Fabulous Forty

In just a few months' time, Stanley my sex bunny friend and I will turn a ripe old age of 40.

Believe it or not, our birthdays are just one day apart.

Stanley and I used to say that the two of us first met when we were newborns at KK Hospital.

Our mothers possibly nodded politely at each other as they waddled heavily along the hospital aisle, days before letting their respective babies squeeze through their tunnel - the only times that their precious sons would ever come in contact with such a body part.

"We need to chart the big day in great detail," Stanley enunciated crisply that night, sounding like he were an important official who just got appointed to plan the next Trump-Kim Summit.

Carl our dense friend was totally lost.

"Who's Trump Kim?" he demanded to know, eager to find out if he belonged to a new Korean pop band.

These days, Carl's latest obsession was googling Korean pop stars because he was once again researching cosmetic surgery.

Stanley couldn't be bothered to engage Carl, who once insisted that the capital of Malaysia was Penang.

After all, the three of us had limited time together - I was back in Singapore for a short holiday, and Stanley had expertly inserted himself (as usual) in between my intensive meet-ups with many of my Singaporean loved ones.

The three of us were at Rail Mall, one of the places Stanley and I loved hanging out (Stanley lived near my mum's place so we sometimes cast a majority vote and force Carl to comply, just for our convenience).

Carl, who was determined to find out how good looking this Trump Kim person was, set his wine glass down and began tapping furiously on his phone.

"It is with utmost importance that we marked our milestone year with oomph," explained Stanley, Birthday Planner. "And we must do it together. In style".

When Stanley and I were 21, we marked our coming of age separately.

He was visiting his sister Cindy Ong in the UK, where her sister, in Stanley's words, was busy but effectively squandering their family wealth by spending four fun years there without graduating.

I on the other hand, squandered my family wealth by booking a chalet and hosted three fun nights of parties, each session a different theme with different groups of friends.

It was only when we turned 22 that Stanley, Carl and I became closer, and we promised each other then, that we would celebrate all milestone birthdays for one another in future.

When Stanley and I turned 30, we had a combined grand birthday dinner at a rooftop restaurant at the then-Scarlet Hotel, attended by our closest friends.

When it was Carl's turn, we surprised him with a birthday party at Tea Garden MacDonald's.

There were balloons, lots and lots of French fries, birthday hats, loads of Macho Marys with micro singlets and absolutely no children.

Our dense friend was so happy that day.

At age 40, Stanley insists that the scale of the party must be increased with age.

"We're no longer sweet young things. We're not that old either. We're in between - which means we have the spending power," Stanley said.

"We must spend."

"EEW," Carl said in shock.

"This two-man Korean pop band looks hideous," he said. "I wonder who did their plastic surgery."

That night, we allowed Stanley to dominate the table - a role he seldom takes on, but when he does, he takes full control.

According to Stanley, the three of us must make a blood pact and swear that we would stick to the plans or suffer serious consequences.

There and then, at Rail Mall, amid other very happy customers who're tipsy with expensive red wine, Stanley presented to the board his grand proposal.

It would involve not one, not two, but three full days of celebrations - an indication that turning 40 is a bigger deal than how the government views CNY, which is assigned only two days of public holiday.

Stanley's grand plan would also involve not one, not two, but many stacks of cash.

A two-night stay at Marina Bay Sands.

Shopping spree at the malls. Brunch at one of the Italian restaurants on the 50-something-floor roof top. A massage somewhere. A decidedly expensive dinner at C'est La Vie. Dancing like we're in our 20s at the roof top bar later.

And showing lots and lots of skin at the Infinity Pool.

"And so the planning must start now," Stanley looks us in the eye with conviction.

"If we were to show that much skin, we have to work backwards and schedule gym plans so our bods are hot," Stanley said.

Carl the Gym Rabbit rubbed his hands in glee, excited by the proposal brought forth by Stanley the Sex Bunny.

I whined out loud.

Yes, it's important that we all celebrated big birthdays because, hey, it's a milestone.

When Old Mrs Lee turned 70, my siblings and I combined forces and threw her a grand party, each trying to cheekily outdo the other with gifts and wishes.

There was a lot of laughter and food and wine at Spring Court that evening.

But that night, back in my old bedroom in my mum's place, I thought seriously about birthdays.

Birthday parties... does size matter?

Well the short answer is yes.

But if we were to draw up a graph, it would look like several mountains put together side by side.

Birthday parties typically start at one month old. And between the ages one and, say 12, every year is marked by family parties. The graph hits a high at 21. And then the pace slows down until, say, 30. It lulls again and from then, it peaks once every decade - 40, 50, and so on. 

In the Lee family, we pay a lot of attention on birthday milestones.

I remember seeing numerous old, yellowed photos of birthday parties for my siblings and me.

Typically,  one of us would be on the table with a huge cake in front of us. And then there''d be a separate table where kids aren't allowed to crawl on, 'cos they're laid out with huge plates of food.

For some reason, there's always bee hoon in those old family photos of ours.

And while it is important to mark our birthdays with some form of celebration, my question to myself is, so what happens after that?

I ask this because in Myanmar, the country I'm now residing, birthdays are viewed very differently.

For them, birthdays are not about the birthday boy or girl.

It's about giving back to society.

It's common practice that the birthday boy or girl wakes up very early in the morning to make donations and merits at the temple.

The birthday boy or girl would then buy friends and family a meal.

And thereafter, it's a day of reflection and being especially compassionate that day.

I shared my thoughts with Stanley and Carl in our group chat.

"I think I'm excited about the birthday bash, but let's set aside some time during those three extravagant days to reflect on our lives... and what we want to achieve in the next forty years?"

Carl the dense one replied with an OK icon.

Stanley, who was way too busy with the Fabulous Forty birthday planning, recorded an audio reply.

"Are you Adam Lee or the Dalai Lama," he said.

"Whoever you are, get out of my friend, you Demon!"

And in the next message: "Oh, wait... if anyone is ever inside Adam, it's J. And J is no Demon".

And in his final audio recording, Stanley says: "But yes. I agree - we should spend a lot of money on the party, but we should also spend a lot of time reflecting.

"But Adam Dear, we have a whole lot of time to think about our next 40 after we celebrate it in style.

"And all I want to do is to mark my birthday with a bang. Or maybe two or three, depending on my Tinder matches.

"And when I turn 40, I want to give my candles on my cake the biggest, the best blow I've ever given.

"And then I'll have my cake and eat it."



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