Sometimes Love Just Ain't Enough

Patti Smith & Don Henly

I don't wanna lose you,
but I don't wanna use you
just to have somebody by my side.

And I don't wanna hate you,
I don't wanna take you,
but I don't wanna be the one to cry.

And that don't really matter
to anyone anymore.
But like a fool I keep losing my place
and I keep seeing you walk through that door.

But there's a danger in loving somebody too much,
and it's sad when you know it's your heart you can't trust.
There's a reason why people don't stay where they are.
Baby, sometimes, love just ain't enough.

Now, I could never change you,
I don't wanna blame you.
Baby, you don't have to take the fall.
Yes, I may have hurt you,
but I did not desert you.

Maybe I just wanna have it all.
It makes a sound like thunder,
it makes me feel like rain.
And like a fool who will never see the truth,
I keep thinking something's gonna change.

And there's no way home,
when it's late at night and you're all alone.
Are there things that you wanted to say?
do you feel me beside you in your bed,
there beside you, where I used to lay?

And there's a danger in loving somebody too much,
and it's sad when you know it's your heart they can't touch.
There's a reason why people don't stay who they are.
Baby, sometimes, love just ain't enough.
Baby, sometimes, love...it just ain't enough.

A Hunk Who Likes To Take It From Behind

I was in the midst of watching the Amazing Race catch-up episodes at the TV lounge, when my back suddenly hit against what felt like a brick wall. I thought I had checked that the space behind me was clear just five seconds ago, somehow someone had managed to squeeze into the tiny gap.

This ‘brick wall’ turned out to be a well-built big sized muscular (couldn’t emphasize enough LOL) Chinese guy in his early 30s. My heart jumped a beat with this breathtaking sight, so much muscle in so close a distance. But I was more occupied with the internal debate of whether an apology was being expected out of me. Somehow I felt this was all intentional, so I kept quiet and turned my attention back to the show. I had missed too many episodes of the race, and one of the four remaining couples were enjoying catching the fancy of the whole world with one of their dramatic fights again.

The fighting couple had kissed and made up on TV, and yet he remained still behind me, not an inch to the left, not an inch to the right. Another commercial break, and I turned to the walkway to catch my breath. A combination of pleasant body perfume and heat generated from those overworked muscles so close behind me had caused a mad rush of blood to my ear lobes.

He suddenly lodged into a position that would be impossible for me to maneuver without establishing body contact. And so I had to sacrifice my butt as I squeezed through the walkway to leave the TV lounge. I was trying hard to avoid direct eye contact, but his face, which was now carrying a cute grin, was too hard to pass by. The complex maneuvering tired me out instantly, and I just stood by the walkway in front of the row of private cubicles, a few occupied, but mostly empty.

Sensing that I’m nearing surrender, he slowly entered an empty cubicle and just stood there with the door open. Overpowered, I walked in, turned around and quickly fold the door shut. I know a lot of patrons, including me, still feel embarrassed about being seen following someone into the cubicles, even though everyone knows that is exactly what people come here for.

With the door shut, I turned around and noticed the towel was already at one corner, and him stark naked and lying on the mattress, ready for some action. Not knowing what to expect (that is always the case when you have a private session in the cubicles), I just lie down on top of him, and gave him a good tight hug, savoring his warmth and scent.

I saw his hand reached behind, and returned with a condom, before putting it in my hand. For the longest of moment, I just stared at the packet, not knowing if he had intended that for himself or for me. Sensing my disorientation, he slowly spread his legs, gave my tool a tight grab and guided it to his hole. The message was now clear. I reached down with my finger to test the water; he pushed that away and insisted that he was ready, and so I proceeded.

I continue to experience the after effects of disbelief from a hunk who likes to take it from behind, nevertheless we had a great time.

BRAVEHEART ^[78]

Liquid On A Saturday Night

Central Market on a late Saturday night, 90% of the city’s party-going gay population had yet again gathered for another parade of designer labels, bodies and cosmetic products.

We reached just in time for the dance floor to open. My sister Gary once advised that those who reach before midnight are there to watch the crowd, where else those who reach after midnight are there to be watched.

We formed a line trying to squeeze through a small gap that had formed between the dancing crowd (on our right) that was already frantically shaking their hands, legs, bodies and all on, and the drinking crowd (on our left) that had gathered at the bar, some seated quietly watching the action on the dance floor, while the most of others were gathered in groups, talking and laughing enthusiastically.

Halfway through, this Gucci uncle caught sight of me, and all of a sudden, raised his arm to part his friends in one grand sweep, revealing a tiny miserable empty spot on the cushioned seat by the bar. (Moses incarnated? Perhaps.) Then he started gesturing that I go sit there. Sensing his rather comical and half-hearted intentions, I just gave him a blank stare and continued to brave the crowd.

“So young!” He exclaimed animatedly at the top of his voice, making one last effort to catch my attention. He was facing his group of seemingly fashionable uncles, but his eyes were permanently fixed on me instead.

I turned around, waited for a brief gap between the deafening bass of the disco beat, and then proclaimed in a similarly animated manner, “Not really laaaa…”

I could have said “THAT is gross misjudgement of my maturity”, but that would have lengthened our interaction by 200%, something I could not afford as the human traffic built up behind me.

We eventually managed to find a spot on the dance floor. Didn’t take me long to realise why I had waited four months before visiting again. As I was yawning to another monotonous number, my back hit against what felt like a brick wall. I turned around, and was graced by a ‘muscle wall’ indeed. A bunch of hunky and topless musclemen had gathered next to us. They believe that after spending countless hours in the gym, the queer crowd deserves to feast their eyes on their anatomy, and had thus proceeded to occupy 50% of the dance floor for their social outing that were peppered with incessant hugging and kissing. Never mind if they were not dancing.

Kent eventually led us to another area of the dance floor; we were suffocating from the growing mass of muscle that gradually engulfed us. Another monotonous number started playing, and we’re done for the day.

Think we will go Frangipani next Friday.

Hey Dad, Why Are You Not Dead Yet?

Hey Dad, you ought to die, because the only time you’re back was when you’re broke, and needed money from Mum for all your fucking indulgences, and I only had one karipap for lunch at school for six straight years.

Hey Dad, you ought to die, because I will always remember the embarrassing moment of Mum, pleading to the school teacher, in front of the whole of primary 4T, to allow us an additional 2 weeks to pay up the RM100 tuition fee, which we had promised 2 weeks back. I did not eat for two weeks, and had to be sent to the hospital after fainting on the basketball court during assembly.

Hey Dad, you ought to die, because you told Mum all your fucking stories, and turned her into a insecure lady who spends countless hours staring into blank air, and freaks out every time she detects the slightest association with me and Malay ladies.

Hey Dad, you ought to die, because no thanks to you, Mum had to work two shifts a day at the office, and came home to do sewing jobs for a neighbourhood tailor till the wee hours of the morning, and my only recollection of childhood is playing paper boats alone at the drain behind our makeshift hut in Chow Kit.

Hey Dad, you ought to die, because after disappearing for eight years, you came home one day just to get a photocopy of my SPM results and my IC. I saw my name on the scholarship recipient list in the newspaper one month later, but I never saw the money. How many girls did you fuck with RM20,000?

But Dad, if God were to ask me, I’ll let you live, because if not for you, I would not have turned gay, and I surely would not have come to know this great bunch of gay friends, of which we have built fulfilling relationships that I will bring to my grave with.

Danny, if you are reading this, this is for you. I know life was not as smooth sailing for you, it was never, for a great number of us too. But one day, when you realise you’re ready to forget the past, and forgive whoever has wronged you, you know for sure , that after all these years, you are finally freed.

It's Just A Game

I promise myself not to expect anything more from you.
I promise myself not to expect anything more from you.
I promise myself not to expect anything more from you.
I promise myself not to expect anything more from you.
I promise myself not to expect anything more from you.
I promise myself not to expect anything more from you.
I promise myself not to expect anything more from you.
I promise myself not to expect anything more from you.
I promise myself not to expect anything more from you.
I promise myself not to expect anything more from you.
I promise myself not to expect anything more from you.
I promise myself not to expect anything more from you.
I promise myself not to expect anything more from you.
I promise myself not to expect anything more from you.
I promise myself not to expect anything more from you.
I promise myself not to expect anything more from you.
I promise myself not to expect anything more from you.
I promise myself not to expect anything more from you.
I promise myself not to expect anything more from you.
I promise myself not to expect anything more from you.

What Malaysian Drivers Do Not Know

Malaysian drivers know:

• That they can make full use of road shoulders to cut down traveling time considerably.
• That it is possible to engage in SMS conversations on their mobile with one hand, while the other navigate their cars at break neck speed.
• All the 318 speed trap locations along the North-South highway like the buttons on their TV remote control.
• All the 27 free parking spots in Bukit Bintang area.

But they DO NOT know:

• That Touch’N Go cards are accepted at cash lanes at the PLUS toll plazas as well.

You Gave Me Your Heart In Datai And Andaman

I remember staring intensely at the flight information board for the longest of time. Gary had gladly sat down with me over mamak the day before to run through the do’s and don’ts of flying, and she had mentioned the information board would be the first thing I’ll have to check once I arrive at KLIA. I reached to feel my passport in my right pocket for the 33th time, it’s still there.

I remember being very quiet in the taxi. 5 minutes into the ride, the driver started making wild guesses of why a young boy like me was traveling all by himself. I think I just told him Mum was rushing for her China trip and had left her luggage at home.

I remember stepping into the plane for the first time, being pinned to my seat by the force during take-off, and gazing out the tiny windows for a sight of the clouds so up close, and of course, the taste of the orange juice the stewardess had served. (Gary had stressed that she ALWAYS decline the offer, as those are not REAL fruit juices.)

I remember seeing your anxious face turned into delight as I walked out into the arrival hall. You had broken away from the waiting crowd to stand much more in front because you know I won’t know what to do if I don’t see you there. I quickened my pace towards you, and your out-stretched hands embraced me in one powerful but warm sweep. And then you put the hotel keys in my palm, and said “Keep this, it’s the key to my heart.”

And I remember the stares and the astonishment on everyone’s faces. Surely a hotel chauffeur has witnessed things more terrifying than a Caucasian man embracing an Asian boy.

I remember being the only local in the resort amongst the many Caucasians, Japanese and Middle-Easterners that were holidaying there. And the stares of the two Japanese ladies at the table on our right during the poolside candlelight dinner. We took a stroll along the beach after that, the touch of the soft fine sand, and your warm body as you hug me in your arms. You had too much red wine during dinner.

I remember waking up in the mornings to be greeted by your sweet face. You would say I slept like a baby. Thank God you do not snore!

So it's been almost three years. What do you remember, Ted?

BRAVEHEART ^[77]

Kissing A Tattoo On The Back

Fate had it that I would meet him even before I entered Mirage. While we found parking spaces at opposite ends of the carpark, we walked towards the same direction, arriving at the stairways leading up to the ‘sports club’ at exactly the same time. Of the possible 18,000 seconds during which one could arrive within the peak hours, we were fated to arrive not one second earlier, and not one second later.

We paused at the stairways. Sparks were set off, nearly incinerating the Indian lady who was putting her clothes out to dry three blocks away. I waited to see if he would just grab me and go off somewhere together, saving each other the RM20 entrance fee. After what seemed like eternity, he reluctantly terminated the eye contact, and headed upstairs.

We met again at the lockers. Of the six different locker areas available, we just had to prefer to same location. I started stripping just three columns away from him, conscious not to re-establish eye contact, as another sight of him might cause a mad rush of blood between my legs. But I just had to steal a glance or two of him, though I was careful not to time it in accordance to his glance of me. And I lived to tell the account of a figure emerging to its full glory.

He made an attempt to improvise on his strategy of just overdue eye contact, by first standing really close to me while we were both in front of the lower common dark rooms, and then discreetly inching his left hand for the kill. (I had promptly positioned my right hand for easy assess.)

It was the most passionate sessions I have had for a long time, though I must admit I don’t have a good memory though (so you most probably will read the same comments again in the not so future entries). I must have emerged with much poutier lips from the long-winded kissing sessions, both before and after the climax.

He told me it’s the first time he does it twice with the same guy on the same day and that I should give him an ang pow for achieving this feat. I wanted to tell him it’s a first time for me too, but I didn’t. I did tell him though, that contrary to what others say, the tattoo on his back looks nice.

I didn’t use soap to shower that day, his perfume, as breathtaking as the entire episode, still lingers on.

BRAVEHEART ^[83]

I Blue You, You Blue Me

A usual Saturday night out at Bukit Bintang, a population of coffee sipping, makeup wearing, glamour touting, SKII endorsing brand conscious sisters had congregated at the outdoor café setting of SanFran, Lot 10.

I fired up the bluetooth reception on my Nokia and found 8 other devices in the vicinity, with names probably as glamorous as their owners. Over at the other tables, a few were already deeply engaged in this new wave of communication, heads down, and hands grasping firmly on their phones (cleverly positioned below the table top for the discreet ones).

At times they would turn and look around, perhaps to identify the culprit who had just sent over some insidious comments (“I think that moustache of yours doesn’t go well with the LV bag”). And other times, proudly flashing their phones to their gang of friends, sharing a naughty video clip or picture that he had just received over the air.

The bluetooth setting in Nokia phones requires that the receiver clicks OK to acknowledge the transmission, which simply means I will have to constantly check on my phone to see if someone is trying to send me something. Not good, as this will rob me of the precious time spent on other activities that are just as meaningful, such as entertaining ourselves watching the occasional good meat walk past, or listening to my sisters share their very personal account of a good catch late last night (often peppered with details too lurid for any blogs).

As I sipped up the last drop of ice-blended mocha, my phones are already loaded with 2 new video clips, 8 new pics, and a new phone number.

Are you free this weekend? Go join the party. :P

Against All Odds

8:30am on the KL-Seremban Highway, I drove past the toll plaza heading towards the Seremban direction, and immediately joined the bumper-to-bumper traffic which had now backed up almost to the toll plaza itself. Yes, a condition as rare as a 9.0 magnitude earthquake given the fact that 70% of the working population were most probably already on leave with the school holidays and year-end period (at least that assumption is true for my office). Another accident (however minor) on either side of the highway again?

A green Alfa Romeo inched closely up to my right. I turned to look and almost choked on my gum. It was unmistakably Spiky Hair Uncle (SHU)! What is the odd of ever bumping into a colleague who works in the same floor and wing as you, and whom you have fancied in the office, amongst a thousand other vehicles that were all simultaneously trying to squeeze themselves from the 20-lane toll entrance to a 4-lane highway?

And oh, my CD started playing “What a Wonderful World” at that very moment.

I was naturally out of breath, but I guess SHU was not too excited about meeting in this out-of-place setting. He turned, gave me his usual trademark glance, mouth opened slightly then closed (simulating chewing, which he believes ups his coolness a few level), and then proceeded to drive past me. Damn! His lane seemed to be moving faster than mine.

The traffic eventually cleared, and I found myself driving 20% faster all the way to the office, in search of a green Alfa Romeo.

BRAVEHEART ^[76]

A Month's Worth Of Emotions

Two fortnights ago…
We were holding each other in our arms, at one dark corner in the maze, dancing slowly to a song. I tried very hard, but I couldn’t recall which song was it already. Perhaps your perfume will do the trick. I remember asking you what you do for a living. You said I’ll know in due time.

Two weeks ago…
I received the 280th SMS you sent for the month, and I realised typing in Chinese is really not that time-consuming after all. By now, I have come to know your entire family’s history (how you ran away from home, escaping from the marriage planned quietly behind your back, your family was trying to save themselves from the disgrace of a son gone wild perhaps?), the names of all your dogs (and a detailed account of how you have rescued each of them from their previous owners), and how you ended with a clean-shaven head (you said it saves you from the trouble of having to visit the hairdresser every month, but then to keep it clean-shaven, you now have to go every week instead.. I think you lost a bet). You still didn’t tell me what you do for a living.

Two days ago…
I was kissing your neck again on the sofa, watching Formula 17. Too bad I didn’t know how it ends, coz we were doing things more passionate then the lead actors in the movie, and then we had to switch to your bedroom for a more comfortable setting. It was a hot afternoon; good thing you had two fans running at the same time. I continued to admire the quaint apartment you had when we were putting on our shoes at the door. Your pull me towards you for one last hug. I watched as you disappeared into the monorail coach. I still don’t know what you do for a living.

Two minutes ago…
I received the first SMS from you since two days ago. You said you have been busy. With what? WORK? Where? What? How? WHY?

BRAVEHEART ^[75]

Boob Watch in Green Lotus

Oh gosh! I would be extremely concern if this cafe only has ONE "entire value customer". Although I must agree that the shrinking food servings does form a deterrance for frequent visits, this place has definitely got the right mix of food and ambience to draw in the crowd even amongst straight guys and gals.

The Story Of Lele And Mr B

It was a hurriedly arranged mamak session. Nevertheless, we arrived on-time at our regular hangout only to find Lele already there. (He’s never early). It was a match night, students from the 318 condos in the neighbourhood had gathered to attempt and break the record for the biggest mamak gathering during the EPL season. Which teams were playing? Erm.. how do you tell?

Amidst all the incessant cheering and jeering, Lele seemed to be in a world of his own, desolated and ignorant to the world around him.

“So which guy is it this time?” I had to break the silence.

Lele started his account reluctantly, carefully balancing between the intensely painful urge to share his disappointment and frustration, but at the same time, not revealing enough of his desires such that these could be used against him during teasing wars at happier moments.

He met B online. After some exchanges of SMS, and phonecalls, they had fixed a meet-up earlier that afternoon at some secluded spot near a stadium. B didn’t turn up? Yes, he did. Did they eventually meet? Yes, but not the way Lele had imagined it to be.

B caught a glimpse of Lele at the carpark, not far from the agreed meeting spot, and proceeded to execute a disappearing act. First few calls to his mobile went unanswered, and subsequent ones were routed to the voicemail, leaving Lele standing there, confused, frustrated and disappointed.

“You have been using THAT pic for your online profile again, haven’t you?” I went straight to the point.

“If your memory hasn’t failed you, even your ELDEST SISTER couldn’t recognise that was you!” It’s getting late, I pushed further.

“Mr B most probably was expecting SOMETHING else. Why do you keep repeating the mistake?” I delivered the final verdict.

“Mamak, kira!”

Lelong In Lost World

2am on a Saturday morning, our car turned right at the junction, and entered KL’s premiere cruising park. The carpark was already 70% occupied with visitors from as far as Klang and Kajang.

At just 15km/hour, we made an obligatory tour in the car around the carpark, which served both to announce to the entire community of our arrival (giving them a full view of the occupants, and perhaps a potential will be intrigued enough by the sight to walk up later and say hi) and to ensure that all is well before we get off the car (no cousins/uncles/neighbours/colleagues that you haven’t pecah to, no ex-lovers who still hold a grudge against you, no ex-sisters who remembers his fifth bf had left him for you etc etc).

At one corner, the Uncle Gang had gathered around once again for their weekly outing. Some leaning against their car while others squatting or sitting on the dividers. What would the agenda be, I wonder. Recollecting on the week that was? Perhaps sharing an experience about the young boy whom they have fished just two days ago from the neighbourhood cyber cafe, or the prospects of setting up the 83rd massage parlours in town, or sharing 101 tips on the best excuse of the week to give persistent relatives/colleagues who have asked yet again why they have remained single, or to the unsuspecting wives at home on why they absolutely need to meet up with the gang every Saturday at such ungodly hours.

Over at another brighter spot, a group of younger ones had congregated and were busy laughing their dicks off over some jokes, or was it a personal account of an interesting find in the bushes nearby? Their peals of laughter (which most probably have reached Jupiter by now) would be the only refreshment to an otherwise serene night. Serenity seemed to be out of place for such a high level of hustle and bustle, where a continuous flow of traffic cruised in and out of the park (an infinite loop around the park for the discreet ones), and a continuous flow of human traffic cruised in and out of the darker bushes at the nearby hillocks.

The group soon dispersed, and the young ones scattered away into the night. Some took a walk around the lake, eventually disappearing into the bushes, some took a scroll around the carpark, while the more adventurous ones sat right by the side of the road, hoping to catch the fancy of the driver in the beaming Beamer who had just arrived.

Lelong! Lelong! Any takers tonight?

Your Son Most Probably Is Gay If:

• He does not have a good relationship with Dad (not on talking terms, minimal interaction, Dad-phobia etc).
• He grew up without a fatherly figure (Dad passed away, Mum-Dad separated, divorced etc).
• He was brought up by a motherly figure (Grandma, Auntie, maids etc)
• He is the eldest or the youngest in the family.
• He is the only son in the family.
• He spent a lot of time during his childhood playing with his sisters, neighbours’ daughters, cousin sisters etc.
• He hates watching football.
• He adores Madonna, Faye Wong, Spice Girls or any other female singers or girl bands.
• He likes tight-fitting clothes.
• He works out in Fitness First.
• He prefers spending his weekend nights at Central Market rather than P Ramlee/ Bangsar/ Kiara.
• He shops for his own undies, and has at least one g-string/thong.
• He has more guy friends than gal friends.
• He uses more skincare than his sisters/Mum.
• Despite his good looks, and well-built body, he is still single.
• His guy friends have similar traits mentioned above.

I Saw This At The Curve

A gayish-looking sign (notice TWO male signs?), held by a even more gayish-looking 'angel'? And it's PINK in colour! Now I couldn't remember who sent him. Blame it on the outfit! :D

By the way, I saw this at 'The Curve'. YES! This place is definitely not straight. LOL

I Spent 6sen On This

017-XXX: Where you goto celebrate xmas?

Me: Hi.. sorry, I don’t seem to have your number in my contact list. May I know who is this please?

017-XXX: Im kenXXX. We meet in mirage. Remember me?

Me: erm.. when did we meet? Yesterday? Where you fr again?

017-XXX: Too bad. U dun have remember me again. I’m ken have fun with u got 2 time in mirage remember

Me: Sorry ken. I’m really bad with remembering names. If u have picture easier to remember. Can you describe urself?

017-XXX: (no reply)

Story of a Skimpy Towel

He came after all the bigger towels were distributed, and had to walk around with a skimpy version that was only big enough to cover the essentials, which in Manatus’ definition, should not include the buttocks. A good thing though, coz they looked really firm and bubbly. An uncle managed to steal a pinch, he didn’t seem to mind.

While we were standing side by side against the wall in the steam room, I wanted to ask him what perfume was he wearing. Must be good stuff, coz it survived the heat and moisture. But then I guess it’s not a good place to start a conversation.

I couldn’t remember who started it, but soon we were holding hands, and then proceeded to some light kissing and hugging. At one point, I was just leaning against him while we were sitted. There were no hot passionate moments, no loud raunchy moans; just quiet, subtle emotions drown in a warm embrace (warmer then the steam in the room). Seemed like forever.

Managed to push away some intruding hands. Oh gosh, has the table turned?

We still didn’t talk. Not when it’s all over, or in the showers, or at the lockers. He was sitting at the counter, making a phonecall. We maintained eye contact as he walked (reluctantly?) towards the main door. The last glimpse of him, hands raised mid-air waving at me, light smile on his face (did you say ‘Thank you’?) before he disappeared into the night.

Will you ever find love in saunas?

BRAVEHEART ^[73]

Seeded PLU

"Oh gosh, they're numbering all PLUs in Chile and packing them up in plastic bags for export! Hmm... Must try :D "

Too Picky?

"Now don't get picky with the food! Tell me how long you've been starving?!"

The Lonely Tree

A lonely tree, captured on the way to Bukit Bintang. And then this song started to play over the radio.. didn't know it can sound so sad...

My bonnie lies over the ocean
My bonnie lies over the sea
My bonnie lies over the ocean
Oh bring back my bonnie to me

If Only I Am Thick-Skinned Enough

Hey it's you! Didn't know you come to work at this time. What perfume are you using? I can smell it right across from this side of the lift. Did you just steal a glance of me? Shall I smile? Will you smile back? Where did you get your haircut? What's your hobbies? Do you swim? How about clubbing? Gardening then? Too bad our office is just two floors up, else I'll rush up and give you an early morning hug and wish you a great day ahead. I'll make it a point to say 'Hi' next time okies?

TimeOut

Is it only 10am? Gosh, how many times have I yawned? I think I have lost count of the number of times I reminded myself coming to the office only to stare at the monitor the whole day is not something I want to call my career. I could be discovering the streets in vibrant Bangkok or perhaps Taipei right now. Gosh it was so close! Don’t understand why fate has it that I need to stay grounded. Can someone please give me a break?!

I'm Waiting to Exhale

Everyone falls in love sometime
Sometimes it's wrong, sometimes it's right
For every win Someone must fail
But there comes a point when
When we exhale (yeah, yeah, say)

Shoop, Shoop, Shoop
Shoo Be Doop Shoop Shoop ...

Sometimes you'll laugh
Sometimes you'll cry
Life never tells us
The when's or why's
When you've got friends to wish you well
You'll find a point when
You will exhale (yeah, yeah, say)

Hearts are often broken
When there are words unspoken
In your soul there's answers to your prayers
If you're searching for a place you know
A familiar face somewhere to go
You should look inside yourself
You're halfway there

:: Whitney Houston/ Exhale

RM35 to have a straight guy jerk you off

Somehow the entire craze about visiting PLU massage joints passed us by quietly.. until last Saturday that is, when the fact that it popped up again during a conversation with a close friend proved that it’s time for at least one visit, not for the physical relief (think the current visits to saunas suffice, thank you) but more for the experience.

Arrived on a late Saturday evening, and were immediately greeted by a Chinese uncle (with blond hair) sitted on an armchair in a cosy reception room. Nicely lined up on one of the walls are photo cards of masseurs grouped by either ‘Occupied’, ‘Available’, or ‘Off Duty’. Like commodities on a active trading day at the KLSE, the boss would make or receive calls on his mobile, and walk over to the board from time to time to shuffle the cards and update the masseurs’ availability.

One advice: don’t trust the photos, go look at the real thing, who would most probably be hanging around in another room nearby. And beware especially of the photos taken in studio, as only someone who’s not as desirable would resort to the help of make-up artists and Photoshop expert to sell!

The massage session itself wasn’t particularly memorable. It was weak. Gosh, or maybe you heard my brittle bones screaming? I think my bf gives better massage! Chatted on and off with the masseur, and it didn’t take my gaydar long to confirm that he is straight. How weird! I felt uneasy, this is but a barter of money and pleasure. How can pleasure be a one-way street. Money shouldn’t even be in the picture.

Anyone wants my member card? It gives you one free session after the tenth visit.

The Sauna Host

Mirage (KL) Floor Map
What works:
- The entire world (apart from carpark attendee, and an occasional oblivious resident of the nearby wooden houses) won’t see you enter the joint.
- It’s just 20 steps from the carpark to the stairway entrance.
- A generous number of private rooms (proper rooms, not toilets. Hallelujah!)
- Decent food served (not ‘imported’ from mamak stall next door, thank you)
- Nice Christmas tree for you to go gaga over in the embrace of your latest find. :P

Not that we care, but..
- Uncles/’Aunties’, got your Redbull/ Tongkat Ali handy to brave the five-storey outlet?
- No ladies, the air freshener doesn’t work, the place still smells!
- How many years old are those sperm stain on the walls? The curtains? The urinals?
- No Jacuzzi! Owners claim they have no means of keeping the water ‘germ-free’. I say go ask Otot-Otot!


Otot-Otot (KL) Floor Map
What works:
- Discreet, cosy and tastefully refurbished outlet in the middle of seedy, rundown Chow Kit area.
- Yes, we purposely did not share the secret to germ-free water in the Jacuzzi so Mirage can come up with this excuse when asked why they do not have a Jacuzzi there.

Not that we care, but..
- Oh, we feel great lying on the cold, hard, wet and sticky toilet floor with your fresh find is quite exciting. Yes, truly unforgettable indeed.
- Did you expect US to bear the cost of refurbishment?
- We serve mainly ‘roti canai’ and ‘nasi lemak’ here.
- Boss ah, my Fridae.com just took 5min to load.


Bambusa (KL)
What works:
- Nice decent outlet with some tasteful touches, check out the ‘raining room’, and the rooftop garden.

Not that we care, but..
- The entire Bukit Bintang population will witness as you brave the stairway entrance (complimented by brightly lit signboard) to the joint.
- Want some privacy for a discreet session? Try the toilets.
- Did it use to be more crowded here?

The M Word

Yes, I guess it was just 3 weeks ago that we said we’re going to boycott Mirage. Yes, we did say they could have done a thousand times better in upkeeping the place – the dark room smells (but the perfume gals come around spraying air freshener every now and then), the water in the showers just drip sometimes (but hey, they have water heaters), there is no Jacuzzi (the owner says it’s difficult to keep the water germ-free, as though it is already speckless all around the place), the lockers look like they’re ready to fall apart (but they just changed the padlocks!), the curtains in the dining area could use a wash (but they serve much better meals).So I guess with no real competition, they have every reason to believe people will just return, just like us. (Otot-otot wants us to believe it’s comfortable to have sex on the toilet floor, Bambusa believes their patrons are thick-skinned enough to walk up the stairway entrance, with brightly lit signboards to add, for the whole of Bukit Bintang folks to see and Manatus believes it’s healthy to have cold showers after a out-of-body experience in the steam room.)And indeed, Mirage on a Sunday evening must be the most happening place in the whole of Malaysia.

Braving KL

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