The date was circa November 2023.
The location -- a new, trendy gay pub in Tanjong Pagar.
The occasion: Celebration.
Carl the dense one had good news.
And because Stanley the sex bunny was bad news, he had suggested we gathered at Sausage Market, then-Singapore's newest gay club to mark Carl's happy milestone.
Our beefcake friend, who had been single for the last 10 years since breaking up with his long-time partner whom we all endearingly call Ah Boy, is finally attached.
And right this very moment, Stanley too, was feeling very attached. His eyes had never once left the bulky package of a tanned beefcake who was exaggerating every of his dance moves which comprise mainly hip thrusts and trunk rotations.
"You think his bulge is real?" Stanley screamed over the resounding music that has only one beat: Boom, boom, boom.
Carl shifted uncomfortably in his tiny bar stool.
Meanwhile, Stanley's love interest was also shifting uncomfortably on stage. The beefcake starting twisting and thrusting his crotch towards Stanley's waving 10-dollar bill.
Carl's eyes widened with shock.
Stanley's mouth widened with instinct.
The crowd roared as Stanley pulled the opening of dancing beefcake's trunks and stuffed his $10 note with slow, deliberate moves as if to match the sultry prancing pace.
"I love sausage market!" Stanley shouted into the beefcake's crotch, who is now $10 richer.
Carl was mortified.
I looked around the dark, noisy room that has beaming laser lights and prayed that my no-longer-young body could handle the disco stress and not collapse into epilepsy.
Stanley, on the other hand, was also praying -- that he could handle that young body and collapse together in bed, hopefully in a bedroom and not a hospital ward, at that rate Stanley was going.
"Stan, stop shouting into his crotch. I can see that the veins in your neck. Any more shouting and they might just pop!" I shouted into Stanley's ears.
Without missing a beat, Stanley reciprocated: "Adam hunny. At this rate that mister beefcake is going, it's not my veins the might be popping."
Hanging out with the boys post-pandemic is no longer fun.
It was refreshing to get out and dress up for a proper brunch, tea, drinks, dinner just right off COVID.
But now that socialising is no longer a taboo, I'm starting to dread crowds, even though the crowd we're currently in, is one that's young, fit, and extremely winsome looking.
Sausage Market is a place Stanley's friends had highly recommended.
Any self-respecting meat lover of the human male body would appreciate the concept -- there'll be boy dancing shows, there'll be dancing, there'll be drinking.
This concept apparently worked.
It had attracted the finest of Singapore's gay crowd and beyond.
A few steps from our table was what looked like a group of young angmoh tourists who are getting quite a bit of attention from two budding skinny SPGs.
In fact, everyone in that club looked like they were below 30.
My boys and I had singlehandedly pulled down the average age of the crowd.
"WOOOOHOOOO!" interrupted the unstoppable Stanley who looks like he wants to single-handedly pull down something else of the young crowd.
"I LOVE SAUSAGE MARKET!" he yelled into the air, matching the decibel and energy levels of the club.
After sitting through 40 minutes of pain, Carl begged us to leave.
Stanley said yes finally because he was satisfied.
We had reached the club just 15 minutes before the slated Boy Dancing show and because we were the oldest and possibly the richest of the crowd, Stanley told the boss that if he gave us a table near the stage, we would open the most expensive cognac that night.
As we walked out, exhausted from watching the crowd and dancers expend their energy, Carl heaved a sigh of relief as if he had just been released from prison.
Stanley heaved a sigh of relief as if he had just released.
"I am too old for this shit," said Carl, who -- thanks to his constant doses of botox -- looked the youngest of us all.
Stanley agreed with Carl readily.
From one meat market, to another meat market.
We soon found ourselves a booth seat at a nearby Korean BBQ restaurant.
"Can I just say, I love meat?" Stanley said to the group, his eyes now trained on the package of a young server.
Stanley was about to reach for a $10 bill when Carl begged him to stop.
Because right now, it was time to hear all about it. The story of how Carl got attached.
And just like that, Stanley easily detached himself from all worldly lust and paid full attention to Carl the dense one.
The story of how they met was not exactly a fairytale set up.
The two had met in a gay sauna.
Stanley was quick to join the dots -- no matter how small or big.
"Please tell me he wasn't the one who gave you STD."
Carl was mortified.
And so was the cute server who stumbled and dropped the menu from his hands.
"Sorry," he said and quickly left as if his hair were on fire.
"Please keep it down, Stan," Carl begged. "And please, Stan," Carl continued sincerely. "Don't judge us ok?"
Stanley put his hand on Carl's and said in all seriousness. "I will never judge my loved ones".
Apparently, Carl -- who had an itch to scratch -- had visited a gay sauna some two years ago.
And itch he did get.
But the STD was soon subdued even though Carl couldn't stop thinking about the source of the sexually transmitted disease.
Soon, Carl frequented the sauna just so he could come face to face with patient zero.
After three visits, Carl tapped him on the shoulder.
The boy's name is Adrian. He was thirty two years old and held an extremely respectable job. A lawyer.
That night, Carl plucked up the courage and asked Adrian out.
Their first date was a late night session of oily French fries and Coke Zero.
Adrian had offered to pay for the meal, to atone for spreading his STD which he didn't even know he had.
One date led to another, but Carl wasn't ready to admit to being in a relationship.
Though he didn't need a fairytale beginning, Carl wasn't ready for a relationship.
Not when Adrian was too similar to Ah Boy who broke his heart 10 years ago.
Adrian and Ah Boy were too similar for comfort.
Both were around the same age, both were of the same built and both equally eloquent.
And so Carl kept guiltily going out with Adrian -- and soon, both stopped going to gay saunas because they finally found what they were truly looking for.
I eyed Stanley, praying he wouldn't say it was STD and to his credit, he didn't.
It took Carl some five months of dating for him to finally realise -- and admit -- that he truly liked Adrian.
And so, a month-plus before Christmas, Carl asked Adrian to officially be his boyfriend.
Which led to this rendezvous of announcing this wonderful news to us.
"Well, I think that's wonderful," Stanley said.
"We all don't need fairytale beginnings -- no matter where or how we meet our partners, it doesn't mater."
"What really matters is the journey," said Stanley, dating guru.
"And we all know from my experience that all relationships can have a fairytale ending. A very happy ending, in my case.
From the corner of my eye, I saw the cute server make a U-turn back into the kitchen upon hearing the words "happy ending" coming out of Stanley's mouth.
Adam's stories are based on real life events and inspired by real people
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