Taking Birthdays for Granted

Recently, this nice guy sent me an email to check up on how I was doing. In his email, he talked about how he just turned 27 a couple of days before. Which immediately reminded me of my own birthday that is also around the corner, and my gradual advancement to "the scary age".

It used to be 21 when I was a teenager, thinking that 18, 19 and 20 was a period where the passage of time was going to be kind and that it'll take forever to pass. But currently being in my twenties, 27 is now the next "scary age". It's the age where most people tend to look amazingly good, have successful careers, established a stable footing in life, found their other half or get married, and possibly even become billionaires or founders of various society-changing empires. 

I am fully aware of being perceived as naive when saying these things, but truth be told, that's just my insecurity talking. No matter how much common sense I make, or how unreasonable I seem to think, I'm still human.

Thinking about birthdays reminded me very much of how I, for the past few birthdays have always felt depressed because I am so afraid of growing another year older and growing into nothing. You know, the whole not achieving enough thing. I end up doing nothing special for my birthday because I've lost faith in my own life, my own destiny and felt: "What's the point? Things have never been great. My pattern in life has always felt the same and will always be the same. There's nothing special about celebrating me."

However, if it's one thing I've come to realise over the past year in trying to understand life through my struggles, is that some of us take birthdays for granted. Rather than celebrating it, we dread it. Thinking that we feel old and that we are nothing special but an ageing commodity who hasn't accomplished enough.

Now the painful truth about birthdays is that we'll never know how many of them we'll have in a lifetime, and how many of them we'll live through to see. I've known people who never made it past 18, who never made it past 33 and who never made it past 55. 

Therefore we tend to forget the most important meaning about birthdays, is that it signifies that you've successfully lived for another year of your life. It's an incredible feat, an achievement if not.

A wise friend once said to me: "Life is a celebration. You have to celebrate your achievements! No matter how big or how small. Celebrate it! You have to celebrate life! You have to celebrate you." 

Which brings me to my next question to myself: "Are you going to, or will you be ready to put effort into celebrating your birthday again? This year, next year or ever? What if you knew how many of them you have left?"

Everybody has their own definitions and parameters of what success really is. But while on the subject of this topic, I can't help but wonder if longevity or the term "having lived", are crucial elements that can be taken into account when assessing or determining a person's level of success in life. Because living, or "having lived" is truly what life on Earth is all about. Is it not?

I Pulled a Hit-and-Run

The world is a very discreet place and most of the time, I do feel like I am the only foolish guy walking on Earth, struggling through the most embarrassing situations in trying to discover gay life. It does feel very lonely and out of place, especially when we're invisible and clueless.

So kids, here goes a couple of my cringe-worthy faux-pas for growth documentation purposes. Hopefully someday, it will become a partial antidote to your sense of feeling-out-of-place should you one day find yourself at a similar crossroad while trying to break into gay life. Being foolish is a beautiful part of learning how to be human.

I PULLED A HIT-AND-RUN

A couple of months after coming to terms with my attraction for guys, I wasn't thinking at my best. The worse was having to go through this while living in a city where beautiful guys would pass me by every single day. This constant bombardment of indescribable thoughts and emotions incited by the passage of these guys pushed me over the edge where I had to constantly reassured myself that I was still mentally sane.

I was definitely feeling a truckload of emotions but I couldn't clearly compartmentalise and decipher what they were. Lust, longing, love, sexual frustration, fear, insecurity, inferiority... I had no idea how to deal with them or what was going on.

However, one urge was very clear. I was very adamant about wanting to establish contact with the beautiful straight guys I come across from my everyday surroundings. Basically in a non-gay environment. From the métro to supermarket aisles, from restaurants to the public squares. I find myself being overwhelmingly drawn to them. The closest description I could come up with was that I was a walking pathetic love sick teenager, in the body of a guy in his twenties.

So I decided to write my number down on a small piece of paper and carried it around with me in my wallet. The trick was to initiate a discreet hit-and-run, in other words, casually passing my contact to the guys that I'm mesmerised with and then walking away. Disregarding the fact as to whether they're straight or happen to be gay. "Or the fact that I could have been punched in the fucking face for being stupid."

Writing it all down at this moment, I didn't know what was I thinking then. The frustrated state of mind I must have been in to come up with a haphazard idea like this. The catch was that I didn't even know what I was looking for or what would come out of it?

Thinking about all the possibilities in my head, I think it went something like this: see attractive guy - attempt eye contact - hit-and-run - he calls (because he 'miraculously happens' to be into guys like me) - meet up - warm up chat - his apartment - make-out - sexual exploration? There, we have a crazy idea.

Throughout the following weeks, I forced myself to practice subtle eye-contact despite not being very good at it. I checked out many guys and was so ready to walk up and put my plan into action. But somehow, I couldn't bring myself to do it out of common decency and also the realisation that it's pointless because the world is straight. However, I would later feel the strong pull of regret in my heart for chickening out.

"Come on. Remember that gay kiss? And how you made yourself go from denial to gay bar in less than 48 hours after the conversation with R? That was all so hard! But yet you grew an enormous pair and did all the impossible. Don't tell me you can't pull off a harmless hit-and-run now after all that?"

Weeks went by and I still didn't have the balls to do it. Then came a day where I was wandering around the gay neighbourhood of the city. I happened to be inspecting a product at a shop when I discovered one of the sales assistant was a hot guy. He was masculine, metrosexual, and most probably gay. I knew I had an undeveloped gaydar, but I could definitely feel this one. His sense of dressing, his perfect hair, the way he moves. I may be wrong but he's attractive and it's now or never.

In the spirit of being considerate to the other person, discretion was my utmost priority. I knew I was embarrassing myself, but I could also save my target from the agony of feeling uncomfortable in a public place by keeping my intentions low. I loiter around a little longer until there were no other customers and tried to catch his gaze. I think I caught it, I think I didn't. Technically it wasn't ey- "Stop over thinking, or you'll lose your momentum."

I was breaking out in almost-cold-sweat and feeling extremely nervous. "Calm down. Why does it feel like I've just murdered someone and currently thinking of how to hide the body?" While he was packing some boxes next to me, I bent down quietly, placed the piece of paper with my number where he could see it, smiled while maintaining eye-contact, then turned around to walk out of the shop.

Back on the street, I was still shaking in shock. I couldn't believe the ridiculous stunt I just pulled. Mortifying? Well it was embarrassing. "Jeez, what the fuck was that all about? Why the hell would I do that? I feel like a complete idiot and a loser. So stupid!" I still cringe whenever I replay the scene in my head. It reminded me very much of the sentiments I felt after kissing a guy for the first time. But for now, it was more of feeling victorious. For knowing how it finally feels to have the balls to once again be courageous. It didn't even bother me what that dude was going to think or do with the piece of paper I left him. Maybe he'll laugh, maybe he'll show everyone, maybe he'll call, I don't know. If he calls, he calls. Simple as that. Maybe someday, this will all make sense.

The Far Eastern Dream

I'm never one to document dreams because most often, their sequence never make sense in writing. But this morning, I woke up feeling overwhelmed. Never have I had such a memorable, extensive travel dream that I could recall in such specific detail. Throughout the entire day, I couldn't get the scenes and emotions out of my head. So here it goes, irrelevantly in writing before it fades.

Dream Scene 1

The dream took place in Beijing, a destination I've toured in person a couple years back. In the dream, I found myself wandering around the city as a tourist. A couple of familiar faces were there too, friends and family. Whether or not if we were travelling together on holiday or on a school trip, wasn't clear. But each one of us went our separate ways.

I remember talking to some people about witnessing the raising of the Chinese flag at sunrise in Tiananmen Square. I then told my younger brother whom was with me that I wanted to visit Jingshan Park in order to get an aerial view of the Forbidden City, and were planning on going to walk around Wangfujing after. My visual memory of Beijing was clearly very impressive in this dream, although I've only been there once.

Dream Scene 2

For some reason, I was again a traveller, staying in a tourist-filled village in Bali for quite some time. I was lost in this maze of local eateries, art markets and speciality shops. The village was a bustling multi-tiered sloped settlement, surrounded by an amazing vista of lush green vegetation and tiers of beautifully manicured rice fields that could rival the intricate layers of even the most impeccable wedding cake.

Then, I found myself wandering around the village with this guy, an attractive man in his 30s. He resembled one of those successful professional guys in business who was on holiday. I couldn't gauge if he was a lover, a fling or a boyfriend, but I definitely felt a strong sense of attachment or closeness, an emotional bond between us. We were together in Bali. 

We were lost amidst the village pathways, trying to find our way back to one of the Balinese houses I was staying in. We were goofing around as I latched on playfully to his shoulders and straddled him as he carried me on his back. Boy, it was fun. It felt so right, so comfortable being with him. "We must be lovers then.", I thought. In trying to find our way, we explored secluded pathways and climbed narrow steps to get from one village tier to the next.

Then somehow in this dream, while I was on his back, I remembered the previous dream of being in Beijing. For some reason, the confusion threw me off guard as I told him I wasn't supposed to be here and that I was actually supposed to be in Beijing.

He was a little upset as he put me back down on the ground, held my hand and looked me in the eye with longing frustration, and said: "Make up your mind! Choose your destination. Where are you supposed to be?"

His question got me thinking. As logic and realisation filled my conscious mind, I felt really sad all of a sudden because I realised this scenario, of us being together in Bali wasn't real. I stood there staring into his eyes, and immediately understood every single thing that was playing on his mind through his gaze: "Stay with me. But if you do leave, I will still carry on without you. Are you sad because you have to leave?"

Yes, I thought to myself. I'm sad because I like being with him. But most importantly, I remember telling him despondently: "It's because you are not real in my life. WE are not real."

As I said that, I could hear my own voice mumbling it out in bed. I was aware that my conscious mind was awakening, and that I was going to wake-up from this dream at any moment. But still nothing happened. Without hesitation, I jumped on his back one last time and revel in the last moments of feeling close and connected to him. He smiled and as he turned to look at me, I finally woke up.

It was a weirdly beautiful dream. Beyond my control too.

"Contentment Leaves Us Far from Evolution"

About 2 years back, I remember being at a conference in which various influential or successful figures within my field of study and the industry were invited to talk about their work. One of the speakers was a native resident of a neighbouring capital city. Of which, recent riots and protests to call for political change within his country have generated massive amounts of international publicity.

During his speech, we somehow drifted to the topic of his city. In which he casually commented: "Your city is a nice city. Very peaceful, unlike mine which is now famous for the recent chaos and riots that have been going on."

The auditorium fit for a concert hall, chuckled and laughed with mild disdain. Everybody within the region probably felt a sense of pride that their city was not like his.

Upon seeing that reaction from the audience, the speaker smiled and responded confidently: "You laugh. But I can tell you that this city of yours, will never be like ours. It will never experience change because, contentment leaves us far from evolution."

I sat there, completely blown away, revelling in the echo of what he just said and the silence that engulfed the hall. "Contentment leaves us far from evolution".

Discovering the Gay Banker from London

I can't believe it's October. October 2012. Last year, it was in October that a simple conversation over dinner with a guy named R, ignited my decision to come to terms with my homosexuality. It's not like I never knew all along, but to finally reach a point where you hear yourself say: "Gosh. I, am gay. Gay. ME." And then realise that this is not a game, but a life-altering lottery that has happened to you. A bad one.

This was also after my first daunting attempt in getting myself to walk into a gay bar. For weeks, my days were gloomy and grey. They were filled with depressed feelings, tears of sorrow, tears of frustration, tears of fear. I didn't know how to handle it all. My heart just felt so blocked, so compressed and on the verge of distortion in a hermetically pressurised tank. Everything felt so low. I asked myself one very important question: "What now?"

I felt so defeated and alone. Everybody around me is not gay, how can they understand? Having absolutely no one or no where to turn, I reached for Google. In the search bar, I typed every key word I could think of: gay what to do, am I gay?, think I'm gay, gay depressed, gay scared, gay in closet, gay coming-out. The most memorable entry was "gay and invisible" because that was exactly how I felt. Look what came out of it.

Typing those key words in the search bar and scrolling through the search results still instilled an indescribable sense of guilt and shame. It was eating me up slowly from the inside as these were entries I was previously too afraid to confront. I guess I just wasn't ready. And even though I was all alone in the apartment with my computer, I would instinctively look behind my back just to see if anybody was there. It felt like something was watching me when it was indeed just unreasonable self-conjured guilt. That soul-corroding feeling of being consumed by my own shame and fear, I'll never forget it.

[  GB, The Gay Banker from London  ]

Then, by chance or by fate, I stumbled upon an enlightening blog called the Gay Banker. I read a couple of entries and was instantly engrossed. I spent the next few weeks trawling through the 6 year archives of his blog, post by post. It provided me with tremendous insights into the interesting life of an advanced gay man, and how unbelievably positive, not to mention successful one can turn out to be. It was my only source of comfort and I wouldn't do anything else except read his blog because it kept me going inside.

Reading the Gay Banker was kind of like reading a gay guide book that spoke to me so much. It opened me up in ways I never thought would have been possible. Coming from an extremely sheltered background, I felt a sense of conflict with who I thought I was and who I now have to be. It feels very liberating on one hand, but also hard to digest on the other.

It was also from his blog that I learnt about the fundamental rules and basic practices of the gay world. Kind of like going back to school. I was exposed to terms I never even knew existed such as: eye-contact, cruising, sexual encounters, open relationships, civil-partnership, gay saunas, online cruising etc, along with their practical usages.

The interesting posts and constant encouraging positivity on his blog kept reinforcing the hope and idea in my head that there really was more to being gay than being at the bottom of the world. "Sure. There's always more that happens for other guys, but never for you!", goes my inner voice.

Feeling the need to talk to him, I started drafting a couple of long emails. However, I didn't know where to begin or what to tell him. How can words describe this inexplicable phase I was going through. All I know is that I ended up altering and rewriting many versions of the letter but never got around to sending it. The paragraphs were never ending as it could never fully contain what I wanted to convey.

And considering the large amount of emails he get from young gay guys who are probably struggling through similar situations, thought I'd save my chance of writing to him for another occasion in the future when I'm more developed and really needed his words of wisdom. For now, I should just figure out how to walk down this path on my own. Even if it means limping and stumbling my way through.

Putting my truckload of thoughts and emotions into words was both mentally draining and emotionally tedious. But seeing these intangible sentiments that can only be felt in body and in mind, in physical writing, has never felt so therapeutic as it helped worked out many thoughts. This was when it hit me that I was going to need an organised outlet to document not just what I wanted to tell The Gay Banker, but also everything that I was going through in life and about life.

I do keep track of the practical advices he gives his readers, particularly younger gay guys and sometimes try to apply them to myself. Being in this crucial period of discovery, I'm too good of an experimentation material to waste. Hence, a journal of deep documentation has never been more useful in helping me grow and understand life. In my own way and through my own eyes.

London is a city of 8 million people, the world in one. While riding the tube or walking on the streets, I couldn't stop thinking about GB and was taking note of every single guy within my field of vision, wondering if he and I could have walked past each other or crossed paths unknowingly. I don't know what my fate with London holds, or if I'm ever meant to be a Londoner again in my lifetime. But I'm always looking forward to the next opportunity to go back.

The Gay Banker is somebody who has indirectly changed my life. And even though he might not know I exist, but I'd like the chance to meet him for real one day, in London or wherever fate might bring us both so I could sincerely take him out to lunch or dinner, and thank the man himself. And in the spirit of once again experimenting with the Law of Attraction through this blog...

"I will meet The Gay Banker."