Carl's Junior

Today, this post is about Carl, our dense friend.

Carl Chang, 38 / 172 / 68 / flex.

Flex being the operative word.

Carl is he with the big muscles but he with brains the size of Mister K's weener.

We interrupt here with some context:

Stanley had once met a certain top, Mister K, on Grindr and was about to engage in some fruitful fun with him when Mister K whipped out his member which didn't indicate much fruit nor guarantee much fun. 

True enough there was no grand entry that night though we concluded that the very reason for that, was that a giggly Stanley had insisted on taking a photo with Mister K's small organ. "Let's take a weener-fie. It's for archival purposes," Stanley had explained to an unsmiling Mister K.

But enough of small talk.

Like I said, our focus today is on Carl, our dense friend.

Mainly because last Tuesday was a special anniversary to Carl:  His anniversary with Ah Boy, his partner, who was 11 years younger.

For the longest time, all of us had embraced that generation gap.

Stanley the sex bunny of the group was the first to take that lead.

"Oh, I love gaps. They're very lovely. They need to be embraced. Worshipped," Stanley said as he rapidly licked an unseen object in the air. That year was 2005, the year when a nervous Carl revealed to us that he was dating a boy 11 years our junior.

I remember Carl being very relieved with Stanley and my approval and support that day.

I also vaguely remember Stanley standing up to imitate Beyonce by shaking his buttocks as a sort of congratulatory tribute to Carl. 

And there began the whirlwind romance of Carl and Ah Boy.

Despite almost 10 years in age difference, the two got along very well.

They did happy things together. They did coupley things together. They had tons of movie dates. For the longest time. Until December 2014.

"Adam, we broke up," I remember Carl's shaky voice over the phone in late-December that evening.

Stanley was immediately activated.

We each took five minutes to get dressed. Stanley scooped me up in his car (he lived just seven minutes' drive from me) and we met at Holland Village, near Carl's home.

Over coffee at the now-defunct Coffee Club, Carl shared the gist of his story.

I never knew he had been so unhappy with me. I mean, we had arguments. Small ones. And sometimes the big ones - like how he dislikes it when I demand that he focused on his studies when he wanted to go out to party, or how he disagreed with the way I spent money. But I never knew that he had been so unhappy with me for the last nine years.

Carl was unusually expressive and his hands were exceptionally nimble, busy between gesticulating with passion and pinching the tip of his nose as if that very action could control the flow of his tears.

Stanley and I sat and listened very quietly that night at the cafe,  pausing only to grunt with approval.

"What hurt the most was, Ah Boy finally told me why he loved watching movies with me," Carl said in a voice that suggested he had just been kicked in the gut.

"Because when we watch movies, he doesn't need to talk to me. He says it's a struggle to talk to me because we are in such different worlds."

The words hit us like they too, had punched us in the gut.

Ah Boy's words hurt Carl.

And in turn, Carl's conveyance of those words carried that same painful punch.

That night ended at 1am when we were finally chased away by an exhausted Pinoy waitress who looked like she was about to break down - but from very different reasons to Carl's.

But we decided the night didn't deserve to end so unceremoniously - being chased away with half-finished sob stories and recovery plans and hugs yet to be rolled out.

Armed with tissue boxes, mineral water and condoms (Stanley just had to add that purchase at the very last minute at 7-11 because "aiyah, since I am here, I might as well stock up!), we took our commiseration into Stanley's car where we chatted till 3.15am that morning, never mind that each of us still had work the next day.

"You know," Stanley said in an unusually serious tone. "When you love somebody, you have to let him go. He's already said he didn't love you anymore."

Carl responded by staring into the distance.

Truth is, Stanley and I had already noticed the drift sometime in 2013, the year before the break up.

Whether it was Carl's denseness or denial in not recognising that drift, we don't know.

It wasn't so much that they had such a big generation gap.

It was more an emotional gap, Stanley and I had discussed and agreed privately.

Carl was well into his career and was enjoying the finest things in life while Ah Boy was still struggling to do well in university, juggling not just school work but also guest-starring in Carl's adult world of expensive parties, exorbitant gym clubs, luxurious tours.

To Carl, he felt that he was giving Ah Boy a leg up in life.

To Ah Boy though, it was detrimental because he felt like he was yanked out of adolescence and thrown into the expensive adult world without warning.

I imagine it must feel like a secondary school boy being yanked out of his classroom after school to help out at his father's stall and get an ugly glimpse of adulthood.

But because Carl loved Ah Boy, he showered him with all those material incentives only an accomplished adult could attain.

During one of the private post-break-up talks with Ah Boy, Stanley and I learnt that while the undergrad had appreciated Carl's gestures, he didn't fully like them.

Sure, it was nice to feel rich and pampered, but it wasn't really his own money, Ah Boy said.

And if I tell him, we quarrel, he said.

Over time, Ah Boy quietly hated Carl for being in a different world.

He wanted Carl to understand the struggles of a university student.

That his life is just as challenging.

That it can be tough paying attention in lectures and then having to decide which food court to eat at after school. Or whether he should bring a sweater to Starbucks for group discussion. Or for Carl to simply understand why it's so essential to get together after exams and get intoxicated and dance with your group project mates.

Problem is, Carl has been there, done that.

In fact it was so long ago that Carl had either a) realised there is no value and wisdom in those activities or b) can no longer empathise with any undergrad because he's forgotten what it felt like.

And speaking of long ago, it took Carl a very long time to get over Ah Boy.

In fact, just the other night at PS Cafe at Dempsey, the topic of relationship came up again.

And I swear I saw the flame go out in Carl's eyes when that topic came up.

Sensing potential climate change, Stanley quickly cut in.

"When in a relationship, it's important to grow together," he said wisely.

"For example, when someone enters me, he grows. I also grow. And we enjoy the thrusting and gyrating," he continued, signalling climate change with the switch of his topic.

"But if two people can't grow together, then they grow apart," Stanley said, switching back to serious mode again.

Sometimes, it's hard to catch up with Stanley but this time, he made a good point.

As we talked about relationships that Saturday night, we reinforced one important value:

That couples must help each other to grow for the better - to improve the quality of each other's lives.

If a couple sucks the energy out of each other and fills that void with exhaustion, that's a sign of a doomed relationship.

"But your argument is flawed, Adam," Stanley corrected me.

"A couple can still suck each other dry and still fill that void with exhaustion, and it can be a very good thing," Stanley said with a cheeky smile.

To which, Carl laughed.

And just like that, I knew that Stanley and my effort in momentarily counselling Carl over the past three years, had been worth it.

And we will always be there for Carl, our dense friend.