Wholly Enchanting

Have you ever felt the irrepressible need to burst into song at various intervals?

Have you ever felt the irresistible urge to converse with friendly woodland creatures?

Have you ever felt like making gowns out of patterned curtains?

Fear not, ( possibly gay ) boys and girls! You're not alone out there, in fact you're in pretty good company. Snow White has done it. Aurora has done it. Ariel has done it. And yes, Giselle ( the almost princess ) has done it too.

Though after stumbling through a magical portal ( with the help of a wicked old hag stepmother ) from her enchanted land of Andalasia to the much grittier environs of downtown New York, our poor Giselle might find it a little more taxing getting the grumpy animals here to cooperate in the real world where there's never really a happily-ever-after. Not to worry though since in true magical Disney fashion, she's given a helping hand by a handsome prince in this hilarious parody of the entire fairy tale oeuvre. Get ready to be Enchanted.


Prince McDreamy?
In modern-day bourgeouis America days though, a prince turns out to be a high-powered Manhattan divorce lawyer played by the suitably mcdreamy Patrick Dempsey. A tad cynical with life as a struggling widower with chubby child in tow, he isn't all that pleased to find a real life princess ( and her accompanying entourage of cheery forest creatures ) falling heedlessly into his lap. Like him though, I wouldn't have been amused to find my bathtub being zealously scoured by a legion of cockroaches - or my matching curtains being chopped to pieces for instant couture.

Giselle : I made a new dress!
Paul : You fucked up my curtains! You singlehandedly destroyed the interior decor statement I was trying to make! For that you have to die!
Giselle : Help me, my forest creatures! La la la la...
Paul : They can't hear you singing. The rabbits and magpies are roasting in the oven for dinner! I intend to serve them with parsley.
Giselle : Oh no! No!
Paul : Have a last supper. Satisfy yourself with this shiny red apple.
Giselle : Thanks. I was feeling a little hungry. Mmm.. it's delicious and... *Ack* *Ack*
Paul : And it's poisoned. *Cackles* Now Robert is mine!

Fortunately I'm not the prince in this story.

He finds himself reluctantly charmed by the perky Giselle's inexplicable ability to draw in the hapless crowd to sing and dance with her in Central Park ( along with the passing mariachi singers and Jamaican crooners ). Even elderly geriatrics find themselves rejuvenated and dropping their walkers to twist and shout.



Still it's McDreamy! So despite the fact that I'm still staunchly against twiddling my thumbs waiting for princes charming, I gotta admit I wouldn't have minded getting swept off my feet by him! I mean, wealthy lawyer with fabulous apartment ( well after the animal / insect co-op rushed over for a hectic spring cleaning ), perfect hair and the most amazing overcoat! Not to mention that better-than-fairy-godmother emergency - possibly limitless - credit card. Hell, I'm almost tempted to rush the stage and spontaneously deliver a romantic ballad.

Of course Zany Zinedine beat me to it :)

No worries though since there's always Jon McLaughlin to help me get through the disappointment ( he plays the singer in the orchestra at the end of the show ). How's that for super-keen eyesight? Yes, I'm gifted with the ability to spot a good-looking man a mile away.

You Talkin to Me?

Do I look like a regular A&F gymbot?

No, don't answer that. Ya ain't never seen me in real life so it's hard to tell but surely you've heard of my uncanny resemblance to the grubby hobbits of Tolkien fame? Look closely in the Shire and you just might catch me in a rare unprecedented cameo. Trust me, this isn't misplaced modesty speaking! Don't deal in that. Lemme reiterate, if I looked that good ( hell I'd know! ) you'd have me flexing my shiny muscles on youtube on a daily basis and the likelihood of ripped muscle tees in my closet would rise 1000%.


Seriously! You really think I'm Paul?
So how did two different girls on separate occasions mistake me for an Abercrombie clone?

The first one's Shameless Shalom - and her question this morning was innocuous enough. Ever the innocent, Shalom just wanted to know whether I've frequented the nearby gyms and wanted an urgent referral. With the evil monster exams vanquished, seems like someone's aiming for a pair of skyscraper stilettos and a slinky tie-dyed sarong in a size 4.

Shalom : So which one should I join?
Paul : Well if you're asking which gym has the hottest boys, I can tell ya that.
Shalom : No!
Paul : How about the one where boys have a little fun in the sauna?
Shalom : Like they're gonna ask me to join!

Now that's the simple part. Second one's a bit suspect though. You see it's from a relative newcomer to the area, Lissome Lorelei. Energy, effervescence and enthusiasm to the extreme. Simply exhausting too :P Not sure exactly how she cottoned on to the fact that I was the man to ask if you're looking for fitness first!

Lorelei : Well, tell me which gym I should join?
Paul : Huh? You're asking me what?
Lorelei : Well, a little bird - well make that two birds - they know all about you and they tell me you're the man to ask?
Paul : Was that my twin you're talking about? An alternate gym-going twin cause that certainly ain't me!

Sure, I'm far from crazy closeted at work ( after all more than a few have pieced together the pink clues ) so perhaps she hit on the token homo to point her in the right direction. For a newbie, what easier way to find a gym in town than to activate the gay-dar?

Still it doesn't explain the birds in the bush. Hell, it's got me scratching my head wondering which little bird she's talking about.

Sweet Schmaltzy Sentimentality

Hands up those who haven't had a tiff with their significant other over PDAs!

And by that, I don't mean digital assistants, blackberrys and other technological paraphernalia. Talking about Public Displays of Affection. Oddly enough Charming Calvin who seems to be out to everyone ( and his mother ) in the world seems a lil shy when it comes to PDAs.

Though these days with the morality police ruthlessly raiding every nook and cranny for the smallest signs of indecency ( or what they perceive in their self-righteousness as indecency ), a little prudence might be a worthwhile virtue to cultivate.

Of course there are brave couples who aren't afraid to flaunt their colours for all to see - although few would dare push the boundaries by having wild passionate full frontal embraces in public. In our conservative country, not only would it garner utter revulsion from the astonished masses but the occasional brickbat ( or molotov cocktail ) just might come flying! Being quite a fuddy-duddy myself, I'm not sure I condone tonsil hockey ( even amongst the breeder brethren ) in public either. I mean, fucking get a room please.

Yes, I'm quite the stone-cold pragmatist occasionally.


Seriously! They really DO exist!
Then there is this sweet couple I know who aren't afraid of a lil PDA - and certainly enjoy the full dose of saccharine sweetness in their budding romance. Demonstrative displays and mushy cornball pledges seem to be their thing. Naming no names though I think they already know who I'm talking about! Here's an example of their daily effusive ( cloying! ) exchange.

Alanis : Darling sweetie cutie-pie, are you there?
Jenny : Honeybuns my love. *kiss kiss* Have you taken your lunch?
Alanis : I miss you, my jenni hunny. It's been ... ten minutes since we spoke over the phone.
Jenny : I can't eat a bite without you by my side! *mwak mwak* How can I live without you? You're the very air that I breathe!
Alanis : OMG That's the fourth line from the very same aria I composed for you yesterday!

Okay. Maybe I exaggerate. But not by much!

Then twenty minutes later, they start all over again with the sappy lovey-dovey promises. In which time one of them is busy holding my hair back while I hurl the contents of my upended lunch into the commode. There's only so much schmaltz an evil person like me can handle in a day.

Am I jealous? Not really. I'm actually far more intrigued. Try my best to look politely away when they're going at it full throttle ( enough sugar to drown a diabetic spilling everywhere! ) but I simply can't! Alanisjenny ( Alny? Jelanis? ) are just like that spectacularly gory roadside car crash that fools just can't keep their eyes off!

God, I am terrible!

Of course they are both so annoyingly nice ( sweethearts the both of 'em ) that it makes it nearly impossible to hate them. Even take my relentless teasing in good fun though I'm pretty sure they both purposely exaggerate their mawkish sentimentality just to make me nauseous - or at least I pray to God it's an exaggeration! Well, just as long as they don't morph into the infamously inseparable Richandamy! :)

Kissing Cousins

Fine. Fine. Doubt I'll get any rest till I answer this particular niggling question.

You see, this morning during an urgent round table discussion ( well via email since we're in all corners of the city ) on what constitutes incest amongst brothers, I let slip the hitherto little known fact that I once had a... thing with my cousin back when we were budding adolescents. The stuff of growing up adolescence and terribly cliched, I know - but what can I say! It really happened.

Despite the fact that it fits in so nicely with every gay novel ever written.


Umm.. wait, did he just grab my...?
Rather than unanimous disapproval with pitchforks being lit, the entire gang of gay men found themselves endlessly intrigued by the titillating event instead. Despite the fact that I protested that it was all done in innocent fun, they still insisted on a blow-by-blow so to speak.

As we all know, testosterone-fueled teenage boys always have this pressing need to dominate especially in their earlier coltish years desperately trying to prove their machismo. Comparing cojones no doubt. We still do that as civilized adults of course but it's a tad subtler with less emphasis on bloodied fists.

This surfeit of hormones certainly explains the occasional brawl I got into back in school ( not to mention the bruised knees and blackened eyes ) - and also the one I ended up in much later when I was a wee child of 15. Just a brief innocent scuffle over the remote.

Macho Mike was a year younger but even then, he was already catching up with me in height and build ( foreshadowing his future Terminator / He-Man bulk ). Already a scruffy lil runt all too ready to put up his dukes with a lil rough-housing.

But I hardly play fair. Scorpios are sneaky that way. During the friendly ruckus, my quick hands wandered and somehow ( possibly in a bid to get a better grip ) slipped into his shorts. And found something far more interesting ( and substantial! ) than a plain remote. Similar yet different in every way that matters. Healthy adolescent curiosity certainly won over my more martial instincts - while poor Mike sat stupefied not daring to breathe a word of complaint.

Who knows. It could have been his first orgasm.

Certainly my first handjob.

Of course Mike's a married man now with one kid ( and another on the way already ) so you can forget all that psychological babble about early childhood trauma inadvertently affecting his natural sexual proclivities :) Doubt he even remembers the fleeting one-evening-stand. Honestly, neither did I till the talk about blood relatives inbreeding and kissing cousins came about.

A Little Wink

I admit I'm just a bit of a flirt.

Easy enough for me since I know hardly anyone's gonna miscontrue my particularly coquettish behaviour. Hell the handsome beaus I banter with certainly wouldn't even give me the time of day had they not been stuck in that particular serendipitous situation with me.


Umm.. hi.. you flirting with me?
So today I flirted with the personable nutritionist at the pharmacy. There's nothing quite like being friendly, is there? It's an accomplishment you pick up rather quickly when you have the unenviable looks of an unsightly hobbit. Pretty boys just have to stand there for folks to like them after all :)

Lesson to flirting? Just a quick smile as an introduction ( with just a hint of amorous come-hither ) then offer that quick two-second favourable once-over. What my ISO used to call my instant strip X-ray vision - since it tends to leave the unhappy prey feeling naked and vulnerable under my relentless scrutiny. I'll admit my gaze tends to linger on certain... attractive portions.

This rough-and-ready technique fails occasionally especially with the tough hardcore but today, as a welcome reward, the man returned the compliment by holding my glance for a full five minutes. Then came that slow beguiling smile with a hint of dimples bracketing the toothy smile.

Could he be anymore gay?

People always wonder how our vaunted gay-dar sometimes works - and how we don't hit on the wrong guys by accident all the time ( the occasional violent mishap does occur but practice does make perfect! ). Easy enough I'd say. I mean straight guys given such a thorough examination would either balk or throw a punch in a fit of gay panic - which is why one of the earliest skills a growing homo learns is to run. Fast. Kinda like Forrest Gump. Very few heterosexuals would submit to such a conspicuous sexual overture after all.

And let's face it, only a gay man would look into another man's eyes for more than a minute without flinching. Short of being a practiced hypnotist.

Go try it.

But learn how to run first.