Today's topic is gonna be a heavy one.
Carl the gym rabbit, who is obsessed with all things heavy, flexes his biceps, holds his breath, and braces for what he hopes would be a topic about weights. His all-time favourite thing, if not, the only thing he ever cares about.
Stanley, who's busy playing host and filling our large goblets with white wine, contorts his face in what I must assume is him clenching and bracing for what's to come.
Unable to hold his breath and excitement no more, Carl says with glee.
"Are we discussing gym outlets? Or package deals?"
"Amen, sister. Now we're talking," Stanley the sex bunny responds instinctively, triggered by package deals.
Actually, it's about suicidal thoughts.
Stanley gave me a side eye and stopped filling my glass.
"You're not suicidal are you, Adam? If you are I won't give you that much of the wine. It has a 4.3 rating on Vivino," the ever thoughtful Stanley said.
Carl the dense one, on realising it's a topic that involves actual thinking and not lifting, starts to space out and stares glassily into the air.
A few weeks ago, my partner of 20 years J shared with me a conversation he had with his business associate.
"Is he cute?" Stanley asked.
I gave him an evil side eye that's the most evil of all side eye in the history of evil side eyes.
"What. I was trying to excite Carl and bring him into the conversation," Stanley said defensively, and hit Carl's python-sized biceps.
"Yes, yes, I agree," Carl startled and fumbled.
So this associate, let's call him S.
S is a highly successful man -- and might I add, very, very wealthy.
Stanley whistled.
S has a few properties, has no qualms buying timepieces that's worth a 5-month combined salary of a construction foreman, and naturally drives a fancy car whose name doesn't roll off the tongue of a Singlish native speaker.
Amen, sister, Stanley said.
Carl, who is eager to score some participating points, makes the sign of the cross and nods.
S also has it all. A loving relationship that's as long as J and mine.
"Wait," Stanley puts his hands in the air dramatically, as if to summon Time to stop.
"I can already guess the next part of your story -- S is suicidal despite all of that -- but I want to know. Are you actually describing J or his friend?" Stanley asks sincerely.
"Wait a minute," Carl chimes in. "What are we talking about?" he asks sincerely.
It is indeed J's friend -- and thank you for being so sensitive as usual, I nod lovingly at Stanley but immediately regret my choice of word.
Satisfied, Stanley let the sensitive sex-joke moment slip, and allowed me to indulge in the heavy topic that afternoon.
Indeed, the summary is this: That a successful man in health, wealth and love is suicidal.
Turns out, S had been contemplating suicide since last yer due to work stress.
Of course, being a mature and sensible man, S reasoned that he could always quit his job and lead the lifestyle of a monks with no extra needs or wants.
But S said he still can't help but factor in suicide as a last resort.
And S did share this with his partner who was horrified but couldn't do much.
Stanley nodded sagely, processing this heavy update.
Also digesting was Carl, who took a big bite of char tow kueh from Ghim Moh Market.
J found out about S only because he realised S was a bit off of late, and upon digging further, S opened up.
I stole a glance at Stanley to see if he'd pick that up and make a sex joke, but Stanley let it pass.
After all, I would expect Stanley to be serious when talking about mental health issues.
A cousin who's super close to his family is diagnosed with depression and had to grapple with medication, mood swings and eventually, a lonesome life after he cut off all social ties.
"So what did J say?" Stanley asked.
J was naturally disturbed, but he also knew it wasn't in his place to say anything.
In the end, J said he told S that he should consider seeking professional help.
J then called me to make future dinner plans with S at his place.
"We won't talk about suicide," J said. "The idea is to intentionally not visit the topic of suicide until he brings it up -- and making future plans with S gives him something to look forward to. Like a milestone of sorts."
While I am glad J is ever so loving and thoughtful of his friends, I am also troubled by the topic of suicide.
We may never fully understand the extent of mental illness and how it forces people to kill themselves.
Often, those who do take the plunge aren't always the ones who have the least.
Take Leslie Cheung.
The Hong Kong superstar seems to have it all: Good looks, a successful showbiz career, and a longterm relationship with his partner Tong Tong.
But depression robbed him of all senses and eventually nudged him to throw himself off the top of a hotel room.
Carl, who loves Leslie Cheung and has a great voice, lights up at the mention of his idol.
"Not now," Stanley said placing a palm over Carl's face, effectively stopping Time.
Carl slumped his shoulders in great disappointment and grudgingly hummed his favourite Leslie Cheung tune instead.
"My dad once shared in a conversation with his siblings about my cousin," Stanley said. "That when someone mentions he has suicidal thoughts, we shouldn't brush it aside. Instead, we should confront it. Ask that person to elaborate. Talk to him and yes, this may sound alarming, but we should ask him to describe to us how he plans to kill himself."
Carl stopped humming and frowned, unable to tell if Stanley were joking or not.
"But at the end of the day, we're not doctors, counsellors, or psychiatrists, so there's only that much we can do."
Stanley concludes that J is doing the right thing.
That he's doing what he knows best. And that's him being a friend to a friend in need.
===
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