Last week, the boys and I did something quite butch.
We gathered and cheered for our Singapore athletes like any good old bloke would do at the local bar for his favourite rugby team.
"Excuse me, coming through," Stanley sang and cat-walked speedily from his open-concept kitchen to the living room, his hips swaying with fierce momentum. On his left hand was a bottle of red. His other hand held three wine glasses.
"It's great to be back in action -- my hips can gyrate freely without pain," our sex bunny friend said.
Whether he was referring to his hip surgery recovery or his sex life, I cannot really say. Maybe he meant both.
"Did I miss anything?" Stanley asked, setting the wine on the coffee table for our evening show.
Carl the dense one, who is always missing something, stared blankly at Stanley's green lamp.
That evening, the three of us found legal means to meet and dine amid Singapore's strict COVID-19 measures.No dinning out? Never mind. There's always a backdoor loophole somewhere we can explore.
And when it comes to exploring loopholes somewhere -- anywhere -- there is no other expert than Stanley Ong, who had invited us to his bachelor pad to watch the Tokyo Olympics.
At 6.40pm Singapore time, we promptly turned on Stanley's 65-inch TV, an electronic device that has passed the standards of our size queen.
July 29 was the day nearly all Singaporeans had come together to watch the pride and joy of our nation compete in the pool.
Stanley handed out the red wine and we sat back on his couch waiting for action to happen.
On other days, I strongly believe Stanley would also be on his couch waiting for action to happen.
"Wah, what happened to him! How come become so fat!" Carl shouted, spitting out the word fat like it was a clot of phlegm.
To the credit of Carl the dense one, he actually recognised the former swimmer who currently looks like he was trained to throw discuses instead.
On our TV screen was ex-Olympian Mark Chay and sports commentator Mark Richmond.
Carl kept shaking his head at the heavier Mark.
And then came the moment we were waiting for.
The parade of the near-naked men.
First up, swimmer Quah Zhengwen.
It's not every day we have Singaporean Olympians at the sporting platform.
And when it happens, we must be supportive.
Quah got into position and Stanley gasped.
Any young, cute and fit boy who gets into position always takes Stanley's breath away.
"I can't take this," Carl said, panting, his hand clutching his chest.
Stanley took a quick glance and said under such circumstances, his hand would be clutching somewhere else, but there was no time to elaborate.
The horn was sounded.
And Quah plunged into the pool, splashing, kicking, fighting his way to the top.
"Ah-woooo," Stanley let out a cry like he was a hungry wolf.
Under such circumstances -- where there are a handful of young, cute, fit boys, all half naked, all gyrating their way to see who can end first -- it is no wonder that the horn was sounded.
To our disappointment, Quah didn't make it to the top three in the pool.
Stanley, who on most days loves tops, let out a wail, but stopped himself from sliding further down the slippery slope.
There's still Joseph Schooling to look forward to.
The joy and pride of every Singapore mother, the prince charming of every straight Singapore girl and gay boy.
When the defending Olympic champion took position, all three of us held our breaths.
From the corner of my eye, I saw Carl patting his own biceps out of pure envy.
"I'm sending you luck," Carl said forlornly at the TV screen.
Stanley meanwhile bit his lower lip out of pure lust.
"I'm sending you something that rhymes with luck," Stanley said to his 65 inch device.
The horn sounded.
And all three of us held our breaths.
Well, two of us.
Stanley was standing up, pushing his own hips forward as if that very action could help Schooling.
"Yes, yes, YES, SCHOOLING!" Stanley said, making disturbing bedroom noises while continuing to make pronounced thrusts to match Schooling's rhythm.
It was a scene no child should ever see.
Carl nervously stamped both his feet. "Faster, faster!" he said.
"Yes, faster! Don't stop! Don't stop!" Stanley said with meaning.
In life, a lot of humanly things can be done in under one minute, and right now, the handful of fit, fierce men in the Tokyo pool are trying to swim one loop, using their powerful hips and arms.
It is no easy feat.
20-over seconds passed, and we see Schooling trailing behind his competitors.
"Is it his tactic? Is he going slow and then going all out with a youthful burst?" asked a hopeful Stanley who is always energised by youthful bursts.
Carl couldn't say a word.
There was fear in his eyes, and Carl looked like he could collapse from stress by just watching the intensity of the competition.
And then, it was all over.
53.12 seconds.
The match was over.
The cheering was over.
Joseph Schooling's Olympic dream was over.
He swam slower than his own 50.39-second world record back in 2016.
Stanley slumped into his sofa theatrically and started to wail.
A meltdown was happening there and then, and I swear it's not just in Stanley's living room.
Carl the dense one took a sip of his red wine, his eyes shifty. "Okay, let's eat dinner," Carl said, his eyes settling on the dining table behind us.
But... but... what went wrong?
In 2016, the whole world was shocked when a Singapore boy made literal waves in the pool and created a world record.
Stanley continued to wail as if Schooling had broken up with him.
Carl was already reaching the dining table amid the drama.
As the three of us sat down at Stanley's dining table to eat what would have been a celebratory feast, our sex bunny raised his glass.
"To Schooling, to Quah, to all Singapore athletes."
Carl, who was confused as to why we're toasting when none of our fellow pink-IC-holding athletes were winning any medal, took Stanley's cue and clinked glasses.
It was clear that all Carl wanted to do was to move on. Olympics cheering done, dinner next. Faster, faster.
There will be backlash, Stanley the Oracle predicted.
People will talk.
People will slam.
People will criticise the hell out of Schooling for disappointing the whole nation.
I nodded sadly.
Carl nodded too. "Mmmm, this fried chicken is really good."
Every four years, an athlete's dream is born -- or dashed -- at the Olympics.
In 2016, Schooling did us proud.
And even though he didn't do well this time round, he'd be glad to know that majority of us non-Olympians will be rooting for him.
"Let's hope he doesn't get fat," was all Carl had to say as he licked his greasy fingers and reached for another KFC drumstick.
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