The New Prime Minister

It isn't General Elections. It isn't even the National Day Parade.

But it's still the event of the nation -- the swearing in of our new prime minister.

So two weeks ago, the boys and I gathered at Stanley our sex bunny friend's spacious and cosy Queens Close flat for a watch party. 

At 6:30pm Singapore-Hong Kong time, a "very cute" Grab delivery rider passed us our tze char orders.

Stanley the sex bunny gave him five stars solely based on his looks.

"I only wish Grab gave us other rating options too. Like, you know, assessing their drivers on Q&As, followed by the swim suit round," he said, setting the plastic bag of food on his table.

But there was no time to ponder on Grab's rating system right now.

"Hurry up," the bossy Stanley yelled as he commanded Carl the dense one and me to set the table.

That evening, we were to have an after-work dinner at Stanley's followed by wine as we tuned in to the country's most watched event: The swearing in ceremony.

"Fuck, he's cute," Stanley said, getting into the mood of the swearing in ceremony.

To prove his point, Stanley shoved his phone in our faces.

A black-and-white video featuring a very young Lee Hsien Loong was playing on his IG reel.

Carl the dense one was fascinated. 

"He's such a twink! So young, so handsome, so full of drive," said Stanley who went on to constructively suggest that in our upcoming General Elections, the government should seriously consider letting voters assess their future leaders and MPs based on looks, Q&As and the swim suit round.

"I'm so sad for PM Lee," said Carl the dense one who cannot name all past prime minsters of Singapore.

"And why's that so," Stanley challenged.

"It's... a demotion," said Carl in a timid tone.

Stanley didn't want to waste time engaging Carl so he made full use of his life by filling everyone's glasses with red wine (Rioja).

"I actually feel happy and sad for Loong," Stanley said, referring to our ex-prime minister as if they were Bosom Buddies. 

"If he weren't the son of LKY, he may not have needed to choose the life of politics," said Stanley, political commentator.

"Agreed," said Carl, who has no idea what he's agreeing about.

"Wow, Lawrence Wong's wife is hot," Stanley said. They're going to make a goodlooking couple on the international stage.

"I think this person is cute," Carl said pointing to the screen as the camera panned to Xie Yaoquan, one of the youngest and most muscular lawmakers. 

"I will sleep with him," Stanley agrees, adding "I also don't mind Tharman. I love men in power".

"You don't mind a lot of people, Stan," I cut in. "Men in top positions, or sideways or even bottom -- you'll take them all."

Stanley pouted as if he were hurt and then said "Oh, Joseph Schooling is in the crowd."

He shook his head. "Didn't the fella take drugs? Can he even enter the Istana?!"

Carl -- who doesn't read the news nor keep up with current affairs -- has absolutely no idea what we're talking about. He proceeded to sip his Riojia and watch out for other muscular guests at the Istana. 

While the boys and I aren't exactly fans of the politics, Stanley would always find ways to gather the boys.

But that evening's gathering meant differently to some of us.

For Stanley, it was the end of the charming Lee Hsein Loong's era.

"I've always found him very handsome," Stanley repeated for the umpteenth time, licking his lips. 

"And he truly deserves the nation's love," he added, giving the word love unhealthy emphasis. 

"But what I cannot stand, is how every Tom, Dick and Harry are posting photos and tributes to him as if he were dead," Stanley said.

Carl looked up from his phone, tilting his head as if to ask who died, then decided he would fare better in his iPhone game than to ask us anything.

Indeed, our past week's social media posts had been filled with people posting photos with Mr Lee.

"I conclude that for this bunch of pathetic losers," Stanley said, "it's not about their tributes. It's about showing off they once had a close brush with our charming leader," Stanley said caressing his chest. 

For Carl, it was like he was an alien who just landed on earth and is taking this chance to absorb new information.

"So... this person is our new prime minister?" the dense one asked, pointing at Tharman who's strolling in to the Istana.

For me, what struck me was that our new PM is taking a lot of effort to show he's one of us. 

That he's not blue blood.

That he, like us normal Singaporeans, have normal parents who work, and a normal childhood and could afford overseas education only because of a scholarship.

Stanley pointed out that all three of us are way luckier than Lawrence Wong given that we all were born into relatively well to do families who didn't have one parent work as a cabbie or hawker and squeezed into one-room flats and who all come with sob stories.

Then again, we didn't make it as prime minister, did we?

My point is, PM Wong made it very clear that he's his own man. One who embodies meritocracy.

This point struck home big.

He has to prove he is his own man -- that if you work hard, you will get there.

What's more, he's born in the 70s, like all of us.

Would that mean he would know best, what our generation is going through, and thus, be more mindful of the needs of our generation with his policies? 

By the 45th minute of the swearing in, Carl was visibly bored.

He dozed off. 

Stanley asked me how I envisioned a Singapore under PM Wong.

I shrugged.

I hope he is grounded.

The fact that he makes a great show and tell of his humble beginnings and his promise to listen to us, and for our "hopes to inspire" him and our "concerns to guide" him, I certainly hope he does his best. And stays on track.

No matter which leader takes the helm, the key is for him to do what's best for us.

Stanley says he likes that PM Wong wants to make Singapore a place for everyone to feel happy in, as long as we worked hard.

And when Stanley didn't throw in a sex joke, I knew he was serious.

Carl, confused to the max and bored to tears, did his very best to join the conversation.

"So, if you guys were in the Cabinet, what positions do you all want," he asked. 

Without missing a beat, Stanley replied.

"I don't know if I'll be in the Cabinet -- I'm long out of the cabinet or any closet. But if I were to choose a position..." Stanley paused and left it hanging. 

Carl was finally engaged for the first time of the evening.

He laughed and raised a toast to all of us.

"And to Singapore. May it prosper," Carl said, adding "Happy National Day!"

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

Mother's Day Special

The Lees were out and about last week in the name of the Mother.

And because Mrs Lee loves her Chinese food and tradition, we ended up once again at Spring Court as with all other Lee occasions, this time being Mother's Day.

"Ah, Lei Tai!" the elderly valet bellowed at our mum as soon as she was spotted outside the Chinatown restaurant. 

Oh, yes. Our mum, a retired publisher and now full-time social butterfly, is a regular at Spring Court and she's affectionately known as Lei Tai -- or Mrs Lee -- to the Cantonese staff there. 

Satisfied that she's given the grand VIP treatment for all her useless children to see, the grand dame coyly waves off Valet Uncle's affection while turning to our direction just to be sure we registered this fantastic fanfare.

Younger brother Barry, also the one with the most mischief genes among us, literally slow-clapped for our mum's outstanding performance. 

"Wah. Only 11am and already so packed," eldest sis S remarked.

"When you're old and still gold, that's what happens. People will still recognise you for that," replied Mrs Lee, her choice of words and tone suggesting it was a teachable moment to all three of her kids who're waiting to inherit her blood, sweat and tears -- her own reference to money. 

"I love your mum," my sex bunny friend Stanley said when I relayed this over to him via text. "And going by her Spring Court principles, then I'm hot property!"

Lunch that day with Mrs Lee was a decidedly elaborate affair.

My Lee siblings and I decided that we would go all out -- and so we ordered mum's favourite popiah and half a suckling pig, followed by Buddha Jumps Over The Wall, bird's nest, abalone and a bunch of other less costly items. 

Mrs Lee was suitably impressed. 

Over the years, she's come to be more accepting of our generous overtures, no longer resisting our extravagant offers such as paid holidays, luxury bags and expensive treats. 

And it must be so refreshing for her especially since I've graduated from buying her "Prada" at Bangkok's Pratunam wholesale market to an LV at an actual, legit boutique. 

All her life, Mrs Lee dedicated her time and energy to her children.

And it wasn’t easy — not when our “heartless father” (as our mum would sometimes refer to him) left us when we were mere kids. 

Technically, my mum wasn’t wrong.

Our dad Mr Lee died of a heart attack so he was in a way heartless. And he did indeed leave us. 

My sis was only 7, and I 4 and younger Barry 2, when this happened. 

I think among us kids, my sis was hit the hardest. She had both the intellectual awareness and emotions to handle the situation.

I distinctly remembering that I had the intellectual awareness but not the emotions. 

At the wake, the adults — one of my most annoying and loud aunties — asked me “where’s your daddy?”

I remember answering her “daddy is dead.” 

I knew as a 4 year old that daddy would no longer come back. That much I knew. What I didn’t have the capacity to know, which is a blessing, is the emptiness, sadness, and pain of losing a dear one, the way adults with emotions would be subjected to.

In retrospect, that loud aunty of mine ought to be cremated alive along with my father for being so cruel to a child but all is forgiven. 

Youngest brother Barry, on hindsight, is perhaps the most fortunate of the lot if fortune can be counted this way. He didn’t have any pain nor memories but that in itself can be painful — Barry didn’t know our dad well enough to miss him. 

But what we lacked in a dad, we found in our mum. 

And it was through Mrs Lee that all three of us turned out the way we were.

Mrs Lee threw herself into work, making sure she could scale the corporate ladder to earn enough to feed her kids. 

She made sure she gave us all we needed: Food, attention, swimming lessons, martial arts classes, whatever she thought could give us a leg up in life.

While she slogged at the office at her publishing firm on week days, our eldest sis appointed herself as surrogate mum, bossing us around to do our homework and to shower after school and eat our pre-cooked meals. 

I remember hating her for her bossiness but whenever she slipped back into her childhood and became my sister, I forgot all about it and we were kids. 

Today, S always thinks five steps ahead of any situation and has every contingency plan thought of. 

She's also caring and still bossy.

Barry, being the baby of the family, grew up sheltered and protected not only by our eldest sister but also me. 

He was, as a result, fearless because he knows he can venture out to do anything and have us as safety net.

As for me, I'm a middle child. 

It also means I am on middle ground, having the benefit of observing the actions of the older and younger sibling, waiting to see what I should and shouldn't do to avoid punishment or effect reward.

My sharp observation skills were perhaps my strength as a child.

I watched how Mrs Lee would always laugh at herself in any situation. As kids, we were always brought to her office -- and we had a glimpse of our mum at work, from her day-to-day life to company events and D&Ds.

I found that mum was always surrounded by people who were eager to talk to her, laugh with her.

This became the premise of my character. 

Be a Mrs Lee who is always cheerful, easy going and be surrounded by people who are attracted to you because you're always very pleasant. 

Mum retired at an age when all three of her children were doing extremely well.

All graduates, all earning decent salaries, and most importantly, all willing to splurge and return the love plenty-fold, the way Mrs Lee had expended her love unto us.

It was one of the heartiest meals in a while for our family given that I, the black sheep of the family, am always so busy.

As we lumbered our way to the ground floor, the elder Valet Uncle lit up.

Barry the cheeky one also lit up.

"Ooooo.... somebody's smitten," he said a little too loudly for everyone to hear. 

"Father's Day celebrations at Spring Court next year," Barry informed the family.

 

 

 

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

Addicted to Work

For the first time in a very, very long time last Saturday, I stepped out of my shell and met actual people.

Since April, I had been overloaded with work and in all honestly, I simply loved it.

To me, there is joy to be found in working overtime in the office and eating dinners out of takeaway boxes while typing in between sloppy mouthfuls.

It felt like university all over again.

One of my happiest memories in Uni was sitting down at my desk one night after months of poring through academic books and research to start writing my dissertation. I started at 8pm with a bowl of Japanese curry rice and before I knew it, it was 8am the next day, my late dinner only half eaten. 

But the immense satisfaction, the adrenaline rush of seeing the fruition of my hard work coming together, was the start of my addiction to work.

Yes, it's hard for the 99 per cent of the people I know to believe, but it is possible to love work even if it takes a toll on your youth.

It's a blessed bonus too, that after years of honing my skills at my job, I not only love what I do, but also do very well at it.

And it's that sweet spot that keeps me going. Not so much the monetary rewards that often come along with it.

But my addiction to work has a downside to it.

When I throw myself into work, I plunge deep. 

So deep that those watching from ashore worry that I might drown while at it, and the very next time they see me would be when my bloated corpse is scooped up by naval divers.

"Oh, that would be a dream come true," Stanley my sex bunny friend said. "To be grabbed by the lean and fit boys from the elite NDU, who would respectfully and lovingly lay you down," he continued, putting a morbid twist to getting laid.

Carl the dense one, who always misses the point, blinks and asks "why is your work related to the ocean, Adam?"

That Saturday -- the first in months -- was the only day I felt well enough to meet my loved ones.

During my intensive few months where I focused on work with burning concentration, I had shut out all my friends.

Even my partner J.

God bless him -- you're very lucky to have such a supportive partner, best girlfriend Nisa would say.

Indeed. 

I hadn't seen J mainly because I kept cancelling not only on him, but also his family who would always have me over for their weekly dinners.

On one weekend, I had again stood J and his family up. That evening, after their hurried dinner, J's family drove to my office and brought me warm food.

I am thankful that I'm loved, but, as some of my closest friends would say, it is a choice I made: That I choose work over loved ones.

And that is cruelly true.

When it comes to people, my priority list is as follows: Me, J, family, close friends.

When it comes to my priority list in general, it is: Me, work, workout, J, family, close friends. 

"It's a fucked up list you know that right," Stanley said shaking his head, pouring himself more Chardonnay.

Carl densely goes with the flow and pours himself some, nodding at his fast-filling wine glass.

"The way I see it, it's a glass is half full situation," I said to my closest gay friends of more than 25 years. "Because you and I have different perspectives where this is concerned".

Indeed, Carl is concerned. He stops pouring and frowns, studying his wine glass, bothered by my remark and wondering what's wrong with his glass.

Bothered -- and annoyed -- too, was Stanley. 

"All I'm saying is, if you choose to put work ahead of you -- and you have all the right to do that -- then don't regret the day when you're done with work and none of us are there for you."

Carl the dense one, who also has the attention span of slow pigeon, looks up and asks "Where are we going?"

Stanley, who's always been there for me through thick and thin, has a point. 

And I know that people's patience isn't limitless and if it were to compete with how I embrace work, eventually, they'll drop out of my life, tired to always be the bridesmaid.

That Saturday afternoon, over brunch at Serangoon Gardens, I looked at my table of loved ones and reminded myself of how lucky I am.

There's Stanley who's fast making his wine disappear; Carl who's now making himself busy by trying to fork up the microbits of crumbled cake on his plate, and J. My pillar of strength. My partner of more than 20 years who has always stood by me no matter what.

I've just emerged from Q1 amid my intensive work project -- and taking the time to catch up with my loved ones. 

Soon, I'll plunge back into Q3 and 4 which will see me work non-stop till the end of the year.

While I know that I can do my deep dive without worrying that my loved ones ashore will forsake me, I wonder how selfish I am to put them on the sidelines as I enjoy my work with abandon. 

That afternoon, I found some assurance. 

J squeezed my hand under the table, and said "focus on your work -- don't do a half-baked job. I'll be here for you. I'm not going anywhere."

Carl gave up.

"Sorry, but where are we going?" he asked, his clueless eyes begging for some sort of closure

 

 

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

Adam Is Back!

Enough is enough.

In my last two posts -- dated November and August 2023 -- I had written about wanting to revive my blog.

And what have I since then? 

Nothing.

All talk and no action. 

Just the kind of thing that pisses off Stanley my sex bunny friend, whose principle in life is all action and no talk please. Moaning, yes. Bedroom talk, yes. But that's that. 

And so, here I am, taking away the talk, and finally putting in the action.

I'm penning this piece, along with at least seven other banked pieces slated for release every Saturday. And I plan to start weekly updates of my blog from today. 

Stanley is relived. 

He has had loads of action in the last year and is dying for me to air his dirty laundry, soiled panties and all.

Indeed, there's much to talk about -- in the last year, my boys and I have gone through yet another rollercoaster ride, and not in the way Stanley the sex bunny would approve.

There had been ups (some of us promoted at work), and there had been downs (we're talking about death of loved ones). 

But mostly, the group -- sex bunny Stanley, our dense friend Carl and me, Adam Lee -- is still intact, and still there for one another. For better or for worse.

As for my long-time partner J of more than 20 years, well, we're still a good ol' married couple, so that's a blessing too.

In the weeks to come, I'll fill you in with updates of our lives in the past year. And more.

I promise.

To which, Stanley my sex bunny reacts: "That's promising."

"And in return, I'll support your regular posts by geting filled in regularly too," the noble sex addict promises.

 

 

 

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