We Will Survive

We're gonna die!!!

Not quite what I hope to learn first thing in the morning, but that's exactly what my sleepy eyes are reading, this very moment.


It's around noon in Singapore (around 11am where I am in Myanmar), but already, panic has descended.

The ominous prediction - in caps and bold no less - was supplied by my sex bunny friend Stanley.

This morning though, my friend was in no mood for sex.

In fact, sex was strictly off the table - and on any counter top, mattress, back of car seat, what have you.

There will be strictly no exchange of body fluids for the time being.

Stanley's ding-dong is closed, please come back another day.

"We're gonna die. WE ARE GONNA DIE! Do you see how this is all gonna end? The world is coming to an end!!!!" Stanley my dramatic friend typed in our group chat titled "Just the Boys" whose other participant was our dense friend Carl.

"Erm, good morning to you too..." I typed.

Stanley couldn't be bothered with the formalities.

"Dun you geddit?! We are gonna die," wrote Stanley, who no doubt would be the first person to sound the village gong if he had access to any sensitive secret.

Carl our dense friend, who usually has trouble with his nine times table and has difficulty reading the 24-hour time format, was eerily aware of the entire situation.

Carl posted a gif of Kermit the frog flinging himself around like he's gone berserk.

"There is no food in NTUC," Stanley wrote.

"Everyone is stocking up first on masks, then hand sanitisers and now, food!"

I sat up in bed and digested the information.

I may be 3,184.1km away from our tiny sunny island, but my heart is in Singapore.

"You're not joking right?" I typed.

After I made my first cup of coffee (I would need more than caffeine to kick start my day after Stanley's morbid jolt to my morning), I messaged my partner J.

"No dettol," he replied me.

Of course.

Saturdays are J's cleaning days and he mops his place with dettol.

Other than that, J is doing fine although he doesn't have masks or food stocked up.

Practical as J is, he wouldn't spiral off into panic buying so he's calmly riding the storm out.

Minutes later, from the swanky - but obviously fortified - River Valley apartment came my sister's WhatsApp reply.

"I have enough sanitisers to last me for two months, 600 masks for myself and 20 types of canned food and two air purifiers. But I think I don't have a can opener."

My sis, who had lived through SARS in 2003 as a frontline medical staff, was in full warrior mode.

I've sent mum and B masks and hand sanitisers and I'm ordering more online. You want?" she adds.

Speaking of, I sent a WhatsApp text to Mrs Lee.

She replied with a badly-taken Wefie that featured four of her friends in our neighbourhood, one of the auntie's faces cut off by bad framing.

"Gathering in Aunty Eng's place," the words on my WhatsApp screen finally appeared, after Mummy Lee spent nearly two minutes typing.

Meanwhile, my brother Barry responded with his trademark humour: A gif of Batman bitch-slapping Robin with the caption "bats are not food you fool!"

I have no doubt my brother's wit will pull him through this.

Barry was in NS during the SARS period and he was roped in to help pack masks then.

Whatsmore, Barry's the smartest among all three of us.

He'd be fine.

I then moved on to Nisa and Terry my straight best friends.

Nisa, whose mum is a retired doctor, says there's nothing to worry about.

Her family aren't even wearing masks when they go out because, in Dr Tan's words, "masks should only be worn if you're sick to prevent germs from getting out".

Nisa's mantras are simple.

To pull through this coronavirus, you need to watch your personal hygiene - wash your hands, don't rub your eyes - and drink lots and lots of water, and eat healthily.

If you're healthy, chances are, your body will fight the coronavirus if you have it.

Trust Nisa.

Her mum, who was among the fierce group of doctors and healthcare workers back in 2003 battling SARS, had been the one who imparted such advice to her.

Terry on the other hand has taken to working from home as a precaution.

He may not be an easy panic, but minimising contact from the outside world seems like the right thing to do.

As I sipped my morning coffee, I scrolled my phone for updates on the sickening virus.

Some of them were fake news.

But most of them were real - and concerning.

Singapore's turned code orange.

I turned pale at that news.

As I carefully digested what code orange meant, I slowly began to let the facts sink in.

A tiny group of Singaporeans are being affected by the virus despite not having travelled out of the country.

But our government is seeing this as worrying... and thus, putting a cap on certain activities on our island.

And I'm worried.

Back in 2003, when the SARS outbreak was at its peak in the Asian region, I was studying overseas, untouched and far away from this deadly virus.

But I was constantly worried back then because my loved ones - particularly my sis who was involved in battling SARS in her then-career - were at stake.

Today, as the coronavirus hits, I'm again away from the tension, tucked away in one part of the region that has thus far, no reports of the virus.

Call it deja vu, call it quasi-survivor's guilt, but I can't help but feel concerned for my loved ones back in Singapore.

When will this virus end?

And how will it end?

I have no answers.

I can only rely on the ultimate ending.

Singapore has fought SARS, H1N1 and seen through many other difficulties.

And through those crises, though we had seen death, we also saw the birth of resilience. The emergence of a united Singapore spirit.

Yes, we may be in trouble today.

But I have no doubt we will stand together and beat this mudder-effing virus.

We can do it.

Contrary to what Stanley says, we're not gonna die.

We will survive.

That is the ultimate ending.

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

The Invention of Intervention

I'm penning this entry in the favourite part of my condo overseas: The balcony.

It's Saturday morning, and writing entries for this blog has now become my weekend routine before I head for the gym and meet friends for lunch to keep myself sane.

And as part of my weekend routine, I checked in with the boys on WhatsApp.

"What are my favourite boys doing now?" I tapped into our group chat titled "Just the Boys".

Stanley Ong:    
I'm working my ass off - and not in a good way either.

Carl Chang:
I'm also working my ass off - but in a good way. At Fitness First.

Stanley Ong:
@Carl Chang: I also want to work my ass off in a good way later... with whoever comes First. 
@Adam: Are you alive?

Carl Chang:
Oh no @Adam: what happened. are you ill?!?!

Stanley Ong:
@Carl Chang: neh mind, stop talking. Go and pump your iron.
@Adam: ttyl - I need to overachieve. 
Love you boys!

Since Stanley found a job in the middle of last year, the only time our sex bunny friend had been hard was at work.

His newfound motto is to overachieve.

Which makes sense, given that whatever Stanley sets out to do, he does.

And I'm comforted that Stanley has now found his footing, unlike the first few months after he was retrenched in 2017 (read it here).

Back then, we saw Stanley in various states of vulnerability.

He took it well initially, given that financially, Stanley isn't exactly from an orphanage.

He was very calm about his joblessness despite the fact that right before his retrenchment, he was looking to buy his own place.

Stanley explained to us - as much as he had to hear himself - that "it's okay, guys. I will now finally have time to finish those books lying in my attic".

But Stanley couldn't upkeep his optimism, and soon became restless, angry, doubtful and finally, morbidly pessimistic.

Carl and I decided to intervene.

We called for a boys' gathering one Friday night at the Ikea Alexandra cafe, to satisfy Carl's sudden meatball cravings.

"When you have meatball cravings, Carl Dear, you go to the bed section of Ikea, or even the toilet," Stanley recommended. "You'll truly satisfy your cravings there."

Carl the dense didn't react, partly due to hunger, partly due to his inability to process information that required some form of analysis.

I on the other hand was inwardly glad that Stanley, in spite of his situation, still had a sense of humour. 

Later, as we set down with not just a plate of meatballs but also fried chicken wings, baked salmon and cake, we began to discuss Stanley.

"You've not quite been yourself, Stan," I said, pausing just so he could absorb what I said.

Centimetres away, Carl started absorbing too, and focused on making his meatballs disappear.

"I'm scared," Stanley said.

Carl looked up from his plate and looked from me to Stanley and started chewing timidly.

"Look. I'm nearly 40. And my last drawn isn't exactly low. At my age and level, who would hire me?"

Carl paused, seemingly understanding the gravity of Stanley's situation. He nodded empathetically and slowly forked another meatball into his mouth.

"What if I have to drive Grab at age 40?!

"I'll be one of those disgruntled, highly educated uncles who will complain to passengers about the government in one sentence, and then tell the very same passenger that I used to be top management in my old company, you know?"

Carl remained silent.

And so did I, because what Stanley said was highly plausible.

There and then, I made a mini life changing decision.

"Carl, apply urgent leave on Monday. I'll do the same."

Carl nodded hastily without questioning why.

"Boys, I have an idea."

The last time someone said that in our group, we ended up randomly driving up to JB at 12am for massage and supper.

This idea was somewhat similar.

Some quick work on my mobile phone later, Carl, Stanley and I were set for an adventure the next day, after I secured a villa at Batam View Resort for two nights.

It was random.

It was exciting.

And it was necessary.

The next morning, we each showed up at HarbourFront in our resort best.

Stanley opted for a light green, oversized floral short sleeves shirt he bought in Thailand during Songkran, paired with a straw hat and Ray Bans.

Carl, as expected, turned up in a tank top that looked three sizes too small for his frame.

I wore a sensible and comfortable dry fit tee and berms.

After stocking up our large duffel bags with copious amounts of chips and alcohol, we were ready to board.

"Here come the faeries!" Stanley said out loud as he stepped foot into the vessel.

Fifteen minutes into our bumpy sea ride, a very pale Carl turned to us and said "this motion reminds me of 20 years ago, during NS".

Without missing a beat, a very fresh faced Stanley chimed in: "This motion reminds me of 20 hours ago, during ONS".

When we finally set foot on Indonesian soil, Stanley squealed.

"Oh my god, I'm excited. Thank you Adam. This looks great! Top or Batam, here I come!"

Our villa was a short buggy ride from the reception and past the kelong.

Inside, the resort looked like a posh one-bedded chalet that came with decent furnishing and a well stocked kitchen.

I wasted no time and made the three of us coffee from the machine.

The highlight was our balcony which overlooked the Singapore Strait and Marina Bay Sands.

I can already imagine us sitting there at night, listening to the waves under the stars and feeling the breeze. 

Years ago, my partner J and I had come to this resort for a quick weekend getaway because the two of us had been too busy to catch up.

And let's just say that since then, when I think of quality time, Batam View Resorts would automatically spring to mind.

The plan was for us three to spend a luxurious day together and forget about our worries.

The programme was easy enough to arrange - there was only that much one could do in the resort.

Stanley disagreed, saying there's a lot to do in a resort, but he would not want to include us - thankfully - in those activities.

Soon, we were off to the resort pool with cocktails and magazines.

This was followed by lunch, and then a two-hour karaoke session, before we did a two-hour massage.

And then, we strolled purposefully to the kelong and demanded to eat good seafood and drink lots of cold beer.

By dinner, we were nicely rejuvenated though we had to urgently wash off all the salt on our skin.

By 10pm local time, the three of us were showered and ready for more alcohol by the balcony.

This time though, we were to talk some serious shit.

"I'm so fuuuulllll," Carl said in a low, guttural drawl.

"The seafood is so good that I would seriously choose cockles over cocks in my mouth any day," Stanley said in a creepy squeal like he were a school girl.

As we sipped our chilled Shiraz in cheap wine glasses, Stanley revealed that he had been spending a lot of time cooped up in his bedroom, worried over the prospects of being jobless.

At first, it started with a mere thought - a joke even - in which he could end up unemployed and having no choice but to drive Grab.

And when there were no replies from companies, he started to think if he might seriously be passed up for cheaper hires.

I wanted to ask Stanley if he had included his Grindr profile photos in those resumes, but thought I should shut up.

"And the fact that you and Carl continue to meet me almost every weekend isn't helping," Stanley said seriously.

"You guys are a reminder that at age 40 - '39!' interrupted Carl angrily  - it is normal to have high earning and spending power, and that I am suddenly out of the rat race."

"I am thrifty, yet at the same time, I have grown so complacent with my lifestyle. I'm no longer the Stanley in my 20s and 30s. I'm an improved version - I have felt so much self worth from my career and suddenly, one day, it's all gone."

Carl made a sad face and placed his head on Stanley's shoulder for moral support.

I struggled to find words to say, channelling my wise partner J, but gave up.

Over the last few months, we have done all we could to give Stanley the support he needed.

Assurance, encouragement, alternative stories as to why no company replied him, hopes that things will turn out better.

And now, this resort to commiserate.

As his best friends, I feel we are nearly exhausting our means to be supportive.

"I know you boys are worried," Stanley said earnestly, the alcohol in his system making him look more doe-eyed than usual.

"But I guess we just have to put one foot in front of the other and keep going.

"It's just that my bio clock is ticking. The older you are, the less desirable at work.

"Lucky for me, my bio cock is also ticking.

"And the older I get, the more desirable it is. Trust me. I've been doing the leg work given that I have so much time," Stanley said and all three of us burst out laughing.



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

Reunions

I'm not sure about you, but the older you get, the more stressful reunion dinners are.

It was a revelation that dawned on me in the Lee household just yesterday.

Mrs Lee was in her usual hostess with the mostess mode, shuttling between her kitchen and our living room which looked like a brothel.

As usual, my mum had overdone it again with the Lunar New Year décor, going all out to paint the house red.

In one corner of the house sat a knee-length vase that supported dozens of pussy willows which fanned out in multiple directions.

In another corner was a short and stout pot of kumquat plants.

And of course, festive stickers that depict a pair of plump children - one boy and one girl with rosy cheeks - each holding up a scroll of auspicious greetings.

"Where is Barry Lee," my mum demanded. "He's late for dinner," she said, looking pointedly at the family clock which said 3.05pm.

"Better hurry. CNY monster stirring to life," I typed in the sibling group chat.

"Yes, the Queen is about to explode," my sis added.

"Just to be clear, which queen are we talking about, asked Barry, who can't be entirely blamed given that the title can be shared among my mum, sis and myself.

Every CNY, the Lee household gets very tense.

First, there is Mrs Lee who is always afraid that people would leave our home hungry.

So there's always overcooking to be done. Overfeeding to be carried out. And of course, overeating to be suffered.

That puts some stress on Mrs Lee.

And because every CNY is held at the Lees, my mum would take it upon herself to recreate the dishes of my late-grandmother because she needs to please the palates of her siblings - my aunts and uncles.

That too, is not an easy task.

Every year, Mrs Lee starts her reunion dinner preparation one week ahead of the event.

The high-grade mushroom needs to be soaked and then stewed over a pot for one week for its slow death.

And then there's lots of pre-chopping, pre-slicing and pre-marinating to be done.

A day before the grand dinner, my mum gets working on the soup.

And not just any soup, mind you.

Granny's Cantonese soup recipe which calls for boiling not on the gas cooker but over a small charcoal stove.

Yes, we are serious like that.

Every year, my mum would also make everyone's favourite dish for reunion dinner.

Sweet and sour pork (my brother's favourite), 'Dao Kok Lap' - deep fried cubed tofu, peanuts, char siew, radish and chopped long beans (my sis' favourite), deep fried chicken wing (my brother and sis' favourite), stir-fried prawn in tomato paste (my brother's favourite), braised sea cucumber with scallop (nobody's favourite - but my mum assumes everyone likes it), mushroom and chicken feet (my mum and aunt's favourite) abalone with lettuce (again, nobody's), and roast duck (the favourite of Uncle Weng, my mum's unmarried brother).

Why aren't there any of my favourites, you ask?

I love them all - anything Mrs Lee cooks, I love.

But back to the Lee household.

There was a lot of food prep, and I was deemed to be of no help whatsoever, so my duties were to stay out of the kitchen and watch Netflix.

My sis on the other hand, was the de facto health minister who would comment on the nutritional value of my mum's cooking, driving her nuts.

And so she was tasked to sit on the couch and watch Netflix with me.

At that moment, anyone who is gifted with the sight of cosmic energy would start seeing dark smoke consolidating and starting to swirl around the Lee household.

Every CNY, there was one duty I did best: Keeping up the festive spirits.

So I loaded up on whisky (Uncle Weng and my brother's favourite), red wine (for myself), beer (for Uncle Chee) and soft drinks for the ladies (my favourite aunt and my sis).

But the festive spirit was about to falter.

"Where is Barry?" my mum enunciated as she laid out her festive table cloth the colour of fresh blood - a grim reminder of my brother's fate if he still chose not to respond to mum's text.

"He's at work and on the way," I said, making stories up along the way.

My sis shot a look at me and rolled her eyes, but decided that she shouldn't be the one to stir the hornet's nest.

Meanwhile, a few streets down the road, the Ongs too are busy preparing for their yearly dinner.

Except that in Stanley's family, it's the dad who wears the apron.

Stanley's mum, the formidable Mrs Monica Ong, wears the pants in the family, calling the shots in the household.

My sex bunny friend Stanley is the total opposite of his mum - he doesn't wear pants.

Rather, he drops his pants at every opportunity.

But today is not the day to talk about such inauspicious stuff.

In Stanley's three-storey house, their reunion dinners are surprisingly - but intentionally - humble.

According to Stanley, his dad had once been very, very poor and although Mr Ong was a rags-to-riches case, the elderly Ong had never once forgotten his humble beginnings.

And so for the Ongs, reunion dinners are always made up of very simple dishes - stir fried vegetables with garlic, omelettes, lean chicken, as well as a small dish of dark soy sauce which Stanley's dad explains, represents extreme poverty (because when he was a child, on some days, dinner was really just rice and dark soy sauce with a dash of oil).

Oh, and there's also this preserved tofu cube dish soaked in vinegar which in Stanley's words, tastes like dick cheese.

But Stanley's family - who enjoys the occasional extravagant dinners outside - would take every CNY as an opportunity to be thankful. That they have food on the table, and to remind themselves that no matter how wealthy one is, all it matters is that the entire family sits down and eats a meal together, simple dishes or not.

Some 15km from Stanley and my house is the Changs.

The family of our dense friend Carl Chang.

For them, their reunion dinner tradition has always been steamboat.

Carl's mum, a career woman who has several fruit stalls to manage in various parts of Singapore, has absolutely no time to cook on a daily basis so her cooking skills are, you know, a bit rusty.

According to Carl', "my mum says no way are we going to have Filipino food for reunion dinner although our helper Aunty Rina is a great cook - so our best bet is steamboat."

So for Carl, his yearly dinner involves putting random things into the hotpot and into his mouth - an activity Stanley would be well acquainted with.

And every year after reunion dinner, it's become a habit that the three of us would meet.

It all started in the late 90s, when Carl, Stanley and I were sweet young things, all of 20 years old with smooth lean bods and so, so much virility.

The 20-year-old Stanley had famously said that we needed to maximise our youth and show off our brand new clothes so we had to party after reunion dinner.

Oh, those were the happy days.

I remember rushing through dinner and while my family and relatives were all gambling after a hearty meal, I would quickly change into my CNY best and scoot out of the house to meet Stanley and Carl, along with some other friends.

We would spend our night at Niche - a defunct gay club in a Chinatown shophouse which gays who grew up in the 90s would be familiar with.

There was a lot of dancing, screaming and drinking.

Of course, being young and energetic, we could all bounce back bright and early the next day to face our respective pesky relatives.

This year - as all of us hit the big four-O - Carl, Stanley and I stuck to our tradition of meeting up.

But instead of clubbing like we used to, the three of us opted for a more sensible outing: At Carl's home.

Stanley dug out his 2015 Rioja while I lugged a bottle of 2014 Amarone to Carl's.

Carl supplied CNY snacks and his cosy balcony and we chatted from 11.30pm all the way till 3.30am last night.

There and then, at Carl's place, we realised that we stuck to this tradition not because we were friends.

But because we are family.

Happy Lunar New Year, everyone.

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

Of Fortune Telling and Magic Snakes

Long, long time ago, in ancient China, there lived a pair of mystical snakes who were such close friends they regarded each other as sisters.

The older, more regal one was a white snake.

Poised and elegant.

The younger - and might I add, sluttier one - is in a loud, attention-seeking shade of lime green and who slithers around the magical forest, flirting with all living things that her belly comes in contact with.

Some say the green snake is a direct descendant of a certain serpent who once tempted a man to eat the forbidden fruit.

This green snake though, does not go around tempting.

She goes straight for the man's forbidden fruit.

"That's defamation," Stanley my sex bunny friend dramatically hissed at me back in the modern world.

"There is no truth to this legend!"

Carl however was amused.

Our dense friend leaned in closer, rested his chin on both his fists and grinned like a goon.

"Then, then, then? What happened next?"

Stanley who couldn't bear to be defamed, demeaned but is totally fine with being deflowered in this story, raised both his hands in the air and said "no, that's how the story goes. Let me tell it as it is."

Long, long time ago, there lived a pair of mystical snakes in a forest.

The older one - and girl, we're talking old... the crinkly, wrinkly sort... the soft-like-jelly type of old - is white.

And because that bitch is so old, she's sort of off-white.

Dirty white.

You know, the kind of white where you've cummed on a black hanky and left it there for a few days that it becomes yellow.

That sort of off-white.

Carl shifted uncomfortably at that unexpected piece of information in the story.

"Don't ask me how I know - it's just part of the story," Stanley said dismissively, noticing that Carl had turned pale.

Anyway, that old white snake was so old that nobody in the forest wanted to be her friend, much less sleep with her.

So the younger, chirpier and more outgoing snake - which is a beautiful shade of green, and which also happens to be my favourite colour, Stanley adds, took pity on that old bitch and had to sacrifice herself and sleep around and help that old white snake make friends.

One day, this clever green snake had a brilliant idea.

Since my old spinster sister is such a fat loser, why don't we use our ancient magical powers to transform ourselves into human beings?

Carl lit up at the word magic. He loved magic.

And so, just like that, the older snake took the form of a very fat, very old woman, just because her robust magical powers allowed her to go all out.

So that stupid snake opted for quantity over quality.

The younger green snake, being less of a show off, decided to turn herself into an attractive, 20-year-old maiden who was smooth, pretty and slender.

168 / 55/ single / bottom, Stanley added.

Carl grinned, enthralled by how detailed Stanley was.

"Then, then, then?" he asked Stanley, impatiently rapping his hand to hurry him with the story.

So the pair of human sisters lived quite happily for a while.

The younger green snake would go out for parties because she was pretty and popular while her fat and old sister would keep complaining that she was always tired that she wanted to just sleep her life away.

Carl covered his mouth to stifle a giggle, truly entertained by Stanley.

One day, a very handsome scholar came by the house while the green snake was out partying at Sparks during an afternoon Tea Dance event.

All the handsome scholar wanted to do was to use the latrine because the rainy weather made him want to pee quite badly.

But the scholar ended up falling in love with the old, fat white snake.

Oh, and the handsome scholar was born blind.

Couldn't see a single thing, that poor boy, Stanley said shaking his head with pity.

"That scholar is J!" Carl beamed excitedly, happy to have been able to identify my partner in Stanley's made up story.

Then Carl paused and raised his fingers to count.

Sensing that Carl wanted to be included in the story, Stanley immediately improvised.

Anyway, the two got married and when the green snake came back, she very kindly congratulated her fat, old sister for scoring.

Then the green snake went to the latrine where the scholar had met his eventual old, fat white snake of a wife, and, as a gift, decided to conjure a page boy for the newly weds.

The green snake spotted a mound of suspicious-smelling soil and used it to fashion a human servant for the couple.

Carl stopped grinning there and then and sat up.

Sensing potential trouble, Stanley immediately improvised again.

But, but, but, the house boy was very, very muscular. he has very big arms and could lift many heavy things!

Carl grinned and clapped at the development.

And then the four of them lived happily ever after okay goodbye, Stanley said, ending his story abruptly, finally bored of spinning tales from thin air.

Carl smiled and sipped his tea as he digested the delightful story.

For context, the three of us had been debating a yearly topic: Horoscope.

More specifically, it was a debate about believing such nonsense.

Carl was a firm believer.

But Stanley, who cannot stand fortune telling, chose to spin magical stories that afternoon instead.

To be fair, Stanley's right.

It's ridiculous to believe in Chinese New Year horoscopes that are written by someone who's out to please everyone, and afraid to get things wrong.

"Things will look good for you in the coming year. But beware of things you say about others, which could hurt your career".

Or...

"The coming year could spell a mini disaster for those born in the year of the tiger. Be careful with eating overly spicy food and make sure you watch your health this year".

Erm, duh.

Thank you, Mr Fengshui.

This could have been written by my HR colleague who writes such cryptic but meaningless emails.

And then there are the classic shenanigans who get on Stanley's nerves.

Once, during Chinese New Year, Carl insisted we went to have our fortunes told at a makeshift stall in Chinatown.

Stanley allowed the fortune teller - a woman in her 60s - to read his palm.

The aunty obviously couldn't read between the lines because what she told Stanley made him stand up and walkaway from his seat.

Stanley had asked her if he should change his job that year.

The fortune telling aunty nodded sagely, closed her eyes and looked like she was in such deep pain that the only antidote for her was a toilet bowl.

Then she opened her eyes and gave Stanley an answer which would in later years, be repeated to anyone who dared to talk about having his fortune told.

The aunty said this to Stanely.

"This year would be a good year to change your job. It will bring you steady fortune. But if you don't change your job, you too will see steady fortune."

So this year, although Carl had brought up the subject of discussing our predictions for the coming year (which by the way bodes very well for those born in the year of the Goat), Stanley chose to spin magical tales instead to keep Carl enthralled.

Come to think of it, Stanley said, I think I should set up a stall in Chinatown and have all these superstitious peoples' fortunes read.

But only for selected clients.

I'm so creative that people will be very entertained.

Plus, I'm gonna do this with a different angle - with science.

Instead of reading palms, I'll take certain samples from them and assess them carefully, Stanley says with a wry smile.

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

Sex And The City

"I don't know why people think it's hell, but trust me, darlings, it's heaven. Absolutely heaven," Stanley wrote in our group chat titled Just the Boys.

As expected, Carl our dense friend replied with a series of question marks, a true reflection of his state of mind on most days.

Stanley our sex bunny friend had recently taken a short, solo break and our adventurous member opted for Hong Kong.

A city which some think is going down.

Stanley agrees partially.

Only some in the city should be going down.

And on me, he wrote in our group chat, his text emitting lust.

I think the world has its focus on all the wrong places, Stanley argued.

I on the other hand, have my eyes trained on all the right places, he said, posting a few photos in our group for our perusal, to prove his point.

My heart - and not to mention, a vital part of my body - are in the right places too.

Carl replied with a series of exclamation marks, followed by a series applauding-hand icons.

It's true, they're not too bad looking, Hong Kong guys.

Stanley thinks that's an understatement.

The moment he touched down in Hong Kong - and despite the uneasy tension and ongoing chaos - Stanley was immediately excited..

Choosing to see the brighter side of things, our fey friend took on the liberty to fill our group chat with Hong Kong fun facts, fun being the operative word.

He also gave us details - at times, way too many details - about the city's fine young men.

First of all, Stanley began, 80 per cent of Hong Kong men are good looking.

They're all well groomed whether dressed or undressed - trust me, I personally fact-checked, he said.

Everyone - from the well-dressed executive in Central, to sweaty, delivery men in Wan Chai - is super attractive.

"And, there is no apocalypse happening in Hong Kong," Stanley stressed.

"All those videos you see on the news - it's all fake!" Stanley proclaimed.

"I have been walking around Hong Kong for the last two days and so far, nobody has come up to rape me," Stanley said, sounding a tad too disappointed.

Hong Kong is nothing of that sort, said Stanley, newly-minted Hong Kong Tourism Board Ambassador.

"If what you see on TV and social media are anything to go by, you would expect to see hordes of fit policemen running towards me or large groups of handsome youths hurling petrol bombs at me, right?, Stanley said.

"But no. There are no hot policemen with pepper spray nor handsome youths waiting for me with petrol bombs when I touched down! I'm not on fire, am I?" Stanley said, sounding like he was on heat.

"Seriously... Hong Kong is normal, guys," Stanley said, begging us to believe every word of his.

For the next few days of Stanley's trip, we were given a visual treat.

Various photos were posted in our group chat, from Michelin-Star roast goose dishes and red wine glass with a book, to the city skyline as well as random photos of Hong Kong men.

"And even though I was caught up in a protest, I didn't feel unsafe at all," Stanley pointed out.

Of course, Stan dear. Hong Kong men are the ones who ought to feel unsafe with you around was my inner thought, which I wisely kept to myself.

"I mean, guys, I was smack in the middle of the action," Stanley wrote the other day.

"You'll have to be more specific, Stan. With you, that can mean many things," I replied.

"Protests!" Stanley responded on cue, his inanimate WhatsApp text unwilling to reveal if he was fearful or excited.

And then he posted a barrage of photos and a video showing groups of riot policemen on one side of the road, and a group of black-clad protesters on the other side.

Carl was alarmed.

"Run for your life!!!" Carl wrote.

"To whom is the message meant for, Carl?" Stanley replied, before adding a gif of an Italian-looking man smiling suggestively.

"Relax dear...." Stanley wrote.

"I came here because I specifically asked the hotel staff where certain planned protests were so that I could see them for myself - don't worry, I have an N95 mask!" Stanley said.

"Why would you do that?!" Carl wrote, and posted a gif of Barack Obama raising both his hands quizzically.

"Wow, you know him. Good job," Stanley said, impressed that Carl our dense friend, who has trouble naming all seven continents in the world, would choose such a gif.

"Yah, he's a popular actor," Carl wrote with a smiley-face icon, pleased with himself.

Carl had unknowingly raised Stanley up and thrown him down hard all too quickly - a feat only some of Stanley's one-night-stand partners had achieved.

Not wanting to be distracted, Stanley continued.

I feel very safe - like a fly on the wall, quietly watching the action between fit, hot policemen and hot-blooded youths, Stanley said, not minding at all that he's sounding like a pervert.

One of Stanley's main aims for his short, solo trip was to spend some time away from Singapore, to get away from all the stress.

Another was to make full use of the cheap hotel fares in Hong Kong.

And as a bonus, Stanley wants to be in the thick of the action to watch history unfold.

Turns out, our Sex bunny friend got what he wanted, given that not only did he watch the unfolding, he was also actively involved in some unfolding activities.

Soon, it was time for Stanley to leave the beloved city of Hong Kong.

As Stanley boarded the plane to return to Singapore, he wrote in the group chat.

"Dear God, I have always wanted to use protection amid a crowd of hot-blooded young men and I should have been more specific.

"And dear God, I had always wished for action involving hordes of hot, fit men in uniform taking out their little weapons and spraying substance all over the place, and God, again I should have been more specific."

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

A Whole New Whirl

On Dec 31, 2019, Stanley my sex bunny friend wrote this on his Facebook page.

"Just because the clock strikes 12, just because you turn the page of a calendar, just because it's Jan 1 doesn't mean your life will reset for the better. So if 2019 sucked, your 2020 will suck too. There's no such thing as an automatic renewal in your life if you don't do anything about it. So suck it up."

How true. 

Stanley's life in 2020 will continue to suck, given that he's been consistently sucking in 2019. 

So, all you men out there, watch out. Stanley's gonna suck 'em all up. 

Last I checked, Stanley's Facebook post received 216 likes and a string of comments that ranged from "well said" to "what's wrong, bro"?

But what Stanley says makes perfect sense.

Making New Year Resolutions - while a forward-looking concept - is passe.

Year after year, we aspire to be better versions of ourselves.

Year after year, that tends to fail. 

Because those who wait until Jan 1 to make changes aren't really motivated to change. 

If you want to introduce something good in your life, why wait?

There's no need to pick an auspicious date to be Marie Kondo, Stanley argues, setting his cup of mocha latte - his favourite afternoon drink - on the wooden table of Coffee Bean at Rail Mall.

"Yah, if you want to drag, or change sex, or buy a condo just do it," said Carl who obviously has no idea who Marie Kondo is.

For Carl our dense friend, who still has trouble listing - and spelling - all the months in a year, New Year Resolutions mean nothing to him.

In fact, a lot of things mean nothing to Carl, who we suspect is really a five-year-old boy trapped inside the muscular body of an adult male.

Stanley my libido-driven friend on the other hand, traps muscular bodies of adult males.

But back to resolutions.

Let's own up.

How many of us here have had resolutions made but not fulfilled?

I'll start.

In one of my resolutions, I had aspired to eat healthy meals... salads, boiled meat, no carbs.

On Day Four, I succumbed to a large packet of fries (true story).

Stanley too, had, believe it or not, attempted to stay off One Night Stands.

He eventually gave in to a large package (true story too).

Carl had, a few years ago, resolved to increase the intensity of his gym workouts.

And to his credit, he did end up quite large, so good for him.

That afternoon, for the sake of reflection, I ask the boys what they'd changed in their lives that made them quite proud.

Stanley raised his hand immediately to answer.

"Sex partners."

Carl, who had scrunched his eyebrows like he'd been giving my question some serious thought, eventually changed his mind and picked up his fork and began gently poking at our table's carrot cake.

Truth be told, at the ripe old age of 40 - actually 41, if you go by calendar year - I don't have much on my achievement scroll.

True, I'm not exactly a loser.

I have a job which I love. I have J whom I love. I have the boys whom I love.

And I generally love my life.

But these are elements in my life that just happen in my life.

It's not as if I sat down on Dec 31 and said, okay, one day, I aim to meet the man of my life and live happily ever after.

Carl turned pale at that thought.

Our macho friend, who had been single for a while since he broke up, looked despondent and continued turning to the carrot cake to ease his pain.

Stanley jumped in at this point.

How about we take this New Year Resolution shit a little more seriously, he suggested.

I mean, there's no harm trying right? Okay, Adam, you start the ball rolling.

And so, there and then at Rail Mall over drinks and cakes, the boys and I got down to business.

At the top of my list is good health, I say, helping myself to a large forkful of creamy carrot cake, my favourite pick-me-up.

"I don't know what sort of list your is," Stanley interrupts. "My list contains actual names and phone numbers and all are tops," he says, revealing his type of pick-me-ups.

"So to do that," I said, looking only at Carl so that I can block out Stanley and his nonsense, "I'm going to eat healthily and do a full body check up this year."

"I love full body check ups," Stanley says inserting his face in my line of vision. 

"Some full body checkups lead to very happy endings. I can quote you some examples from some of my favourite films," he says with a threat. 

I continued looking at Carl, who nods sagely in an attempt to show that he understands what's going on, and that he cares about the conversation. 

My next aim this year, I say to the group,  is to make more friends. 

Since being posted overseas, living alone in a foreign land proved to be lonely. 

Although I'm back in Singapore for a year-end trip, I'm going to have to soon return to Myanmar where I'm based, leaving behind my partner J and my loved ones Stanley and Carl.

Stanley made the sign of the cross at my sombre, obituary tone.

So, socially, I aim to build new networks and establish closer ties with people.

"Amen," Stanley says, approving any sort of networking attempts.

And is your New Year Resolution to be more holy, I ask Stanley.

Not wanting to disappoint, Sister Stanley made the sign of the cross dutifully.

Meanwhile, Carl is busy attending to our carrot cake, making the delicious morsel slowly disappear.

"What's your New Year Resolution, Carl?"

Our dense friend looked up and flashed me a cream-filled smile in response, his eyes filled with childlike bliss.

I looked to Stanley who immediately made the sign of the cross on cue, this time, reaching a hand in front of Carl to say "May our friend this year be aware, be aware, be aware of all things happening around him!"

When Stanley was done with his dramatic expression, he took a sip of his mocha latte, a visual cue that he's switching to serious mode.

"My New Year Resolution is to buy a flat this year," he said seriously.

Stanley had been house hunting in the last year but his plans were forced to be on hold after he was retrenched.

Now that he's back in the workforce, Stanley's new strategy is to go easy - a principle which some of us hope can be applied to his sex life too, but let's not go there.

So instead of pouring his pot of gold into a condo unit, he's decided to first get an HDB flat, pay off the whole thing, then buy a condo unit if he has spare cash.

"That's really good, Carl says, licking his fork.

"That's my financial plan," Stanley said in a firm voice as if he were presenting a White Paper to a council of economists.

At the corner of my eye, I saw Carl scratch his scalp before proceeding to suspiciously sniff his fingers.

"As for my other resolutions," Stanley said, determined not to be distracted by Carl, "I shall aspire to be less vain."

Carl froze in mid finger-sniffing and turned to Stanley curiously.

"Yes, you heard me right," Stanley said, adding sternly "and stop doing that, Carl."

"I am so vain that I realise these days, I can't help staring in the mirror - and it's gotten to a point where I think is unhealthy."

"So I'll make it a point to stop looking into the mirror and stop being so obsessed with myself."

Carl literally stopped whatever he was doing and looked like he's having a very tough time deciding between further engaging Stanley or his fingers.

He eventually chose his fingers and proceeded to sniff them with abandon.

I didn't know what to make of Stanley's resolution.

But apparently, he'd done quite a bit of reflection to reach this stage.

"I mean, seriously," Stanley said.

"I had been working very hard in the gym to maintain my lean physique," he said, patting his flat abs with love.

Carl responded with a toothy grin and began patting his own python-sized biceps.

Awww, look at the two of them bonding in this special way after all these years.

"And so I'm seriously going to not check myself out at every opportunity," Stanley said, breaking the momentary trance he had Carl shared.

"I get upset every time I stare at my abs, thinking that I'd put on weight and that my abs are not as defined as a few days ago. It's that bad," Stanley says.

Carl hadn't stopped patting his swollen biceps.

Turning his attention to Carl, Stanley said: "And your resolution should be to stop working so much on your upper body - and start building muscles on your bloody skinny legs."

Carl pouted at that comment.

"And if you need any sort of motivation, I'm here to help okay," Stanley said encouragingly putting his arms around both of us.

"I'm an expert in reaching my goals," and then turning to Carl in particular, "my specialty and interests are shaping body parts below the waist."

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

Happy New Year!!!

Dear reader,

Wishing you a very happy, meaningful and healthy year ahead - and thank you for regularly visiting this blog.

Here's to many more happy entries to come - a wish that Stanley my sex bunny friend would say with true meaning.

Love,
Adam