Once upon a time, before COVID-19 was born out of bats in Wuhan, Stanley my sex bunny friend had to go for a surgery.
I hadn't been able to be by Stanley's bedside given that I was back then, still based in Myanmar so our dense friend Carl carried the weight on his shoulders -- something our Muscle Mary friend is accustomed to doing on a daily basis.
In fact, about two years ago, the roles were reversed when Stanley took care of Carl, who had gone for a nose job.
And during that time, I too was in Myanmar and so wasn't there for Carl either.
"Seems to me you're always not around when we are being cut up," Stanley said groggily over a WhatsApp video call.
"I've always wanted to be drugged, laid on a table and have a group of curious men hovering around me while I lay near naked. In my fantasy, those men would start untying my clothes and open me up to probe me using kinky equipment, and honestly, I should have been more specific," Stanley managed to say, despite his condition.
To be precise, Stanley had just undergone hip surgery.
Years of sports and running had caused muscle tear at the adjoining inner thigh that meets his groin.
So says Stanley.
Carl looked like he had something to say about Stanley's injured part but decided to take a sip of his diet coke instead.
Stanley had been contemplating the surgery for a few years now.
The doctor had told him that he should go under the knife given that at age 42, Stanley has a good chance of bouncing back quicker than usual.
Always eager to bounce, Stanley the sex bunny eventually decided to being cut up.
"How was it? Are you in any pain?"
Stanley, who looked drugged, gave me a thumbs up.
"I finally did it, Adam. To sleep in a hospital bed," said Stanley, conqueror of sleeping places.
Years ago, Stanley made a strange promise to himself that one day, he would sleep in all sorts of beds -- from hammocks and tents to luxurious mattresses and matrimonial beds (that particular one belonged to the wife of the man he was temporarily sleeping with).
And so, this hospital bed marks an achievement unlocked, Stanley said with a proud beam, his voice raspy from disuse.
Just then, Carl the dense one, to his credit, poured Stanley a glass of water, sensing that our newly awakened friend must be thirsty.
"Thank you Carl dear," Stanley said after several sips, "but my thirst isn't something water can fix."
Carl, who is usually hit and miss, manages to get the joke and rolled his eyes in response.
According to Stanley's surgeon, he would have to rest for a good six months.
No exercise, no exertion.
"I am going to be a very fat man by the time I recover," Stanley said sulkily.
"But that's okay. Fat men have mass appeal and sacks appeal."
Carl, who is usually hit and miss, misses this time and he nods dully at Stanley's joke.
"I'm a grown man in a gown, and my nether regions have just been explored by a group of men who have no interest in my genitals. And I'm told this surgery will keep me from my favourite activity (running) for a while. I am truly at my lowest point," Stanley said.
As if on cue, Carl turned and stared at Stanley's lowest point.
"Carl, stop staring at my --
Just then, Stanley paused.
"Adam... I can't move my toes," Stanley said, his voice revealing terror.
"I guess that's normal," I said. "You were put under, after all".
In spite of himself, Stanley managed to counter me.
"Trust me, I have been put under -- and it feels much more exciting than this. Right now I cant -"
Stanley pauses again, then lifts his blanket and looks inside.
And when Stanley looked up, it was a face of sheer fear.
"Guys... I cannot feel my penis," Stanley said.
Carl didn't know how to react. He cautiously looked at Stanley's numb bits and slowly backed away.
"Adam, I cannot feel my penis. I am not kidding," Stanley said.
To prove his point, Stanley gave his member a good squeeze and repeated.
"I cannot feel my penis".
Carl started to feel nervous.
"Should I call the doctor? There's a cute young doctor on duty -- I saw him on my way here," Carl said.
"Carl Chang! You saw a cute doctor earlier and you're only saying it now?"
Carl looked even more guilty and pouted.
"And no," Stanley warned. "Don't call the cute doctor -- not when my penis can't feel anything. What if the cute doctor decides to squeeze my member and I have no feeling whatsoever?" Stanley said in horror.
"Stan, it's quite normal to not feel your penis after hip surgery," I said, goggling the sad condition that my sex bunny friend is currently going through.
"It feels so strange," Stanley said. "To touch myself and not feel anything at all. It's like I'm touching someone else' penis."
Carl immediately looked down at his own penis, just to make sure it was left alone.
In spite of himself, Stanley managed to say: "Now's the best time to tattoo my penis. And I shall tattoo my full name," said Stanley Sebastian Ong Kok Wai.
Carl, who is usually hit and miss, gets it.
"I think you should just aim for the letters S.O." he said, patting Stanley on his shoulder.
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