The Most Wonderful Time Of The Year

"Is Christmas really the most wonderful time of the year?" Stanley my sex bunny friend asked on Christmas morning over a three-way WhatsApp video call with me and our dense friend Carl.

Stanley -- who loves his three ways -- has always loved Christmas by the way.

It's entrenched in him (among other things, considering).

Being Catholic and all, Stanley had since young enjoyed the festivities in a big way: From being an altar boy on Christmas Eve mass to playing one of the three Wise Men in church nativity scenes. 

Even as the innocent little Stanley grew up to be a sex bunny, Christmas was still meaningful to him. 

He recalls one Christmas-eve occasion when he played three wise men. Talk about celebrating in a big way.

Carl, who always thought Christmas was the birthday of Santa Claus up till he was 13, didn't have much to add to the conversation so he focused on stirring his morning oatmeal and continued building muscle through his breakfast.

"Carl, stop eating such nonsense on Christmas morning," Stanley said, and raised his plate of leftover red velvet log cake and apple pie breakfast. 

Despite the muted 2020, there is indeed much to be happy about this year end. 

COVID vaccines have arrived in Singapore, and all citizens will be given free vaccines by the end of 2021 if they choose to get them.

Stanley my sex bunny friend is naturally excited. 

Anything form of jabbing gets him quite hyped. 

"I am going to get vaccinated," Stanley said, licking frosted bits of cake off the tines of his fork .

"I'm going to flip through the catalogue and choose a handsome male nurse to do the job. I'll pull my pants down, raise my buttocks to him and say poke me please," said Stanley who is on a roll.

"And trust me -- for the first time in my life, I will actually want the handsome male nurse to poke me with an actual needle and syringe instead of other tools that I would opt for on a usual day."

Carl wisely chewed his oatmeal with fierce concentration trying to fend off visuals that would disrupt his protein consumption.

I sipped my morning coffee and shrugged.

But this recent news is indeed a cheer to some of us though I won't be one of those who would be rushing out for large gatherings. 

For one, I can't.

I'm currently back in Myanmar and the only interactions I can have with my loved ones are via video calls. 

That in itself can be a happy thing.

Leave it to Stanley to inject new perspectives for me. 

"Has anyone ever thought about how gay Christmases are?"

Sensing potential Q&A which Carl almost always has no answers to, the gym rabbit promptly scraped his bowl in the hope of producing enough morsels for him to continue chewing busily. 

There's just so much tinsel and sparklies at Christmas. Everything is so, bright and gay, Stanley said. 

Not only that, Stanley leaned in as if he were about to let us in on the world's best kept secrets, Christmas is actually a very sexual period, he says with a twinkle in his eyes.

Carl, who enjoys hearing sex stories but not during mealtimes or in the morning, moved on to licking his spoon clean so that there was something he could do to get away from the nightmare before Christmas. 

"There's always a lot of sausages on the plate. The tiny baby ones, the thick gnarly ones that cause you to choke, the smooth, fat ones that get you licking your lips," Stanley said, preparing us for the wurst. 

"There's also this underlying sexual act of unwrapping gifts... like how you would appreciatively untangle someone's lingerie."

Carl looked like he was almost in tears. He started licking his bowl to keep himself busy.

"Then there's the fisting," Stanley said. "Lots and lots of fisting."

Carl, who had by then returned with his second course of breakfast feast responded by dipping his biscuits in milo and gave Stanley a thumbs up.  

"Every year the poor turkey is subjected to the sexual fetish of celebrants, who would stuff objects into the poor bird's orifice," Stanley explained. 

"And don't even get me started on how wrong it is to place little children on the fat lap of Santa Claus. It's just... wrong."

"I'm really beginning to suspect the real reason Santa would break into people's house at night via chimneys -- and I want to question if it's really gifts his stuffing into socks."

Sensing how Stanley is not only ruining his Christmas but also his breakfast, Carl changed the subject. 

"What did you do for Christmas in Myanmar Adam?"

Well, for one, I made it a point to be in touch with my loved ones back home, including one with my partner J and his family (Christmas to us isn't just Christmas... it's also near our anniversary). 

Because of the time difference, I called them up just as I was about to start my Christmas Eve feast while J and his family were already in near-food coma in Singapore.

Though I miss celebrating our annual Christmas at J's, I had my Yangon gang -- friends whom I met in the last two years.

Most of them had not left Myanmar during the pandemic. They're all saving up their annual leave to unleash them when it's safe to travel back to Singapore, Malaysia and the Philippines respectively. 

One of them, a young corporate lawyer who is the cheerleader of the group, had insisted we all got together at one of our diplomat friends' place for a big bash. 

There was booze, there was wine. There was sinigang na baboy and chicken adobo (sour pork stew and marinated chicken, both Filipino favourites). There was also Caldereta, meat stew with innards.  Our Christmas table was also filled with nasi lemak and curry, bee hoon and chicken wing, and of course, stuffed turkey. 

Though I had truly missed celebrating Christmas with my loved ones back home, there was nothing I could complain about yesterday, when I was surrounded with some of my best friends in Yangon.

People whom I can depend on as my second family in this home away from home.

Perhaps, Christmas is indeed the most wonderful time of the year.

Merry Christmas, folks. 

 

 

 

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

Merry Xmas, Dear Readers!

Dear readers, 

Here's wishing you and your loved ones a merry Christmas and most importantly, a very safe, and healthy New year!

Love,

Adam

Drunk But Not Wasted

Facebook does not allow you to forget things.

Recently, it showed me various photos taken in 2014.

They are bittersweet memories.

Stanley my sex bunny friend, Carl the dense one and I were huddled really close to one another, our we-fie taken at an exaggerated high angle to ensure none of us showed our flabby double chins.

If you look at this blog's profile photo, well, it was one of those photos taken back then (introducing, from left to right, the hands of Adam, Stanley and Carl!).

In most of those photos, Stanley and I were grinning like goons but Carl was only smiling feebly.

The year was 2014, and Carl was still mourning the breakup with his beloved partner of nearly 10 years.

The three of us were at Carl's favourite gay pub in the whole wide world -- EBar.

It was barely a week after Carl's break up and our friend was in extreme fragile mode, so Stanley and I made sure we kept a close watch on him.

That night, Carl wanted to drown his sorrows, and so Stanley and I braced our livers and gamely went along.

"If there's one organ I can choose to sacrifice to make one of my best friends happy, I'll pick liver any day," Stanley said. "But if it's to please a man I love, darling, I'll gladly choose another organ."

That night, we got VIP treatment at Ebar.

Because Carl was a regular at the Karaoke pub, staff there were fully aware of his newly vulnerable state.

Fellow regulars, the bartender, some of the wait staff and even the boss himself came by to give Carl supportive hugs as he stepped in.

Stanley leaned in and whispered: "I have always wanted to walk into a pub and have everyone line up to hug me. I thought the secret was to keep hooking up -- Carl has just showed me that it's about breaking up."

I elbowed Stanley in his ribs.

"Ow! Adam, that hurts," Stanley says, rubbing one side of his body. "But thank you for reminding me. For a while, I thought I'd never feel pain when someone jabs me."

We both laugh.

Carl remain stoic.

Our dense friend remained unsmiling even as we were led to our usual seat -- Carl's favourite corner of the bar.

To cheer him up, Stanley made the first order: One bottle of Macallan.

"Want to sing a song, Carl?" I ask, hoping that his favourite activity would cheer him up a little.

Carl shook his head dully.

"Want to suck a dick, Carl?" Stanley ventured next, hoping that his own favourite activity would cheer Carl up a little.

Carl shook his head dully.

But no, we're not giving up.

Minutes later, our Macallan came, along with green tea and Coke mixers.

Carl immediately reached for the whisky bottle and filled up one-third of his glass. Neat.

"Wow," Stanley said. "You like it stiff too eh?"

Carl nodded stiffly.

We filled ours carefully -- making sure to mix our drinks with something. We're not here to get drunk with Carl. We're here to be his watchful eyes.

Stanley meanwhile, filled up one-third of his glass, taking Carl's cue.

"But I will have it on the rocks," he said, stressing on the word rocks, biting his lower lip.

"Why must everything you say have to be sexual," I ask, raising my glass for the first toast of the night.

Carl knocked his entire glass back in one gulp.

Stanley and I eyed each other cautiously.

While our dense friend Carl is usually non participative when we're out, partly because he's not always in the zone, he's worryingly quiet that night.

In fact, it's one of those moments when we hoped Carl would be in his dense element so that he won't feel the pain of a breakup.

But Stanley and I kept trying -- alternating between being supportively quiet with Carl, and trying to make him feel better with our usual antics.

Nothing quite worked.

Twenty minutes later, our Macallan was half empty.

"Or half full," Stanley said a tad too cheerfully, before proceeding to fill our glasses with yet another round of drinks.

It didn't take us one hour to order our second bottle.

By then, Stanley was unusually cheerful.

"Keep them coming! Don't stop, don't stop!" Stanley shouted with meaning at the cute bartender, who raised his glass in response.

"This is one thing my sister Adam won't be saying because he's boring in bed with his boring partner J," Stanley continued, looking in my direction.

I raised a finger at Stanley in response.

Carl laughed.

Not so much our doing -- he had been the sole contributor for making our Macallan disappear.

But we took the cue. Carl is showing emotion, and that's good.

Stanley urgently filled our glasses and proposed yet another toast.

"I think we should order something deep fried," I remember saying after what seemed like our 400th toast, feeling a little woozy.

"Adam... we're at a gay bar. We're high. And the only thing you want to put into your mouth is oily food?!" Stanley scolded.

Carl replied automatically: "Yes! Put a cock in your mouth!"

"Big cock, big cock!" Carl continued chanting and clapped his hands like a happy child.

Seeing that Carl was finally warmed up, Stanley took it upon himself to order Carl a song.

Our dense friend has one of the best singing voices we know.

Stanley dragged me to the bar counter because he has limited recognition of Chinese characters.

"This machine is very difficult to operate," Stanley said, slurring his words.

"Hey, future boyfriend, please come and help me," Stanley said to the cute bartender.

And because Carl was VIP that night, our table skipped the queue and immediately was able to sing the next song.

Stanley had very wisely chosen a Cantonese classic -- Hoy Futt Tin Hong (which is loosely translated to mean carefree without boundaries) by Beyond. 

It's not an emotional ballad and the song requires lots of cathartic screaming -- just what Carl needs right now.

And Carl did not disappoint, belting out the song with feeling, hitting the high notes with perfection, galvanising the entire pub to sing and sway along.

If only his love life were that perfect.

By the end of the song, Carl was no longer stoic.

He wasn't chirpy and joyful (that would be Stanley who had by then gone around at least four tables toasting random strangers) but he was at least responsive.

But we were at a point of no return so we promptly ordered our third bottle of Macallan to keep the night going.

"I hate men," Carl said sadly.

Stanley pouted along with Carl and urgently signalled me to do the same.

"I hate men!" I said weakly.

"Yes! Fuck them all!" Carl said angrily.

"Yes! Fuck all the men," Stanley said, sounding energised, and stood up and thrust his hips forcefully into the air several times.

And then, without warning, Stanley covered his mouth and ran towards the toilet.

Carl looked at me and giggled.

Minutes later, Stanley returned and said: "Guys... I just puked. And I am so relieved. I thought I'd lost my gag reflex!"

Carl giggled even harder.

And then, Carl pouted.

"I am so sad," Carl said, beginning to sound like himself for the first time that night.

Stanley went over and hugged Carl from behind.

"Adam, get your fat ass over and complete this group hug," Stanley commanded, waving his hand at me.

"Do you think I'll ever love again?" Carl asked.

"You will," Stanley said firmly, looking at Carl in the eye.

"Just like how I will never stop having sex, you will never stop loving. You'll find the right one soon," said Stanley in his most assuring voice.

"I love you boys," Carl said, his eyes looking like a homeless puppy.

"I love you both too," Stanley said, and whipped out his phone.

"This calls for a photo."

And those photos, posted on Stanlye's Facebook page, would go on to remind us of not only this night, but the fact that we'll always be there for one another.

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

A Rollercoast Ride

In 12 months, newborns can learn to sit up -- and wobble around -- on their own. 

An adult learner can earn an advanced diploma during that time frame too.

And, also, some 1.5 million people around the world can die from the wretched COVID-19 virus in the span of 365 days. 

It's been one year. 

And I know I'm not alone when I say this -- 2020 whisked by really, really, really quickly. 

I guess when things go downhill, gravity makes sure the slump is fast and furious. 

Also feeling very furious is Stanley my sex bunny friend.

"I feel very robbed," he said over a WhatsApp video call with me and Carl the other day. 

"In 2019, all the Fengshui masters and guruji astrologers predicted that 2020 would be a fantastic year for those born in the year of the goat. And just as we 1979-ers are about to step on stage and enjoy the divine spotlight, in floats this dark cloud of COVID that overshadows our glory. WHY?!!"

Carl the dense one, who up till today still has no idea exactly where COVID-19 originated from, nodded fiercely in agreement at his favourite and most commonly used word. 

Indeed, the year had sped us by, marked by grim milestones depending on where we are.

In Singapore, they include the moment first cases were detected. And then the spike in numbers in our workers' dorms. That's followed by the various stages of lock downs in the city. And subsequently the easing of those measures. And then, the pilot cruise to nowhere... followed by the whole ship being lock downed due to one COVID case.

In between those events, we saw changes we never thought we would see in our garden city. 

Lesser traffic, cleaner air.

More food panda cyclists, more joggers.

Stanley would often quip sourly at the increase in sportsmen in Singapore. 

"All these fatties, who have their entire lives to go for a run but chose not to, are suddenly fitness fanatics when Singapore is under lock down!" he would say.

Right on cue, Carl the gym rabbit flexed his python sized biceps, patting them lovingly like they were oversized melons that would win him a prize at the farmer's carnival. 

Carl was one of those who had adapted during the last 12 months. 

When gyms were shut, he turned to home videos to continue pumping his muscles. 

Stanley would later reveal that during the lock down, he too had resorted to various home videos for his fair share of pumping action.

As I look back at my own 12 months, I realise how the worst of COVID-19 had brought out the best in some of us.

My sis for instance, was one of those who lost her job during this period.

During her transition from one tech giant to another, the pandemic hit and although she had already signed a contract with the hiring company, she was told of the change in plans and was thus left jobless.

That didn't entirely break her nor her piggy bank.

Years of saving like a hamster had prepared her for this cold, biting downtime. 

She's got savings that can last her for 5 years and she doesn't depend on her monthly income to pay for some of her recurring expenses. 

But she immediately bit the bullet and cut back on her spending.

Though she was at a relatively high level in her previous job, she had no qualms taking on various part-time jobs while eagerly seeking her next big break. 

On some days, she worked as a data analyst that helped healthcare institutions sort out admin work brought by COVID-19. 

On other days, she was a mystery shopper, getting paid while buying groceries for her own use. 

After seven months, 32 job applications and three rejections from companies which initially promised to hire her, my sis finally secured a job, getting paid higher than her previous position. 

But it hadn't been easy, she confessed later.

She had broken down quietly during those difficult months, not so much because she was tired or couldn't get used to a frugal lifestyle, but more because she couldn't handle not one, not two, but three job offers only to be turned down later on. 

Yet, she put one foot in front of another, making small steps towards brighter days ahead for her. 

Of course, my sis' experience is but a fraction of what others have gone through. 

My partner J's aunt died during the COVID-19 period (from cancer, not COVID).

It was a particularly difficult time for them, given that visiting her during the pandemic was restrictive, and managing a wake amid tight safe-distancing measures wasn't easy. 

I can only imagine the grief Aunt Nora's children felt during that period. 

But they managed to pull through together during this tough time. 

And then, there's my NS friend.

My NS buddy Roger, whose main business is events planning, was nearly bankrupt by COVID-19.

With school-going children to feed and a fast-dwindling business, he was nearly at his wit's end. 

Eventually, he diversified and made sure he didn't put all his eggs in one basket. 

Not wanting to be left out, Stanley too, has learnt to diversify. 

Grindr, Tinder, Growler, Scruff, Gay Romeo -- any gay social app you can name, Stanley has. 

Not only that, he has taken to trawling IG and Facebook to make friends in the last 12 months. 

"Just because I can't meet people physically yet doesn't mean I can't do headhunting activities now," he said the other day, giving the word head extra emphasis.

Besides, I'm determined to put my eggs in many, many, many baskets when the time is ripe, he adds. 

 

 

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

Unpacking Emotions

Last Wednesday was a particularly difficult hump day for me. 

Fortunately, Stanley my sex bunny friend -- who specialises in hump days -- was there for me.

And so was Carl the dense one. 

The two of them had taken leave for a few days to help me pack up six months of my life into one medium-size luggage and one big (and fancy) hand-carry duffel bag.

I had been flown back from Myanmar in April on orders of my company and now that, the management has set a different direction for me, it is now putting me on a chartered flight back to the Enchanted Land.

The agenda of the day was simple.

Help me pack. 

It was a case of all hands on deck now, given that I didn't have much time left.

"Isn't it more fun to have all hands on dick instead?" Stanley asked, handing me and Carl a glass each.

For that afternoon task of packing, Stanley had brought a bottle of white wine. 

"There's work to do -- but first, we drink."

That day, the only activity that was happening was the drinking, not so much the packing. 

And catching up too -- it would be my last few days with the boys and although we had already said our goodbyes when I was first posted to Myanmar, it's not easy. 

Carl the dense one, who is always the last to get the memo, has also been doing some catching up on his own, with the world too.

"Oh my God, did you guys know that Chris Evan's dick pic went viral?" said Carl, sounding like his stagnant brain just got a recent iOS upgrade.

"Wow," Carl said, digesting and taking in the news like he had just awakened from a coma.

"Darling, Chris Evan's accidental leak is what happened many months ago," Stanley said.

Setting his wine glass down, Stanley added "move. with. the. times.," clapping each word in front of Carl's face in a bid to wake our dense friend up. 

"Besides," Stanley continued, "accidental leaks are so passe. The only time I would ever have an accidental leak would be when I'm 89, and trust me darling, that won't be a pretty picture."

Carl paused to think about what Stanley said and 40 seconds later, choked on his wine and promptly set his glass down to wipe his wet, dribbly chin, giving all of us a sneak peek of Stanley's accidental leak future. 

It was an afternoon filled mainly with laughter but deep inside, I was sad. 

By 4pm, the boys left me to do my own packing before I got ready to meet my partner J for dinner. 

"I'm sad," I told J later.

My wise boyfriend of nearly 20 years looked at me and smiled.

"It's okay to be sad. It's natural to be sad. Why don't you list out things you're sad about?"

Later that night, I got down to doing just that. 

I'm fortunate enough to be deemed important by Myanmar to take me back (though I'm riding on my company's clout). I'm flying back on business class. I'm gonna be quarantined in a suite. I'm returning to my second home where my close group of friends await, and where I am the boss of my team. 

So, really, what's there to be sad about?

My family and J are all in good health and are supportive too. 

And that's when it struck me.

It wasn't sadness I was feeling.

It was fear. 

I fear that in my absence, my loved ones would age, fade away, fall ill and there's nothing I can do about it. 

When I told J about it later that night, my sage-like lover says this is all part of life and such fear cannot hold me back.

I told Stanley all about it later on.

"J is right. Don't let fear hold you back. It's all very normal -- I feel the same way too," Stanley said in serious mode.

"It's okay to put your loved one behind. That doesn't mean you will lose connection with them," he said.

"That was exactly what I did after I left your place earlier... found someone on Grindr and I proceeded to put him behind me to feel that connection."

 

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

Up, Up And Away

Last week, I was virgin no more.

The probe was deep, intense and made me feel heady for the 10 seconds that the swap stick was tickling each of my nostrils.

Stanley my sex bunny friend was very proud of my recent COVID-test.

"I am so proud of you," Stanley said right after my test. 

"You've finally broken your last sexual frontier," he said beaming like a proud mamasan. 

I didn't dare ask Stanley to explain further -- God knows what details he would spill. 

Not asking any question too was Carl our dense friend though his inaction was stemmed from his constant state of catching up with the world. 

My COVID test had been spurred by new developments thanks to my company's influence in Myanmar. 

Though borders are still shut and commercial airlines banned from landing, Myanmar's investment ministry has opened its doors to foreigners who can bring in capital flow and let's just say that my firm pumps in a great amount into the country.

Stanley is naturally excited. 

"Firstly, you're entering a place that's currently restricted to entry-- there's the element of the forbidden fruit,"  he said taking a sip of white wine at Original Sin in Holland Village, near the clinic I had gone for my swap test.

"And girl, trust me -- I can bring in lots and lots of flow and I can pump in a great amount too, if Myanmar allows me in," Stanley added. 

Carl is naturally excited too.

"So, what's going on guys, what's the latest with you both?"

Stanley sighed, shook his head and proceeded to put food on the table promptly ordering some grilled cheese dish, some hummus dips, some salad and some vegetarian pasta. 

The latest is, I'm flying back to Myanmar to also continue to put food on the table.

I'm one of the very lucky ones who hadn't been sacked or received a pay cut during this horrible COVID period.

In fact, I'm thankful my firm flew me back for half a year during the start of the pandemic so that I can be fully taken care of in Singapore and not on foreign land should I fall sick.

But the senior analysts in my firm are now plotting my return to the country with news of a vaccine being developed. 

I can only imagine the strings my management had to pull and the red tapes it had to untangle but the long and short of it is that I managed to get on a chartered flight and a special permit to return.

Carl looked deflated when full realisation hit him. 

"Why are we having vegetarian for dinner?" he asked when all the dishes arrived at our table. 

Stanley didn't even bother to sigh and shake his head and proceeded to put food into his mouth, for once using that organ the way it was meant to be used. 

By the time we were 80 per cent full, Carl began scratching the surface of the entire situation. 

"So... you'll have to leave Singapore soon?"

"And you have to leave within a week?"

"And then... you're not going to come back until it's safe to travel?" Carl asked, his tone sounding increasingly more depressed, like a child whose favourite toy had been taken away. 

Stanley set down his fork and looked at Carl with pity in his eyes. 

Yes, Carl... I'll have to pack up and fly within a week. It's gonna be a whirlwind week -- I have to pack up, tie up all the admin loose ends, wrap up all the hugs and goodbyes with my loved ones, I said. 

"Okay," Carl said with disappointment in his voice. 

"I guess we will try to spend as much time with you before you return to Cambodia," he said sincerely. 

Stanley looked at me, rolled his eyes, sighed and gave up.

 

 

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

Gone Girl

Stanley recently dug up some old photos and couldn't help but share it in our group chat.

Carl immediately posted a gif of Snow White retreating into the woods in fear.

I believe it was also Carl's actual reaction in real life: Tossing his phone onto the couch and fleeing into his bedroom, his python-size arms flailing wildly during the hasty escape.

I legit choked on my morning coffee, splattering the hot liquid all over my morning newspaper.

"Stanley, those photos are to be burnt and never to see the light of day again!"

It was a very happy group photo of me, Stanley my sex bunny friend, Carl the dense one along with four other gay friends in our youthful, halcyon days.

The photo was taken at a chalet, marking one of our gay friends' birthday and there was a big birthday cake, stacks of presents, loads of alcohol, and we were all in drag.

Yes.

We wore dresses, wigs, and drew our faces with colourful cosmetics which we thought back then, were beautiful.

Seeing those very photos now made me want to cry, the way kids burst out in tears when a clown enters their periphery.

We looked hideous.

"Why did we think we were gorgeous then, when in retrospect we looked like characters from The Exorcist?" I wrote in our group chat.

"I love The Exorcist," Stanley says. "I have always been fascinated by films that involve people being entered and fully taken over by that entity."

"Why do you still have those photos, Stan?!" Carl typed later.

"Guys, do you think I looked fat in that dress?" Stanley asked.

"I believe you asked us this 20 years ago," I said.

Turns out, Stanley was doing some random spring cleaning in his attic (which serves as his room in his three-storey house) when he came across a box under his bed.

As with all horror movies, anything you find stashed under the bed in the attic or some basement would spell creepy trouble.

"BURN THEM!" I said.

"But... when I held these photos and closed my eyes, these photos spark joy," said Stanley, channelling his inner Marie Kondo.

"These ought not to spark joy. They ought to spark fear and send chills down your spine."

"I don't think so," Stanley said. "My drag photo will send chills not down a man's spine, but to happier regions down south."

"And, don't be so harsh on yourself, Adam. I mean, yes, you looked hideous in drag but I still love you," Stanley said.

Carl remained quiet throughout the exchanges.

"But Carl... you do look ridiculous. You look like a rugby player with large shoulder pads."

That stirred Carl to life, who started typing, and posted a gif of a yellow sun bouncing from cloud to cloud.

"Really? I look like a rugby player? Yeah.. I think so too. I had started gymming seriously at that age," Carl said, choosing only to focus on the good in life.

The year was in early 2000, and the location was at a chalet in Changi.

The plan was a birthday drag show.

The birthday boy was Shawn, one of our closest friends who has since migrated to the UK, and who, for his birthday wish, was for all of us to put on a drag performance for him.

And so we gamely did.

Stanley was very serious and got right down to researching bra sizes and how to make tits.

He even roped in an external expert: Steff his best girl friend from JC who was promptly named cosmetic consultant for the production.

The sporting and fun loving lawyer-to-be had even loaned us her dresses so that we could be as real as possible.

Carl, whose manly shoulders could not fit any girly dresses, came up with a brilliant idea of wrapping his body with bedsheets, paired with a women's belt to give his figure some accent.

Next was the hairpiece.

I was the only one among the group who kept long hair, thinking it was a good idea to have a cool Jap-surfer dude look.

But the rest of the boys needed wigs.

Thankfully, one of us in the group had access to wigs because he had friends who did drag shows for a small fee in gay pubs.

Carl opted for a long black wig to complete the Pontianak look.

Stanley, according to Steff, can go for a clean girl's look given that he was the fairest of us all.

So his was a wig that came with two pony tails.

For days, we chose songs and rehearsed group choreographies at Stanley's home.

On performance night, we gave it our all.

I remember Shawn having such a good time, clapping, wolf-whistling, and cheering us on.

The booze made it even more fun.

By the end of the night, all of us were dancing to gay anthems: I Will Survive, It's Not Right But It's Okay (Thunderpuss version) and classics like It's Raining Men.

At one point, Stanley looked at his lopsided wig in the mirror and loudly proclaimed he looked like he was raped at the chalet entrance, before quipping, "and I should be so lucky someone wants to even do that to me in this state. I look full drag -- like what the cat dragged into the chalet".

It was a fun night indeed.

Having our faces painted, disguised in women costumes was strangely liberating.

"I think I'll keep these photos. It's one of my happiest memories growing up," Stanley said.

"But full disclosure -- I still love my ding dong. In fact, I love it so much I make it a point to always engage it in activities, so I will remain a man for as long as I live," Stanley said, giving us full exposure.

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