For the first time in a very, very long time last Saturday, I stepped out of my shell and met actual people.
Since April, I had been overloaded with work and in all honestly, I simply loved it.
To me, there is joy to be found in working overtime in the office and eating dinners out of takeaway boxes while typing in between sloppy mouthfuls.
It felt like university all over again.
One of my happiest memories in Uni was sitting down at my desk one night after months of poring through academic books and research to start writing my dissertation. I started at 8pm with a bowl of Japanese curry rice and before I knew it, it was 8am the next day, my late dinner only half eaten.
But the immense satisfaction, the adrenaline rush of seeing the fruition of my hard work coming together, was the start of my addiction to work.
Yes, it's hard for the 99 per cent of the people I know to believe, but it is possible to love work even if it takes a toll on your youth.
It's a blessed bonus too, that after years of honing my skills at my job, I not only love what I do, but also do very well at it.
And it's that sweet spot that keeps me going. Not so much the monetary rewards that often come along with it.
But my addiction to work has a downside to it.
When I throw myself into work, I plunge deep.
So deep that those watching from ashore worry that I might drown while at it, and the very next time they see me would be when my bloated corpse is scooped up by naval divers.
"Oh, that would be a dream come true," Stanley my sex bunny friend said. "To be grabbed by the lean and fit boys from the elite NDU, who would respectfully and lovingly lay you down," he continued, putting a morbid twist to getting laid.
Carl the dense one, who always misses the point, blinks and asks "why is your work related to the ocean, Adam?"
That Saturday -- the first in months -- was the only day I felt well enough to meet my loved ones.
During my intensive few months where I focused on work with burning concentration, I had shut out all my friends.
Even my partner J.
God bless him -- you're very lucky to have such a supportive partner, best girlfriend Nisa would say.
Indeed.
I hadn't seen J mainly because I kept cancelling not only on him, but also his family who would always have me over for their weekly dinners.
On one weekend, I had again stood J and his family up. That evening, after their hurried dinner, J's family drove to my office and brought me warm food.
I am thankful that I'm loved, but, as some of my closest friends would say, it is a choice I made: That I choose work over loved ones.
And that is cruelly true.
When it comes to people, my priority list is as follows: Me, J, family, close friends.
When it comes to my priority list in general, it is: Me, work, workout, J, family, close friends.
"It's a fucked up list you know that right," Stanley said shaking his head, pouring himself more Chardonnay.
Carl densely goes with the flow and pours himself some, nodding at his fast-filling wine glass.
"The way I see it, it's a glass is half full situation," I said to my closest gay friends of more than 25 years. "Because you and I have different perspectives where this is concerned".
Indeed, Carl is concerned. He stops pouring and frowns, studying his wine glass, bothered by my remark and wondering what's wrong with his glass.
Bothered -- and annoyed -- too, was Stanley.
"All I'm saying is, if you choose to put work ahead of you -- and you have all the right to do that -- then don't regret the day when you're done with work and none of us are there for you."
Carl the dense one, who also has the attention span of slow pigeon, looks up and asks "Where are we going?"
Stanley, who's always been there for me through thick and thin, has a point.
And I know that people's patience isn't limitless and if it were to compete with how I embrace work, eventually, they'll drop out of my life, tired to always be the bridesmaid.
That Saturday afternoon, over brunch at Serangoon Gardens, I looked at my table of loved ones and reminded myself of how lucky I am.
There's Stanley who's fast making his wine disappear; Carl who's now making himself busy by trying to fork up the microbits of crumbled cake on his plate, and J. My pillar of strength. My partner of more than 20 years who has always stood by me no matter what.
I've just emerged from Q1 amid my intensive work project -- and taking the time to catch up with my loved ones.
Soon, I'll plunge back into Q3 and 4 which will see me work non-stop till the end of the year.
While I know that I can do my deep dive without worrying that my loved ones ashore will forsake me, I wonder how selfish I am to put them on the sidelines as I enjoy my work with abandon.
That afternoon, I found some assurance.
J squeezed my hand under the table, and said "focus on your work -- don't do a half-baked job. I'll be here for you. I'm not going anywhere."
Carl gave up.
"Sorry, but where are we going?" he asked, his clueless eyes begging for some sort of closure
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