Spread and Ready

I'm all open for you.

Hantu Photographed in Shopping Mall

BravingKL reporting on the convincingly real footage of supernatural sighting in MBK shopping centre, Bangkok.

Pussy Underneath

I'm a virgin, don't touch me. Meow!

The Front Door Needs You

Hilarious signs from the land of smiles.

A B C D E F Cup

Please choose your size. We make it according to your specifications.

Suddenly Sunday

2:45am on an early sunday morning. Forgot how the whole Saturday went passed. I think I watched a movie. Must remember to bring AhSa for carwash tomorrow, and drive over to Citibank to settle the bill. We have not been bringing Mum out lately, shall think of a nice place for dinner. Updated my journal and I can't seem to fall asleep.

Am I really loosing you?

Anatomy Of A Change Of Heart

1/ I turned around only to see you in his arms. Perhaps the stuffy environment warranted a mouth-to-mouth resuscitation.

2/ He gave you a farewell hug and kiss as we bid farewell in Suriwong. Guess the session you had with him earlier at the sauna was too intense, and the thought of not being able to feel each other again for a long time, too distressing to bear.

3/ You left me alone at the departure lounge to get to a public phone for a farewell phone call to him. Guess an SMS just won’t do.

4/ I could almost feel your aching heart as we prepared for take off. You said it’s the same emotions you felt many years ago, when you bid farewell to me in Pudu Raya to catch a bus back to Singapore for work. Did we hug and kiss too? I could not recall.

5/ You went downstairs after dinner to get a calling card. You did your calculations and concluded that the rates are 80% cheaper. Put on the headphones as you play and replay the telephone conversations you recorded on the mobile.

6/ Did you say you’re going back to Bangkok again to see him, only him? Thanks for calculating my annual leave balance for me, and concluding that since I only had two days left in my pot, I would not be able to join you. You said you will buy me some t-shirts from Chatuchak, you have to work harder on those half-hearted offers.

Did you asked if I would be sad/angry if you really go? Does my answer really matter?

Fate

fate
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A Potpourri of Queer Emotions (Fr My Bangkok Trip)

EMBARASSED
9pm on a Saturday night at Babylon sauna, standing in front of the open air dining area together with hundreds of others waiting for the foam party to start. Clad in just our swim trunks (I wrapped a towel around for added protection), we started dancing to the disco music, our skin itching to be soaked in industrial foam that would fall from foam-maker machine hung above the enclosed area, like mania from heaven, dehydrating every inch of our skin. Desmond suddenly appeared next to me, and I told him in Cantonese that I think the guy standing in front of me is cute. He told me softly that this guy speaks our language.


SPOILT
10am on a Saturday morning in Babylon barracks. I rushed out to the common washroom in just my towel. I was an hour late for the Chatucak shopping trip, but then my sisters would most probably thank me for allowing them extra time at helping themselves to the gorgeous ‘breakfast spread’ up on the reception level. Slapped an inch of facial wash cream on my face, and started feeling around for the longest of time for the tap to turn on the water. Damn the design! How are we supposed to complete our facial regimen with one hand constantly pressing on the tap for the water? As I was struggling, I felt a hairy hand on the tap, and then a giggle as I recoiled from the surprise. Wiped the facial wash off my eyes and found a Habate (Ang Mo, or Caucasian guy) standing in front of me. He kept his hand firmly on the tap for a full two minutes until I completed the whole routine. I gave him a nice hug and the sweetest smile I could conjure up before returning to my room.

AMUSED
You took the empty seat on my left and immediately wrapped your right hand on my body. It was a Saturday night at the agogo boy bar. Even though the show had ended, there were many patrons lingering around still. Somehow you couldn’t find anyone else to attack. I was now the centre of attraction for my sisters as I struggled to turn down your advances politely, but it grew more persistent from kisses on the face to fondling of my nipples, to free sex offers and attack of my manhood (of which had grown soft from the unwanted attention, and you wondered if I was even gay). Lily said since the tables had turned and I seemed to be your agogo boy instead, I should now charge the drinks on you. Khob Khun Krab!

HEARTBROKEN
We arrived at the Newman agogo boy bar to a full house seating. The sofa seats lining the walls were fully occupied. As the mamasan scurried around to find us seats, I felt you touched my hands softly. Didn’t matter you were clad in just your white undies with a semi erection underneath, you had the most sincere and decent smile in the length and breath of Suriwong street. We were forced to take the bar seating right on the edge of the raised dance pool, where the performance will take place. As I sat there sipping my Coke and watching the show, you stood quietly behind me, both arms locking onto my body in a tight embrace. I’m sorry I did not buy you a drink (I only had enough money left for the airport tax tomorrow), I’m sorry I did not ask you to sit down (there were no empty seats around me), I’m most sorry I could not take you out for the night (I was sharing the room with my bf). But you held on nevertheless for the full 90 minutes, oblivious to the countless stares of admiration from the other patrons. On our way out, you slipped a pink balloon poodle and a stalk of rose into my hand, careful not to catch the attention of the outrage mamasan. I turned back at the entrance in time to see you disappeared into your world once more.

…

Heartbroken (Based on "The Potpourri of Queer Emotions")

The five of us arrived at the Newman agogo boy bar to a full house seating. The sofa seats lining the walls were already fully occupied. There were curious straight couples here for the promise of the most outrageous unnatural sex acts in the world, groups of queer folks here to witness sexual poses wilder than their 50 people gang bang sessions in Towel Club, and a few uncles here to catch one of the boys to brush their egos and prove yet again that this Earth is worth their existence for at least another night.

As the mamasan scurried around to find us seats, I felt you touched my hands softly. Didn’t matter you were clad in just your white undies with a semi erection underneath, you had the most sincere and decent smile in the length and breath of Suriwong street. The patrons behind were pushing us in, you reluctantly let go of my hands, but our eye contact locked on to each other stubbornly.

We were forced to take the bar seating right on the edge of the raised stage, where the performance will take place. I looked up and found a huge bulge staring at me. It was 15 minutes before the show begins, but there were already boys on the stage, each clad similarly in white undies and a round number plate for easy identification. As they made their turns on the stage, some began to dance to the deafening music, while others stood still and look around to check for approval eyes from amongst the patrons.

“I like you.” The voice came through loud and clear, echoed through my auditory canal into my inner ear before registering in my brain. Perhaps you had placed your mouth too close. Lily and Piu Piu were obviously amused by the attention that I was getting from you, and had dutifully shifted their focus from the Agogo Boy No 33 dancing on the stage (the one with a big bulge) to Agogo Boy No 28, who had now positioned himself right behind me.

“You are beautiful and pretty.” You repeated after another Agogo Boy who was standing next to you. So he is your English teacher.

“Thank you.” I said bashfully, careful to balance between being too overly overjoyed (of the undivided attention that I was getting from you) and being overly cautious (of money boys who go all way out to land their kill of the night.)

You seemed delighted with my positive response and immediately opened your arms, and locked them onto my body in a tight one-way embrace. Lily and Piu Piu watched with heightened enthusiasm as they waited in anticipation of your next move.

I stayed very still, reluctant to provide further feedback to you on my feelings. I was worried that any further actions from me would mean that I was accepting your company, which most probably would result in additional charges on top of the 200 baht that we paid for the drinks. I would pay if I can afford to, but the millions of items for sale at Chatuchak had caused a temporary loss of self-restraint earlier in the morning, leaving me with just enough cash to settle the 500 baht airport tax for the return flight tomorrow.

And so to the disappointment of Lily and Piu Piu, I continued to stay very still. My eyes longed to see you straight in the face, but I continued to stay fixated on the performance in front of me. My ears longed to hear your elementary English, but they choose to be drown in the deafening music. My mouth longed to taste your lips, but the artificial sweetness of Coke did the trick.

I thought you would leave me, but you held on nevertheless, oblivious to the countless stares of admiration from the other patrons. Throughout a good 90 minutes, your eyes continued to wander on my face, your ears listening out for every opportunity to hear my voice, your lips hovered on the back of my neck patiently awaiting mine, and your arms continued the tightening embrace on my body.

The mamasan finally came over and gently reminded me if I would like to offer him a drink.

“I did not invite him here.” I said softly to the mamasan, who promptly gave you a stare and walked away. That was perhaps the most heartless thing I have ever said to anyone in this world. Please believe me that it hurt myself as much as it would hurt you (if you understood English).

And I imagined how different things would be if I were to meet you in another setting, in another time.

You finally let go of your grasp on me to go to the washroom, but you never return. Perhaps the mamasan had given you a stern warning about wasting too much time on someone who seemed ignorant to the attention that you were showering him with.

My back began to feel the shivers. Your body most probably had shielded me previously from the direct blow of cool air from the air-conditioner behind me. Right now the void felt extra painful amidst the drowning music and cheering crowd. The copulating couple on the stage had changed into yet another difficult position of acrobatic proportions, but I don’t remember anything more.

As we were collecting money amongst ourselves to settle the bill, I saw you again, across the other side of the stage. Your other agogo friends were scrambling all over to catch hold of the last few single uncles who had stayed on after the show for some last minute ‘shopping’ spree. But you just sat there on the edge of the stage, your longing eyes fixated on me. The smile on your face had faded away, your arms were hugging your naked upper body.

“I don’t have money for you, boy. Are you for real?” I opened my mouth but acknowledged the language barrier between us. Tried looking for your English teacher but the rest had already finished up their drinks and were walking towards to the door. I left my seat reluctantly and joined them. My legs felt heavy, had to hold on to Lily for support.

And then you walked over to me, and quietly slipped a stalk of rose into my hand.

And I stopped breathing.

I would have enough air in my lungs to say “Thank you”, but I know any response from me would invite unwanted attention from the mamasan, who would most probably give you an even sterner lecture this time.

And so, with one deep breath, I pushed the door and left. I turned back to catch one last glimpse of you, but you had already disappeared behind the shutting door, you into your own world, and me into mine.

As tight as your grasp on me just one hour ago, I now held on tight to the stalk of rose from you. The petals were already shrivelling, but in my teary eyes, it was the most beautiful rose I have ever seen.

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

Exhale – Whitney Houston

BRAVEHEART ^[81]

Close Encounter of The Dutch Kind

I was in the midst of explaining the concept of mathematical differentiation and integration to Lily when Kent suddenly gave me a nudge with his elbow. (I know exchanging beauty tips and the latest meetup experiences would be a more appropriate subject for a Saturday’s night out at San Fran, Bukit Bintang, but it was a extremely hot and humid night, and we didn’t want to get all sweaty talking about men). I turned to look at Kent, and found his eyes fixed on a moving object a few meters away, and with such admiring looks written all over his face, I knew this would definitely be worth it.

So I looked up, in time to catch the object in action. You were wearing a sleeveless tee, semi-concealing what looked like ripples of muscles fresh from a good workout at the gym. The matching jogging pants were thoughtfully baggy so as not to reveal too much of the heavenly tool, which otherwise would further turn up the temperate around the café due to overly excited heat generation from enthusiastic admirers who had now cease all communication and had their full attention to this object.

And then we established eye contact, and time stood still. Next to me, I heard Carol and Lily and the rest let out a muted ‘Ouch’ as sparks hit their skin. 10 meters from each other, we carried on with this most native form of communication channel, you with your slow walk across the length and breath of our coffee table and me seated on my chair with my eight other sisters. And then you disappeared behind a pillar, bringing the contact to a premature termination.

Before my sisters could pinch me for setting parts of their clothes on fire, you reappeared again from behind the pillar, not to walk back to where you came from, but straight at us. We re-established eye contact again as you inched your way forward.

“Hi! Did you wave at me just now?”

I wanted to say I would be too weak to even raise a finger, but was lost for words. I guess you took the momentary lapse of response as a ‘YES!’, and promptly pulled a chair and sat down next to me. I caught sight of your dirty blonde hair and green eyes and started to blush while you began to introduce yourself.

Half way through, as though sensing I needed some time to catch my breath, you walked to the counter to get a drink. With the distraction temporarily off radar, my sisters, who had watched the entire episode with utter disbelief, started questioning if I knew you, and soon the lecture expanded to cover lessons about the dangers of inviting unwanted attention with naughty eyes.

I soon loosen up and got used to seeing a Dutch hunk sitting 5 inches from me, and we talked more. Sorry I couldn’t follow you to Liquid, my sisters preferred not to loose their beauty sleep over a distant thought of hooking up someone in a disco choked with bodylicious male models wannabe.

I saw Lily taking a mental note of registering this as one of the Top 5 subject matter to bring up if we were to run out of juicy conversation topics during our regular café sessions.

BRAVEHEART ^[80]

A Cute Waiter

2pm on a sunny Saturday afternoon at Causeway Bay restaurant, Low Yatt Plaza. He was dashing himself silly all over the place, one second to place order for a group of sisters who had just arrived, another second to fetch some cut cili padi for a young couple upstairs, and yet another to clear the table for yet more hungry patrons. I wonder what was your source of this seemingly inexhaustible energy.

We were ready to place our order, but waited a further 10 minutes till you walked passed. No other waiters were good enough.

You reluctantly established eye contact. Sorry, I must have stared too hard.

A Desolate World

The lights around the ATM machine were quite dim, but in a town that goes to sleep at 7pm, this was the best spot for her. It was month end, somehow the incessant flow of human traffic that had come to perform banking chores just a few meters away seemed unable to intrude her desolate world. Workbook on her lap, she tried her best recalling what was taught earlier today, but then she had spent most of the time standing outside the classroom, cikgu did not seem to fancy her sense of dressing.

Across the road, her little sister was calling out to her. “Mak suruh balik! Ayah dah tidur dah!“ (Mum asked you to go home! Dad is asleep already!)

Emerging from her oblivion, she slowly stood up, and only then did the extent of her piteous existence set in. Walking with a limp, she crossed the road to her sister and gave her a hug. Hands held tight, they walked towards the sea front and slowly disappeared into the night.

A Broken Tile

Dome washroom, KLCC

A Quickie

"So you ok if we just make this a quick one?"

A Hunk Who Likes To Wear A Cock Ring

The bulge beneath your towel seemed alive, and we were just 30 seconds into foreplay. It was my first day wearing Men 212, I guess you liked it as you lips and nose had lingered around my neck since we entered the cubicle.

You reached down to peel away your towel. I made a mental note to remind Lily that there are indeed exceptions to the statement that hunks are not well endowed down there. The throbbing veins looked like they were ready to burst their load, but held in my hand, I felt no warmth, just a cold, rock solid piece of muscle. I could not understand how you managed to get it this hard, and then I noticed a black ring surrounding the base of your manhood.

Suddenly you asked if you could meet me again. I looked into your eyes and nodded reluctantly. I doubted that you meant what you said. I was right in doubting you, coz I did not hear from you anymore since you disappeared into the night in your red Audi. Must be an overdose of raging testosterone that had caused a temporary delusion of … LOVE?

Men are not wired to tell the truth during sex.

BRAVEHEART ^[79]

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