Stanley needed to see me urgently the other day.
And since it was my Work From Home day, I shrugged and said yes.
At exactly 11.09am, Stanley the sex bunny showed up at my front door with a bottle of Pinot Grigio.
"I like that your priority is drinks over food."
Twenty minutes later, the doorbell rang and at my doorstep was Carl the dense one. His python sized biceps were stretching his tee shirt sleeves to the limit.
"Food is here!" Carl beamed.
I set the table and portioned out the Hokkien Mee and transferred the Rojak on a proper serving plate.
As we took our seats, Stanley the size queen pointed out the obvious.
"Man, your place is tiny, Adam. When is your lease up? I can't wait for you to buy your HDB flat. This is so suffocating!"
Carl the gym rabbit flexed his arms for no reason.
At the halfway mark of our Thursday lunch, Stanley said: "So."
On cue, we looked up and waited for the gossip of the day that brought us to my suffocating apartment.
"Remember my silly semen retention phase?" Stanley asked.
Carl, who was still recovering from PTSD -- post traumatic semen disorder -- from our conversation not too long ago, turned pale.
He sat down his glass and backed off from the food, just in case.
"I'm seeing someone," he began, then took a sip of Pinot Grigio and swallowed.
Stanley has the gravitas of a brilliant motivational speaker who could command attention of his audience even as he took a sip of wine.
Carl the gym rabbit flexed his arms again while waiting.
"I didn't say this earlier 'cos I didn't think it was serious," Stanley said.
Carl's biceps swelled by the minute with excitement.
"Thing is," Stanley hemmed and hawed.
Carl's muscles looked like they could burst any minute with the suspense.
"And I don't want any judgement from you boys," Stanley continued.
Carl's face was red with all the flexing and waiting.
"He's actually attached but he and I are making things work."
Carl's biceps deflated on impact.
"Stan... that's..." Carl paused, searching for words. With the dense one, we would never know if his silence was because his mind was wandering off or because it was deliberate silence.
I was the one who broke it.
"Okay, tell us more Stan."
Stanley had been dating for a while now.
In fact, Stanley had been dating his whole life.
The 45 year old had never once settled for a proper relationship. Lots of fuck buddies, yes. Lots of One Night Stands, yes. Flings, yes. Boyfriends? No.
Carl was still in a stupor, staring at my painting.
"Did you buy this?" Carl asked, his pigeon-like attention span spiralling out of control.
For the past five months, Stanley had been going out with, let's just call him P.
P is a relatively high profile individual in the gay scene.
And by that, I mean P is very well known in the community.
He is, after all, a celebrity of sorts.
That got Carl's attention.
"Who is he!" he demanded.
"Okay. Promise not to share this anywhere else," Stanley said, and proceeded to provide us with his full name.
Carl's jaw dropped.
Stanley, who knows Carl since we sweet young things 20 years ago, challenged Carl.
"Do you know who he is?"
The dense one pouted and shook his head, his biceps shrinking further.
But I of course know of him and I was surprised that Stanley would dabble in a third-party relationship with someone so high profile.
"I'm not exactly a third party," he corrected. "Technically, they're in an open and sexless relationship."
That afternoon, Stanley spilled the beans after he spilled the seeds and like all good old fashioned Kiss and Tell sessions, spared no details about how they met and, in his words, "fell in love".
Carl shook his head. "You're playing with fire, Stan."
"I know. And it's HOT. He's hot. You guys may have seen his photos but his actual bod... it's to die for," Stanley said like he was a teen girl in puppy love.
As his gay best friend, I am supportive. I mean, Stanley can say he wants to marry a sofa for all I care. The role of gay best friend is to stand by him no matter what.
Even if he's going to be in a complicated love triangle.
"I'm not in a throuple, so that's less complex," Stanley offered.
But -- and I have many buts -- how is this relationship going to even work?
I mean, first of all, is what Stanley and P's situation even called a relationship?
Stanley warned me against falling into the label trap.
We're just two people who're not supposed to be in love but are in love, he said.
Carl the dense one nodded slowly though I have no idea if he was nodding because the script called for it or if he truly agreed with Stanley.
"This side table -- is it from Commune?" Carl asked.
As the boys wrapped up lunch and left at around 4pm that day, it got me thinking.
What are my limits as a gay best friend if my gay best friend is doing something that most people might frown upon?
And most importantly... where is this relationship heading?
It's surely headed for doomsville. There's no way -- and P made it very clear -- that P is leaving his partner for Stanley.
So what's in it for him, really, I wondered.
Stanley's news had given me more anxiety than excitement.
I shared this with my partner J, who, to my utter surprise, didn't say anything negative.
In fact, my partner of more than 20 years was calm and collected.
"Don't judge the love they both have now," he said.
"Though they're not saying it right now, I'm very sure Stan and P know at the end of the day that this relationship won't last forever. So my take is, they should both just enjoy each other, and love fearlessly," J said.
"At the end of the day, they know they may have to split up one day. So while they're at it, they might as well go all out and love each other fiercely, so that when it's time for them to part ways, they'd each have loved the other party fully."
I shared with Stanley J's thoughts, and he had no repartee nor anything witty to say.
That's when I know how serious Stanley was, with P.
Adam's stories are based on real life events and inspired by real people
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