Science of Personalities

I have always thought of myself as an extrovert.

The type who can walk in to a party - any party - and strike a conversation with anyone.

I had a chat about this with my sex bunny friend Stanley, who is also an extrovert.

The type who can walk into a party - "party" - and strike (and stroke) anyone.

This topic comes to mind because of late, I have been revisiting the status of my personality,  thanks to rules that require many of us to stay home and minimise interactions with the physical world.

Am I still an extrovert? Am I an introvert? 

Stanley cannot understand why I am so obsessed with fitting myself into a pigeon hole.

This coming from a man who is himself obsessed with fitting into holes.

All my life, I had been raised to believe that I am outgoing and sociable.

I mean, I tick all the boxes of an extrovert: I have no problems with interaction, I enjoy making new friends, and I make conversations easily with strangers.

Friends would definitely say I'm an extrovert. 

But of late, I have reason to suspect I'm not.

The reason I raise this topic is simple.

If I had mis-categorised myself, have I been living a lie all this while?

Who is the real Adam Lee?

Okay, let's back up a bit.

When I returned to Singapore for the Chinese New Year holidays earlier this year, I had spent almost all my waking hours meeting family, my partner J, as well as all my close circle of friends.

Every day was a happy day filled with good food, good coffee, good alcohol, and definitely good company.

I was in full extrovert mode: Engaging, lively, sociable.

But I found that draining.

I started craving me-time, which I usually have because I do enjoy spending time alone.

When I flew back to Yangon where I'm based, I took two more weeks off just to recover.

My plan was simple. Be alone.

On the plane back, I filled up my calendar with activities.

• Read new novel at a cafe (I had finished Gone Girl by Gillian Flynn back in Singapore and, just to pace myself with crime thrillers, I promptly bought a Cecilia Ahern chick lit)
• Grocery shopping (stock up on food and prepare healthy meals)
• Workout (I miss running near the serene lake outside my condo)
• Massage (there's a cheap and good local massage place where I would do an hour head massage followed by two hours of foot massage... all for less than fifty Singapore dollars)
• Relax at sauna (I go to the one at Sule Shangri-La where, for around 25 Singapore dollars, I get a whole day of me-time)
• Watch movie alone (there's a theatre just downstairs from where I live)
• Sip red wine by my balcony (and write entries for this blog)
• Watch Netflix guiltlessly (and not worry about work)

One week later, all that I did were to wake up in the morning, eat healthy food, laze around the house, decide that I would spend the day watching Netflix and before I knew it, that was all that I had done.

Me-time, sure I did have - after all, I did spend time alone.

But I was cooped up in my home and the longer I stayed indoors, the more lethargic I got.

And I didn't even have the energy to get out of the house.

The more I stayed indoors, the more I realised just how much I loved being alone... but the problem is, I felt drained too.

Therein lies the problem.

Too much of going out with friends drains me. Too much of spending time with myself drains me.

Stanley says maybe the real Adam Lee is Goldilocks who needs to find something that fits me just nice.

Fortunately, I have interfriendtion here in Yangon.

One of my closest friends Claudia - a feisty go-getter from Singapore - decided to drag me out of my me-time coma.

That was in mid-February.

For the first time in weeks, I had actual human interaction.

We both went for a swim (Claudia's also a triathlete so it's not the frolicking, you-splash-me-with-water, I-splash-you-with-water and then we start giggling type of swimming) and then we rewarded ourselves with a spread of burger and beer at a nearby pub.

And boy, did that feel good.

Claudia breaks it down for me.

I'm a mulit-vert who has a switch.

On occasions when I need to be extro, Adam Lee comes out to socialise. On occasions when I'm tired of meeting people, Adam Lee turns off the switch, covers himself with a blanket over his head and snoozes.

But there has to be moderation.

The more I socialise to no end, or the more I keep myself inward to no end, the more I will be drained and self-destroyed, Claudia says, wiping ketchup off her upper lip with the back of her hand.

"So you'll have to get the hell out of your apartment no matter how cosy it is, and actually interact with the elements of the outside world while being alone," she says.

Wise words, even though this guruji in front of me is talking with her mouth full and has bits of beef stuck in her teeth and she's licking her oily fingers dry so that she can take another swig of her beer.

The next morning, Claudia messages me and tells me to "Get out of the house now".

She then posts a photo of herself at the local gym, saying "let's rock the world".

Today, with Claudia's wise words, I finally get it that I'm one who enjoys both indoors and outdoors.

So while I'm stuck at home trying to keep away from COVID -- and enjoying while it lasts -- I too, can't wait for my next party of interaction, when all this is over.

---------------------------

Adam's stories are based on real life events and inspired by real people

COVIDIOTS

"I am fuming and I am not pleased," Stanley said, breathing extremely hard into the phone.

The last time my sex bunny friend breathed this hard into the phone, it was in 2010.

I remember because Stanley had famously given us a blow by blow account of his one and only phone sex engagement.

Right this moment though, it's Stanley's blood pressure -- not hormones nor any form of bodily fluid -- that's shooting through the roof.

"Is it that difficult to follow instructions?" Stanley asked, exerting his breath forcefully again.

"Stan, you need to breathe in and out calmly."

Stanley is very worked up.

Not too long ago, our government came up with a circuit-breaker measure, urging everyone to stay home as much as they can, so that we can stop transmitting COVID19 to one another.

To that extent, our lovely prime minister ordered all non-essential businesses to close and encouraged everyone to please stay the heck at home.

Stanley, who recently found freedom from his Stay Home Notice, was on board.

"Anything to save the country, I will do,", Stanley said.

God bless the drama queen.

"Including adopting all the cute and fit foreign workers from dirty dormitories and nursing them to good health," added Stanley.

God save the drama queen.

Shortly after the prime minister gave a deadline to the partial lockdown, Stanley began receiving messages from friends who asked him to hang out.

One last swim!
One last meal!
One last gathering!

Stanley gave it nicely to all his friends.

"Yes, one last swim. It could also lead to your one last breath. One last meal -- you could well have your wish cone true soon enough: Water drips on your death bed" Stanley wrote on his Facebook page.

I agree with Stanley that there many idiots out there.

Just the other day, I saw a suicide mission at my sister's lift lobby.

A family of seven -- that comprises the young and old -- and five other strangers entered the lift together.

And mind you, the lift isn't exactly huge. And as the doors closed, I watched in horror as everyone stood nearly shoulder to shoulder.

Why don't people feel responsible at all, I really have no idea.

"So, as I was saying," Stanley said in a raised voice but no longer breathing like he was an asthmatic Darth Vader, "I chided two groups of people just now."

Stanley should go around being a safe distance ambassador.

Back in our group chat, Carl the dense one asked how everyone was.

"Staying home and trying to avoid idiots".

Carl didn't reply immediately.

"What about you," I ask.

"Erm…. I'm at the gym... trying to clock in one last workout," our gym rabbit friend wrote timidly.

Stanley didn't reply immediately -- likely because he's counting one to 10 in his inner most zen voice.

"Carl," Stanley began.

"You do know that if you die from COVID that you catch from the gym, Adam and I can't go to your funeral because there's a limit of 10 people for such events right?"

Carl attempted to change the topic into something more light hearted.

"Stan, we can order wine online right? How much was your last order?"

"$250," Stanley wrote coldly.

"Cash?" Carl asked, eager to engage him in another topic.

"No, pebbles," Stanley snapped back.

"Oh," Carl wrote.

"I meant was it cash or credit card," he explained like a hurt child.

"Carl, do us a favour and get the heck out of the gym and back to your home please. Now's not the time to be so flippant about this," Stanley wrote seriously.

"Don't worry, Stan. Everything is fated. If we have to go, we have to go. If it's our time, it's our time," Carl attempted.

"Okay, Dailai Lama," Stanley said, and exited the group chat.

---------------------------

Adam's stories are based on real life events and inspired by real people 

Panic, Panic

Last week, our prime minister gave the whole island a little scare.

Well, he didn't really mean to do it.

At around 2pm on April 3, news alerts flashed on mobile phones across the country.

At 4pm that day, Singapore's PM Lee Hsien Loong were to address the nation on how the sunny island is handling the dark, toxic COVID-19.

The words "further steps" were used in describing how the government would tackle the god-damn virus.

Naturally, the news alert sparked nationwide panic, the way bee colonies would fly in multiple directions if one were to smash a hornet's nest with a hammer.

By around 2.30pm Singapore time, supermarkets across the island were packed with people yet again.

My group chat, Red Berets, which I shared with 30-over friends from our National Service days, was abuzz with fake news.

"Singapore is going on lockdown!" wrote one of our friends Richard, in caps and bold for effect.

"Bro, my wife is at NTUC already," said Chang, the fattest of our group.

Stanley my sex bunny friend who's also my NS pal, couldn't help it.

"What the fuck guys, why's everyone panic buying again," he wrote.

Nobody paid attention to the level-headed comment.

In fact, at that moment, panic had risen to above all recommended levels.

"Bros, Singapore is going to be locked down -- get food NOW!" Ronnie Ng, who seldom posted anything in the group, wrote. And judging by the typos he made, Ronnie obviously was in an unstable state of mind.

At around 2.45pm, another news flash popped up in mobile phones across Singapore.

"NTUC will remain open 'come what may'," was the message.

"GUYS! COME WHAT MAY... IT MEANS SG WILL BE LOCKED DOWN SOON!!!" Came yet another message from Ronnie Ng, whose blood pressure must have shot up for the second time within hours.

Stanley gave up and messaged me separately.

"Are you panic buying Adam?"

Well, my answer is a definitive no, given that at the point of the news flash, I'm still serving my two-week Stay Home Notice and I am bound by law that I cannot step out of my home -- or in this case, my sister's home.

But my sis the typical Type A had been progressively stocking up food and she has 100 per cent faith that when our government says there'll be enough food for all to eat, there will be enough food for all to eat.

"I really cannot understand why Singaporeans -- highly educated as we all are -- would run out to buy and stock up cans of sardines which is by the way one of the yuckiest things on earth, sparked by possible fake news," Stanley wrote, his text obediently reflecting his exasperation.

"At least let the man in pink tell you what's to happen," Stanley said, predicting correctly that our prime minister were to wear a pink shirt in his address later that day.

Just then, Carl our dense friend typed in our group chat "Just the Boys".

"Guys, PM is locking down Singapore," said the clueless Carl, who on normal days cannot name all continents of the world and have no idea who Singapore's health minister is.

"Who's your source," Stanley challenged Carl.

"Did Gan Kim Yong personally tell you that?"

"Who's that?" Carl replied, reverting to his clueless self.

Sadly, fake news and anxiety of a looming lockdown that day had given a lot of people mental breakdown.

Mental being the operative word here.

It's like people had suddenly gone crazy.

In Stanley's office, Pauline Soh the office clerk dramatically proclaimed that she needed to go to NTUC.

"I can starve but my kids need to eat," Pauline shouted as she packed her bag to leave for the day.

Stanley later told the office it's a waste Pauline Soh wasn't scouted by Mediacorp's Channel 8 to be part of the cast of a 1945 period drama on World War II, given that Pauline would need little acting training to portray the role of a hunger-stricken villager who would cry pitifully while munching on a dirty sweet potato in the jungle.

Minutes later, Carl snapped photos of the NTUC he was in, informing us that the supermarket was jam-packed with housewives and grannies who were out on a shopping spree mission, their baskets and trollies filled with food items.

Carl meanwhile, stocked up on eggs, milk, chicken breast and nothing else.

Even in a lockdown, Carl the gym rabbit was determined to get his protein fix.

Stanley later told me that IF Singapore were to really be locked down, and that there would be no food, he'd be happy about it.

"All my life, I had been wanting to be thin. If there's really no food, then I'll really be thin," Stanley said blithely.

At exactly 4pm on April 3, our pink-donning PM started his nationwide address.

The key messages were that for a month, non-essential businesses would close and schools would conduct online lessons.

People can still go out, but they're discouraged to do so.

Stanley later told me he wanted to scream on Facebook, and shame all his fake-news sharing friends.

"But I don't have time now," Stanley said.

"I cannot afford to starve," he said.

"PM's speech may have stopped panic buying but it's sparked my panic fucking," my sex bunny friend explained.

"There's not much time left before all the cute guys obediently stayed at home."

"There's much to do -- I need to tie up my loose ends before next week."

---------------------------

Adam's stories are based on real life events and inspired by real people 

Home Sweet Home

In view of this very dire, very crazy, and especially fluid situation, I found myself getting on board a plane last week from Myanmar to Singapore.

"I'm very excited! Stanley my sex bunny friend squealed the moment I updated him of my movement.

Stanley the slut is always excited by fluid situations.

My bosses had summoned me back for my own safety and I were to return to my lovely country indefinitely.

"Is your job safe?" Stanley asked with concern as I waited to board one of the last few SQ planes flying out of Yangon.

Well, from what I know, my job is safe -- for now. And I'm determined to count my blessings, given that some of my friends in the aviation sector are taking a significant pay cut.

"Well Stan, if I lose my job, realistically, I still have savings," I said.

"If not, I'll just sell my body for money."

"Adam darling," Stanley replied in a dull tone that sounded like an Catholic Convent head mistress about to get impatient with her stupid, naughty girls.

"I don't think you'll make a lot of money -- if not, at all -- from selling your body."

"You'll be better off selling your organs and other useful body parts."

Those were, unfortunately, Stanley's last words to me before I was forced to turn off my plane for takeoff.

And it was the most surreal plane ride.

Everyone was masked.

The crew too.

I can only imagine how they look like beneath their masks -- a task Stanley would certainly excel in given that he sometimes goes as far as to imagine how people's groins look like beneath their pants.

It was a mix of apprehension, anxiety, excitement, relief all at the same time.

I really didn't know which emotion to choose.

"Chicken with noodles or fish with potatoes?" my masked crew who looks more like a surgeon asks.

"Chicken -- and white wine please."

Time flies and soon, I landed at our world's finest, and emptiest airport.

What ensues next was a fair amount of waiting and queuing.

"Waiting to fill up forms," I updated the group.

Stanley, who had served his two-week Stay Home Notice before I did, was quick to offer me tips.

"While you can, take a good look at all the cute men and their packages. Take them all in. It's gonna be a long and dry journey darling," my sex bunny friend advises kindly.

"Gtg... they testing me for COVID".

Stanley was furious.

"Why did nobody swap me for COVID tests when I touched down, I want to know," he demanded.

"I would willingly let anyone swap me -- anywhere in my body -- for samples. In fact, if that swapper is cute I would even recommend he collects other types of samples from me," the obviously sex-denied Stanley continued.

"And Adam, if they take your temperature by way of inserting the thermometer into your anus, I am writing an official complaint letter to the health ministry for unfair treatment."

After what seems like half a day, I was finally out of the airport after having filled up the obligatory paperwork to register myself as a responsible citizen who would solemnly commit to a life of nunnery for two weeks.

I cannot imagine how my two weeks would be like after progressively hearing -- and seeing -- Stanley in various stages of nervous breakdowns during his two-week confinement.

At one point, Stanley admitted he had not showered in four days and had been wearing the same tee-shirt and boxers, proudly telling us that if he so much as to accidentally catch fire while cooking he would rapidly combust because a thin layer of oil and sebum had coated his entire unwashed body.

Fortunately for me, I were to put up at my sister's large designer apartment (god bless her wealth) after she willingly risked her life to have me with her (god bless her health).

So at least, I will be in the company of kin.

I decided it was best for me to stay with her than my partner J, who would have a lot to answer to, if he ever caught COVID from me.

As a welcome-home gift, Stanley imparted valuable advice to me on how to past time.

He even had the cheek to tell me to watch my personal hygiene.

"Adam, take it from me. On some days, you'll feel like life is not worth living for."

"You'll lose the will to do things, like showering."

"You must not give in."

"When I caught a glimpse of myself during my two-week Stay Home Notice, I was horrified," Stanley said.

"My hair was oily and matted and I looked like Medusa."

"I swear if any guy were to look at me in that state, he will turn into stone immediately."

I swallowed my saliva in a gulp, my body's natural response to dealing with shock.

"But now that I'm out and am super well groomed, anyone who looks at me now, will still turn into stone," Stanley said.

"The rock hard kind."

---------------------------

Adam's stories are based on real life events and inspired by real people