out for cute guys. Nothing wrong with checking out the local merchandise, is there? Certainly doesn't mean I'm looking to buy :P

Then again, every once in a while you get a special unbeatable offer that you simply can't resist. Seriously what can you do when something delectable just falls providentially right into your lap - or the other way around? Trust me, one of the best ways to pick up guys is out in public. In a moving vehicle preferably.


Oopsie! I fell!
Naturally good-looking men like my ISO can depend on a sexy grin to gain a worshipful audience but the rest of us common folk have to resort to far more devious methods. Of course that all takes careful planning and perfectly choreographed pseudo-acrobatics - especially in a moving vehicle. Just when the train or bus buckles as it commonly does at every stop and you stumble clumsily, make sure there's a sexy stud close enough to fall onto. Clever boys with fast fingers can even ad-lib with a quick unintentional grope or two.

You'll have to make sure you don't have an ex-boyfriend standing close enough to pass judgement of course.

My ISO : What the hell was that?
Paul : Clumsy me. I fell.
My ISO : Conveniently into his lap?
Paul : So embarassing. Bad bus! Naughty bus!
My ISO : More like naughty you.
Paul : Naughty me found a place to have lunch.
My ISO : And is our friendly gentleman coming with us?
Paul : It was his idea, I swear. I'm just the clumsy tourist who can't read maps.

Of course nothing more would come from the accidental fall unless you have charm enough to talk the guy into having a quick meal as an apology.