My hubby read my blog and especially after the last entry, his expression was c l a s s i c!
He was like howling with that indescribable expression that he wishes
very much to strangle me alive but yet loves me too much to do it.
"Awwwww~~~ Wah lau eh!!! With my pictures, left right center plastered in your entry, you made me out like a wanted criminal like that!!"
Muahahahahahaha. I laughed for a very very very long time. Kekeke.
"Remove lah!! Angry liao hor!!", he said with a sulky face.
Na na ni bu bu~ =PPPPPPPPPPPP
Nahz, I know he acted angry only lah, I know him too well.
Indeed, he followed by, "Put my carplate number la~ Put our address too~ You forgot to put I'm 70kg lah!! Put la~ Putttttttttt~~~~~~~."
Wahahahahahaha!!!
Anyway, too many sad stories around, here's a sweet and touching one; a friend on facebook shared it;
The last time I held his face, there were wrinkles. I could put my fingers in the furrows and stroke them. They were soft; not rough the way you’d expect an old person to be.
We met many decades ago in a public toilet in Golden Mile Complex. We didn't have Jack’d or Grindr then, but we were trained in recognizing meaningful glances. He gave me one of those and I reciprocated. We got off on each other in the last cubicle of the second level male toilet. The next week, we made a point to return to the same spot at the same time. This carried on for several weeks until one day when all lust on my part, for some reason, dropped. Instead, that week, I asked him out for coffee. He was a little disappointed that there wasn’t going to be any clandestine hanky-pankying but he agreed to meet me outside. It was a date.
However, unlike what you would expect, it wasn’t a fairy tale romance. We met at Singapore’s first McDonald’s. Our first proper conversation only revealed what a gulf there was between us. I was 30 and happy working as a mechanic in a garage. I only had a primary 6 education. He was freshly out of NS, going on to Columbia to pursue a degree in philosophy - full of promise. He spoke perfectly in both Mandarin and English. In my fluster, I switched rapidly between both not knowing which to rely on because both were equally atrocious. I lived in a 3-room flat in Jurong and he lived in a bungalow along Nassim. Our conversation was mostly awkward. I couldn’t understand him. So, we kept to topics that were easy for me to answer. There really wasn’t anything special that held us together. The only reason we continued meeting after that was because we didn't have any other gay friends apart from each other.
As they say, love can be cultivated. So it was over the months of meeting that I began to have a romantic affection for him. Our meetings were longer than the first but it was mostly him speaking. He would wax lyrical about philosophy, politics and life in general. At least, I thought that was what he was talking about. I would listen and nod. I think he believed that as the days went by, I slowly understood him and his more intelligent modes of expression. I didn’t. I was just happy to hear his voice and look at him. One day, eventually, I told him I liked him. As it turns out, he had grown fond of me too. It really was as simple as that. I couldn't see him off because his parents wouldn’t believe their son could have an uneducated friend like me. So I stayed home that day and cried in the shower.
The long distance was very difficult. Phone calls were infrequent. He didn't want to raise the suspicions of his parents and I couldn't afford to call. So, we wrote and we wrote often. In his letters, he wrote like he would when he spoke. I couldn’t understand a lot of it – I only made out some words and phrases – ‘I’m fine, happy,’ and ‘I miss you.’ At that point, that was enough for me. I wondered if he understood me and my handwriting.
The long distance, as I said, was difficult. There were many affairs which I had and couldn't tell him about; not because I didn’t want to but because I didn’t know how to. In what medium, what context, what language? He had his too. It was only when he returned that summer that we confessed everything to each other. The only difference was, I cried when I told it. I felt immensely guilty. He didn’t. He had no problem separating sex and love. I couldn’t understand. At first, I hated him for it. I thought he had no morals. I yelled and punched the walls of my void deck with my fists. I could feel the air shake. It was our first real fight. Eventually, he spoke. Eventually, he made me understand. Eventually, I learnt to forgive him and to forgive myself.
We continued writing over the next couple of years. My same awkward expressions; his more exalted ones. Summer was the only time I looked forward to. One day, I decided to pack up and leave. What harm could there be? My parents left when I was young. I had no siblings. I was raised by my grandmother. She passed away when I turned 21 and I sold the apartment and rented. I had had always been alone. I had nothing to lose. When I turned up, it was late. I knocked and he opened the door. What surprised me was the lack of surprise on his part. On the table, I saw dinner made for two.
I looked at him and he said, ‘it’s yours.’
"How?"
"I don’t know. I just knew."
That as they say, was that. Many years after I’d still tease him about having hidden a boy in the closet and letting the boy out at some point. Of course, the story didn’t end there. I’m 64 now and between now and then, much had happened. I could tell you about all of our fights, the silly, which vegetable or meat to buy, where to have dinner, where to put the washing machine; and the not-so-silly, when he wanted to triangulate this relationship with another young man (whom I suspected was out for his money); how his parents found out about us, disowned him, returned to him; how he had spent many nights reading me the news and novels he liked and teaching me how to write (which is why I am able to tell you this story now); how we adopted two lovely children.
He is gone now. A brain tumour grew and ate him up; took him away from me. I miss him very much but my weekends are not lonely. My children are grown up. One just graduated from his alma mater and the other is entering this fall. Both major in philosophy, just like their father. They spend their weekends with me. They’re good kids.
I didn’t have a family growing up but I’m very fortunate to have one now.
This is a super touching story....for 2 persons to work through all differences and hurdles like family backgrounds, education levels, long distance, age difference(maybe 10years apart?), social and peer pressure....I cant even imagine. Just think of them and you'll realize the problems you have/had are so tiny! Make it work! It's possible! I'm totally okay with gay or les or bi friends. Actually I merely feel it's just that the souls are in the wrong bodies. *shrugs* Depends on how you look at it. The only major problem(social pressure aside) is that you cant bear your own kids with the one you love; but oh well, you can always adopt. =)
Although I'm okay with les friends, hmm......there were times when I feel....friendship with them are just not the same as with other girls. I'm mean I totally respect their sexual orientation but when I declared that I'm obviously a straight, it kinda gets tacky when they looked at you with love or lust or whatever you called it.
Last time I used to have a friend who is a butch. And we went out clubbing together with another 2 girls. Somehow she got kinda high on booze and began to touch me and another girl friend. It's very weird lah. It's like her hands wandered around the waist and began to rub the back in a up-and-down motion. Which is veryyyyyyyyyyyy disturbing. (=.=)''''''''' Then I began to siam. Then she followed. Eventually I just blurted out for her to stop. She did apologized the next day but somehow, distanced grew.
I used to have a female ex-colleague who confessed to me before when I was single. She will do things like putting gifts for me in my pigeon hole or coming to find me after our work ends and stuff like that. And the way she looked at me, the way she always had to whisper in my ear instead of just talking normally simply drove me nuts!! I rejected her time to time again but she just couldnt get it. It comes to a point where I have to avoid her calls/messages and stuff and I felt pretty bad about it. But really no choice.
It's not that we, or rather I, cant accept les friends. I can! Provided I'm not the target lor. Other than that, I'm totally okay~ =)
Let's hope no men(actually I meant my hubby) will ever made me so disappointed in guys that I become les. Wahahahaha.
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