Wet Blanket

It’s the time of the year when gay men all over the world would descend on Bangkok to get naked and wet (not necessarily in that order).  

And I, quite frankly, loathe it.

The entirety of it. 

And it's not because the poor country had just gone through earth-shattering tragedy (God bless all the crushed souls from the recent Myanmar quake).

Gone are the days when Songkran of Thailand are viewed as traditional festivities where people smeared powder on each others’s forehead or poured (not splash) water on the hands of loved ones to symbolise blessing and washing away of sins.

No.

Thanks to an out-of-control Thai Tourism Board narrative that painted Songkran as some G-circuit party to be at, the sanctity of that festival has been, well, severely watered down.

I don’t mean to pour cold water on Songkran for the gays but it irks me that all that pops up in my social media feeds from friends during this time are images of half-naked (and I can’t even say for sure it’s top half) beef cakes in shorts tinier and tighter than Tinkerbell’s wardrobe.  

“Adam. You’re growing old to be a mean, grumpy grand dad. What’s wrong with a little bit of fun?”said Stanley my sex bunny friend who has secured a ticket to exactly one of those circuit parties in Bangkok next week.

I rolled my eyes and helped myself to more Chardonnay.

Carl the dense one, who usually has no idea what’s going on around him or the world, pushed his empty wine glass to me for a refill, then announced “I’m also going to Bangkok for Songkran.”

Credit must be given when it’s due — I’m proud of Carl for knowing that it’s Songkran in Thailand. For someone who is unsure when Singapore marks national day, Carl deserves a medal.

Both of my closest gay friends have been long time fans of Bangkok — from the city’s cheap street food and weekend market buys to the best of what seedy silom can offer: Gogo boy shows, saucy massages and the yearly gay circuit party during Songkran.

The two of them are travelling separately: Stanley with his Out in Sg running friends (comprising mainly angmoh expats with both too much leave days and money to spare and a mission to use Singapore as a springboard to other regional holiday destinations) and Carl with his gym buddies (all of whom beefcakes with too much muscles to spare and therefore has to strip and splash).

“It’s gonna be wild and wet,” Stanley said, unwittingly writing the slogan for every pride event worldwide. “Come with us!” he added, unwittingly writing the script of every porn film worldwide.  

I chose to be a wet blanket, refusing to go with the flow, sprinkle or splash.

“What’s so wrong with it, Adam. What made you so bitter,” asked Stanley who’s in the mood for a deep dive into my thoughts.

I took my wine glass, swirled my Chardonnay around, watching the wine spin in one swift motion like it was in a top-load washing machine.

And then Stanley asked daringly.

“Are you still homophobic?”

Carl looked up from picking a morsel of cheese from his tooth, shocked by the latest development at Stanley’s dining table in his Queens Close home.

I took a sip of my wine, set the glass thoughtfully on the table and weighed carefully what I should say next.

Stanley looked at me accusingly demanding an answer.

Carl also looked at me desperately, demanding an answer - which is in keeping with his character.

Okay. I will admit this. I am homophobic.

Carl gasped audibly.

“The cheese just won’t come off!”

Stanley waited.

You see, Stanley knows me inside out and years ago, we had a deep discussion on this topic.

He made me realise that I’m homophobic.

It’s funny because, you know, because I’m as gay as can be.

I’m not in denial. I’m not one of those repressed, suppressed types who lash out at other gays just because I’m stuck and trapped by my own fears and insecurity.

No. I’m one of those who’ve acknowledged my being gay but dislike certain aspects of it.

It’s like how I can be, on the one hand, proud of my nationality but on the other, ashamed or loathe the ugly Singaporean aspect of it.

Such as when we’re overseas and at the airport counter, you get one of those Singaporean Karens who rudely makes demands in their Singlish at the poor airport worker, thinking they’re so damn superior because they hold the red passport of a first world country.

Carl was getting more confused and frustrated by the minute.

“Why is this cheese so sticky?!”

So, in that same spirit, I can embrace my being gay, and yet be homophobic about it.

Okay, maybe homophobia is too strong a word.

I loathe certain aspects of homosexuality but in general, I’m ok with it.

Stanley looked at me as if I were now one of those Singlish Karens.

Carl also looked at me with frustration.

“Stan, can I brush my teeth here?”

Stanley waved Carl off to the drawer where he keeps stolen hotel toothbrushes and continued his focus on me.

I just hate that these images — splashing beefcakes and sprinkling fairies at circuit parties— are going to define us. People are going to take one look and go “ah, these gays,” I said to Stanley.

Not wanting to let go, Stanley pressed on. “What is so wrong with that? It’s part of gay life.”

Also not wanting to get go was Carl’s stubborn cheese.“What is wrong with this cheese?!” he screamed from Stanley’s bathroom.

I find it frustrating that gay people are not doing themselves a favour, making it easy for the straight community to use these imperfections against us.

“Imperfections,” Stanley repeated after me. “Interesting. Do gays need to be perfect?” he asked sounding very much like an established shrink.

“YES!” FINALLY!” came Carl’s victorious cries from the bathroom, sounding like an accomplished dentist.

I’m not sure what to make of Stanley’s observations.

I didn’t want to be dismissive. So I thought deeper.

Do I hate gays? No.

Do I disagree with the things we sometimes do which gives the rest of us a bad name? Yes.

News headlines of child molesters, intentional HIV spreaders, and shallow party animals who get caught photographed in their white underwear in a drug and sex party raid. These frustrate me to no end.

And so when we have these Songkran party types around, it’s gonna add onto the list of things people can hate gays for.

Stanley leaned forward, thoughtful and serious.

“I hear you,” he said, as if reciting shrink textbook lines when talking to psychopaths.

“But how about focusing on the positive of the gays?” he suggested.

“There are so many successful gays around — just look at who’s in my place right now: You, me. Your lovely partner J too. And the famous ones like Boo Junfeng who’s not ashamed of gays and is a successful film maker.

“Adam, you must not be so harsh on your own kind.

“If you focus on the bad, it’s just going to eat you up,” Stanley said lovingly.

“You have to let go.”

Carl the dense one entered the living room right this moment and chimed in.

“Yes. Letting go can be the most satisfying thing ever.”

 

 

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