Jobless But Guiltless

It's amazing how resilient some humans can be.

I'm referring to Stanley - who was recently made redundant at work.

Not too long ago, Stanley was lamenting to Carl and me about how he could have had a high-flying career and how he saw himself at the very top some day.

"Now, all I see at the very top is whoever responded to my Grindr messages - and they're usually panting in delight," he said, obviously very pleased with his newfound free time.

"Is that what you've been doing all week? Looking for hookups?" I asked.

"Louder lah, Adam Lee. Louder. My mum cannot hear you," Stanley said, stretching both his arms stiffly towards his room door as if he were Vanna White.

"She's three storeys below. She can't possibly hear you."

"Oh, but she can," Stanley corrected me in a theatrical hush.

"There was one time when she messaged me 'what are you doing', just as the short film I was watching reached the climax. And she was three storeys below."

"I don't want to know the details, Stan."

"Yah, but apparently my mum wants to know."

"Erm, let her watch the 'short film' with you then?"

"Everything okay?" Mrs Monica Ong's voice crescendoed in a sing-song fashion from three storeys down, as if on cue.

"Carl is here," she announced in her trademark loud voice.

Just then, the door to Stanley's attic bedroom opened and in came Carl - followed by Mrs Ong.

"Hello aunty!" I said chirpily.

"Ma, go away!" Stanley said as if he were talking to an annoying little sister. "We're having serious boy talk here!"

"This boy ah. Becoming so agitated since he lost his job. Keep an eye on him for me, won't you," Mrs Monica Ong said to me with an endearing smile before turning to stare sternly at Stanley and said "you better get a job soon. And don't show your friends all those movies you've been watching since last week."

It was Friday evening, and instead of heading off to one of the bars in Tanjong Pagar to waste money, to Carl's credit, he had suggested something sensible: That we gathered at Stanley's four-storey family home to help Stanley save money.

And so, Stanley's study table was laden with rojak, char tow kway, oyster omelette and satay - Stanley's favourite food - from the nearby Chomp Chomp food centre.

"As I was saying, I don't think retrenchment is that bad after all," Stanley said, licking the satay sauce off his fingers. "At least, I now get enough sleep."

"With whom," I responded instinctively.

"Hey, that's mean. I'm still depressed you know. Carl, pass me one more stick."

"What have you been doing this week," Carl asked as he forcefully yanked a satay stick out of his mouth.

"Girl, don't do that. It looks barbaric. Come, let me show you how it's done," Stanley said reaching out for another stick.

"I usually like to hold it in my mouth for as long as possible but in the event that I have to get it out of my mouth, I do it gracefully."

And just like that, normalcy has returned to Stanley's life.

That he continues talking about sex during meal times is a good sign.

As we munched noisily in Stanley's room that night, Stanley quietly updated us with what he'd been up to the entire week.

Or whom he'd been up to.

To our relief, Stanley had indeed bounced back.

Like a bunny.

A very busy, energetic bunny.

Who's been very busy bouncing (in strangers' beds) all week.

And frankly, to me, it's a relief.

Because Stanley is doing all these things guiltlessly.

He's guiltlessly enjoying his free time - sleeping more, sleeping in, sleeping around - without constantly worrying about his future is comforting.

The Stanley I know has been a go-getter.

In National Service, he already knows what he wants: To do well enough in our training so that he can prove to himself that even ah guas can survive CDO training.

He breezed through physical training and was easily a marksman - aim, hold your breath, squeeze the trigger.

He also breezed through physical activities and easily marked men - aim, hold the dicks, squeeze the trigger.

As a working adult, Stanley too, is a go-getter.

Often, Stanley feels that he's wasting his youth - he would sometimes lament that we all needed more than 24 hours so that we can get more work done, earn more money, and catch up with more friends.

Stanley would not entertain my suggestion that maybe he could dedicate less of his time on Grindr or sleeping around for a start.

So the fact that Stanley is now so zen and able to be guiltless about smelling the roses is indeed a comforting thought.

As he famously explained to us that night, "Life is not always a bed of roses. And I love beds. So while I'm at it, I might as well smell the roses too."

Carl looked confused.

So was I, but I didn't voice a word, happy to that the Stanley Ong we know is back.

That he's managed to pull himself out of his retrenchment episode and get back on his two feet.