Two years ago when my boys and I hit 40, we kept reminding one another that we've truly reached mid life, and we'd only have the next 40 years left, so they'd better be fucking good.
Stanley the sex bunny nodded with approval at the word fucking and wondered if he'd still have the energy and drive for such strenuous activity when he's all crinkled up like a shriveled prune.
Pass the salt please, Stanley says.
Carl the dense one -- who is the fairest and youngest-looking of us all -- curled up like a ball and hid his face between his knees.
"I don't want to be old and crinkly ever," Carl says. I can hear a pout even though his face is buried in his knees.
"Carl, please," I say urgently. "We're very visible in the open."
The three of us were having Sunday champagne brunch at Fullerton Bay just because.
And when you have three very happy gay men with access to free flow alcohol at 11.30am, there is no such thing as subtlety.
Last weekend, we decided to wear nice clothes and be out and about, and Stanley had insisted the day involved alcohol.
Stanley turned up in a newly tailored shirt with prints so loud and colourful you would have thought he's a rich Datuk.
Carl, as usual, is in an apparel that's 2 sizes too small for his bulky frame, and the pick of the day is a white polo tee.
Earlier that morning, while we were still sober and respectable, the three of were led to a cosy corner of the hotel and promptly served welcome drinks.
"This tastes like cough mixture," Stanley said, and raised his hand to place a round of bubbly immediately.
"It's so nice we can afford such meals without having to worry if we'd have enough to eat for the next week," Stanley said, sitting back on his oversized chair.
Carl stopped counting with his fingers and whispered: "This meal can buy me a week's groceries at Sheng Siong!"
As our table was filled with large, silver plates of cold lobster, prawn, mussels and more rounds of bubbly, Stanley set the topic of discussion.
"Have you guys thought about how you want to retire?" he asks in all seriousness.
Gone are the young and dangerous days when Stanley would fill us in over a meal, with sordid details of his sex life.
In our twenties and thirties, when we were young and invincible, every dinner or drinks topic would always revolve around sex.
Stanley's sexcapades.
If
Stanley were to write a book, it would not have passed the censors and
whatever experiences and advice he wishes to pass on to the next
generation of gays would have to be recorded on nifty.org.
That, or oral history, as Stanley would say.
Carl
on the other hand, would definitely make it to the shelves of
Popular bookshop as his book would be a pictorial comic on body
building, the fonts as large as his python sized biceps.
But I digress.
The question of retirement is quite out of character for Stanley but it was no surprise to me because over the years, I've seen my gay best friend grow.
Similarly, I have seen Carl the gym rabbit grow -- from a skinny young lad to this gentle hulk whose currently struggling to dig out lobster meat from a stick-thin claw.
He finally gave up and started sucking noisily on the claw.
My idea of retirement -- as is the idea of the next gay man -- is to have lots and lots of money.
After all, most gay men in Singapore know we'll never have offspring to push us around in our wheelchairs or change our diapers when we feel warm and moist after a particularly heavy breakfast.
And so, we'll always have to be prepared.
Even though I'd been partnered with the most amazing man for the last 20 years and counting, my retirement plans had never solely revolved around J.
Yes, we would retire together (we are after all, just one year apart), but a wise gay man will always plan his life as if he were single.
For me, the baseline would be to keep saving up and keep pace with J who's already a millionaire.
When I first knew J, we were in our very early twenties and the idea of retirement was very fuzzy.
We had both naively thought that we would one day retire in Chiang Mai, after visiting the city in 2005.
We would probably live like kings (and queens) with the strength of our Sing Dollar and we can eat all the Thai food till our very last days.
Years later, my idea of retirement was tweaked.
When I was in university in Australia, I chanced upon a retirement settlement during one of my evening runs.
The sun was setting and along the Brisbane River banks was a row of townhouses.
I watched as elderly couples -- each holding a glass of wine -- slowly made their way down to their front porch, forming a sunset watch party.
That's the kind of retirement I want, I remember thinking to myself as I panted and sweated and continued running away from my future.
As J and I grew older, we would occasionally visit the topic of retirement.
We finally decided that we would both retire, grow old and die in Singapore.
What's important to us, is that we have a sense of familiarity here and there's definitely a sense of belonging to this lovely island.
Our friends, family and loved ones are all here -- and we no longer think it's thrilling to pack our luggage and move across continents and grow roots in a new environment where we can't be sure if we'd be welcomed or not.
J's idea of retirement is soon -- he wants to stop working by 55 latest and make time to do charity work, read all the books he can, and maybe finally write a fantasy fiction novel.
Mine is to wake up in the morning, have my coffee by the balcony, read the papers and then dress up like a true blue ah pek in tattered singlet, shorts and slippers and eat my dry wanton mee in a nearby coffee shop.
Once in a while, J and I will want to host parties for our friends where I will reproduce the Peranakan dishes J's mum taught me and our friends will stagger home slowly with their bellies full.
That's our end goal.
And to do that, we'll have to work backwards: We'll need enough money to do all that we want comfortably.
Retirement planning can either be an exciting or depressing affair.
I'm lucky because J had always been forward thinking and I had always seen him as a role model.
And so, I had worked in retirement plans quite early in my life without realising it.
J said I should load up on the necessary insurance plans once I started my first job -- cover myself for the basics: Hospital, accident, critical illness plans.
And then, the golden rule of saving and saving and saving.
I have also tried to replicate his Monopoly tycoon ways of owning more than one property to churn out rental income that could fund our retirement plans.
And because I had a head start and have an end goal in mind, my retirement planning -- though still work-in-progress -- is rather exciting.
A seat away, Carl stopped licking his fingers and looked to the ceiling, momentarily lost in his own thought.
"Actually, I don't have a retirement plan and I think that's perfectly healthy," our dense friend said a tad too happily, a combination of both his good-natured naivety and his seventh glass of bubbly.
"I guess I have enough money in my CPF, he said. "And when my parents die, I'll inherit half their condo!"
Carl raised his champagne glass at this moment and the three of us toasted awkwardly.
As Stanley set his flute down, he thought openly about his own retirement plan.
Recently, the sex bunny parted ways with a large chunk of his money to buy a 4-room flat which he intended to turn into a beautiful home.
"When you make lifechanging purchases like that, it hits you. Suddenly, your bank account is almost empty after all the reno and furnishing expenses, and you wonder if you'll have enough money for retirement," says Stanley who probably has his name sealed in his wealthy parents' will.
"I plan to clear my housing loan in 5 years and by then, I'll be poor all over again," Stanley says.
Carl gestured to us to lean forward and whispered: "I think I have enough money in my CPF!"
Stanley nodded and gently pushed Carl back into his seat like an impatient parent, and continued: "I might consider renting out the extra room if I need money, but I'll never be rich enough to own multiple properties like J!"
But then again, Stanley reasons, I shouldn't be replicating your retirement plans. I should do what I feel is best for me. And if I focus on saving up money and plonk them into investments to grow my retirement funds, that might work for me too, he says.
Carl looked at me and Stanley and smiled.
"When my parents die, I'll inherit half their condo!" Carl said like a gleeful child, then covered his mouth and giggled guiltily like a naughty school girl.
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Adam's stories are based on real life events and inspired by real people
