That time when I threw a book at the Irish...

Everyone who knows me well would know that I'm quite the temperamental guy in every way possible.

While most times, I'm more of a verbal person (which means I yell, scream and shout to vent out my angst), there are times where physical actions are involved.

Again, if you know me well enough, you'd know that when I get physical (hah! I always do *wink*), it gets ugly.

For over two decades of my life, I've hardly shown that side of me with the exception of my parents and siblings because I find it quite ugly (post-angst ventilation).

But you (The Irish) are one of the other few outside of my family who'd seen it.

I still remember it as clear as day. It was a mere two days before our first holiday together and we were headed out to Mornington Peninsula for a three-day getaway.

It was supposed to be amazing and we were counting down the days and crossing our calendars with plenty of excitement.

Just think about it. Hot springs, wine tasting (that was mainly you. I don't drink), the sunny beaches and comfy bed and breakfast. In one word: BLISS.

Then it happened. Two days before we hop into your red Holden Cruze and drive off on sunrise, you blurted it out.

It was one of those nights, where we just sat at the couch mindlessly watching TV with me lying on your lap.

"Erm... sweetie, I think we have to postpone the trip. I have a last minute project to complete by the week. So, I have to stay back," you said, quite nervously I might add.

Perhaps you had a premonition that I would go ballistic? I don't know.

All I remember was jolting up and backed up from you with eyes wide opened. "WHAT!?" I snapped.

Okay, before I continue this, I have to admit one thing. On hindsight, I might have been a tad too dramatic, but anyway... back to the story.

Right, so I snapped out and you just looked at me painfully and try to comfort me.

I didn't know what went in my head (still don't, by the way), but I yapped on and complained. You tried to explain and I was having none of it.

Even if you said, we could go again another time. My argument was our schedule hardly match up. See, I was a barista, freelance writer and part-time photographer, while you were on the white collar, finance side.

It went on for a good half hour and finally, you gave up. You probably thought I was hysterical and such a drama queen (I agree too, but hey, you signed up for this).

You said with a sigh, "You're probably not going to like what I'm saying now but I'm gonna leave you alone for a while to cool down and then we'll talk. You can take the living room and I'll take the bedroom."

You started walking off. See, you were always the one who fumes quietly. You hardly ever yelled. Always with that calm, soothing voice that tries to reason with me and obviously, I was the spoilt little brat who wants things going my way.

I knew you were actually angry but you kept it in. You know that it wouldn't do us any good if the fight goes on.

But again, I was not having any of it. I stared with disbelief at the fact you want to walk out of this. I grabbed whatever that came to my hand. A hardcover novel.

I threw it and it slammed to your back. A loud smack and it fell to the floor. A small patch on your back turned red (Yes, he wasn't wearing a top. We're at home and yes, I packed quite a throw when I'm mad).

You turned with your eyes widening, nose flaring and mouthing a "F...". I was prepared for a throw down and then you did the unexpected.

You stopped mid-word. The "F" never continued. You clenched and released your fist a few times and sighed again. You said, "Talk to me when you're calmed down."

And then you walked into your room.

I sat there shocked at my actions. Even in my state of frenzy, I know the book was a tad too much. Okay, fine. It was way too much.

I continued sitting down and staring at the ceiling, while voices in my head argued. Yes, I talk to myself occasionally to rationalise things.

I realised I was wrong. I was an ass who got too unreasonable just because you always let me have my way. If it was a reversed situation, you'd give me a sad look and say "It's okay. Next time."

I calmed down and timidly walked into your room. Your eyes were at the door even though you had an opened book at hand.

I was about to apologise and somehow, you knew and motioned me forward before I could mouth out the words.

I crawled into bed, snuggled in your arms and whispered "Sorry".

You laughed and gave me a kiss. You said, "Mate, that was quite the fit you threw. My back is still tingling and burning."

I snaked my hands to your back to feel it and true enough, your skin was slightly tough and a small bump (probably swollen) was there.

I was flushing red with embarrassment and said meekly"I wasn't thinking."

And you just said, "Yeah. You really weren't. You owe me a swollen back and I owe you a trip. Don't worry, it'll come sooner than you think."

Then I rushed my lips over and kissed him again...


So... yeah. That's it. Sorry if it bored you to death. Anyhow, weekend is here and Raya is following up. Have a great festive week ahead!

Love you fags and hags out there. Have a good weekend.
Yours Queerly xoxo

When memories of you flood back into my mind

I still remember all the times when I lie down on your lap reading my books and you casually comb your hands through my hair absently, all while you're reading your own book.

Or that time when you gave me a back rub and say "I love you" while I was cooking in the kitchen.

And I still remember those mornings when I woke up with you by my side and I just can't stop smiling. You'll open your eyes, all drowsy from your deep sleep, and  say "Good morning, love."

Yes, I am getting all emotional with all of you reading this right now.

"What happened?" you ask. First was that one post someone shared on my Facebook talking about how you know that the person you are dating is the one.

Then there was that new web series from China that my friend recommended. It is a glorious 15-episode web drama series (go watch it. It's so sweet and cheesy that it made me feel lonely and depressed, all while giggling about it.)

The series is called "Addicted", a gay romance drama set in a high school in Beijing. You can watch it on YouTube (here's the link: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fkMVtBVoXzE)

Watching it made me all giddy with love and brought back so many memories about my ex-boyfriend.

So I've decided to write about the first time we met and how we got into our first date.

Now, back to my emotionally charged post.

His name is... let's just call him the Irish. No, he's not from Ireland but he is Australian and of Irish descendant.

He is a pure-born-and-bred Australian who lived his whole life in Melbourne (can I hear a "Oy, Oy, Oy" from you?).

I met you one fine autumn day on my way back from shopping. I spotted you walking around the mall by himself. He was a sight to behold.

Casually dressed in a cotton shirt and chinos paired with a black pair of glasses, you were walking towards the bus stop.

I was too and decided to follow you from behind (yes, I was stalking him). In my defense, I was walking in the same direction.

As if some higher gay being heard my prayer, you boarded on the same bus as me. We made brief eye contact and you smiled.

I was pretty sure I made some sort of face when I tried to smile, but you weren't bothered by it. You continued reading your book.

I sat opposite of you and kept stealing glances at you. You just kept on reading – clearly transported elsewhere.

When we reached the train station, I got down the bus thinking that I probably won't see you again, but you were right behind me.

Our roads forked as you walked into the university campus next to the station and I walked towards the train platform.

I kept thinking, "Damn, he was hot! I wonder if he studies at that TAFE. Maybe I should drop by this area more often."

As I was daydreaming all about you, you appeared in the corner of my eye. I turned and you smiled again. I returned the smile and am pretty sure I was flushing in red.

When the train arrived, you walk into the carriage in front of you, while I got into mine, which was a few down yours.

And I thought to myself, "Well, it's not like he's going to come sit in your carriage. Damn it! I should've sneaked to the spot near his side, so that I get into his carriage and stare at him more."

(Stop judging. When you see a hot guy, you'd do that too. No. Don't try and say otherwise. I know.)

Then it happened. By the graces of god (or whoever that did it. Cher, was that you?), you walked into my carriage and boldly sat a few seats opposite of me.

You caught me gawking (possibly with my mouth opened), but I took the initiative and smiled at you first.

I didn't expect you to say anything but you said, "Nice weather today huh? Cool but with just enough amount of sun."

Then the conversation continued, you were funny and so charming. I was in heavens as I try to make more conversation with you.

Looking back, any guy would've thought I'm a little crazy. I was yapping on and on about everything, but you didn't.

You thought I was incredibly cheerful and rather 'cute'. I still didn't believe you when you told me that on our second date (but that's for later).

The train ride was 40 minutes long but it felt like 5 instead. When we reached the city, I was sure that this would be where we part ways. I thought you kept on to my flow of conversation because you're being nice.

When we tagged out of the gates and I walked off. You asked, "You don't have anything on now right? Wanna grab a coffee while you wait for your friend?"

I said "yes!" immediately and we headed off together. That became our first unofficial date and till now, I still remember it.

You'll always be the love of my life and even though we are in different continents and we never kept in touch anymore, nothing will change that.

I Love You Irish.


So... that's how I met him. More to come soon I hope. I'll try and update more.

Love you fags and hags out there. Have a good weekend.
Yours Queerly xoxo

Mid 20s gay conundrums: Being taken seriously

 (Photo by Coming Out on Top)

As a mid 20s gay man who prefers to date older, more matured men, there comes many a times (in Malaysia), where I find an interesting guy that I fancy but left hanging because they think you're too young for them?

Before I go deeper into this conundrum of mine, let me define my preferred type of older gentlemen.

• Someone who is about the age of 30. Usually between 28 to 36 years old.
• Matured with a stable job and well cultured.
• Someone who can carry a conversation with you without being too vain (we're gay, there's always a vain moment, but not all the time)
• Someone who respects space and boundaries when it comes to a relationship

So I'm about 26 this year and most of the times, I find younger men unattractive when it comes to having a proper relationship.

Yes, they might be good looking with rocking abs. That's good and all but they are nothing but eye candies.

In my terms, they are "nice to see, nice to hold (literally) but once deeper into it, it gets boring and off-putting because they are either too clingy or can't think of anything but getting you home for a fuck.

So I tend to initiate conversations with older gentlemen who I feel more in sync with. That's when the problems kick in, while we are great in conversations and all, it always comes down to a single thing – I'm too young for them.

In their eyes, I am this young kid who is barely old enough. Whenever I say I like to have a steady relationship, they will laugh it off like I am joking. I am constantly friend-zoned.

The thing is I do want to settle down. I am tired of the partying and lapping up hot young things for non-committed relations.

The older men often take me as this understudy that they felt compelled to mentor. They take me as the little brother (actually sister) who just got inducted to the homo-hood and needs to be guided.

But I am not. While I can't say I am very matured but I think I have bypassed the twenties zone, where parties, sex and late nights are priority.

(Photo by Coming Out on Top)

I am perfectly content with my cup of coffee, a good read and a nice date night out. Then possibly followed by hot sex with my partner.

In Malaysia, it just seems impossible. They are two types of guys I attract.

1. Young boys in their early 20s (possibly 18 and 19 too) who wants sex, sex and more sex. The ones who don't bother getting to know you and after two minutes of conversation, they either want sex or they say they love me and wants to be in a relationship.
2. The other group is the men over 50s (most of the time, even 60s) who wants a young boy toy to satisfy their closeted desires.

While I am never one to judge, these two types of men are just not in my attraction scope.

Then when I finally men that are exactly how I like them, they often friend-zoned me or make me part of their sisterhood entourage.


So comes my question to all of you out there reading this, how can I escape this conundrum?

Maybe I am still immature for having this rant about it? I don't know. Any thoughts?



Love you fags and hags out there. Have a good weekend.
Yours Queerly xoxo

#LoveWins: Rainbows exploded on my feed

 

(Photo: @marcjacobs) 

 

"Oh Toto, I don't think we're in Kansas anymore!"

That was my initial thought when I opened my Instagram feed on the morning of 27th June 2015 (which is actually the 26th in America).

As far as my feed went, it all had one single similarity – the hashtag '#LoveWins'. I'm sure many had already talked about it and I am ten days late to the party.

But hey, it's my blog and my prerogative.

Even though it happened in the United States and it is not the first country who did so, it still marked a big step for the LGBTQ community.

Even for those in Malaysia, now we see hope that change might actually come. 

Well, it's that or we will all pack our bags and fly off to New York, California and heck, even Texas and Louisiana to get hitched with a hunky hot man (I'm sure most of you reading this will have the same thought).

It's the exact phenomenon that went through the heads of many anti-gay Americans, all who have said that they want to move to Canada.

Us Malaysians want it too. Canada, America, Netherlands, UK or anywhere else that would take us.

That aside, I was in pure ecstasy when I saw my feed – both Facebook, Instagram and YouTube.

 

(Photo by: @brian_atwood)

It was a major step for our community and even though, I am in Malaysia, I was very happy for my friends who are in the States.

Heck, I even changed my Facebook profile photo to join in the party and repost Instagram photos to celebrate. I was very happy to see so many of my friends celebrating the occasion even though they are straight.

But then I realised, there are some ignorant brats who joined the party without knowing what they are celebrating. While it is good that they are spreading the message, some of them changed their profile photos into the rainbow overlaid effect (Thank to Facebook's Celebrate Pride tool), without knowing what they changed it for.

They did it either because 1.) it looks pretty or 2.) everyone is doing it and they felt the need to. And that's just annoying.

Maybe it's just me but I find it annoying and then there are those who took it upon themselves to be keyboard heroes and start spouting nonsense. Whether if it's opposing the celebration or are flaming other people for not celebrating.

I do agree that we should do our part in one way or another but doing it to join the bandwagon is just not cool. It's like Malaysian politics where people comment and trash the topic, even though they never voted during the elections.

It just irks me a lot, that's all. 

 (Photo by Coming Out on Top)

Putting all that aside, congratulations to the US and I'll be packing my bags and moving over the first chance I have. 

After all, New York is my final destination. While I am born and bred in Malaysia, lived temporarily in Melbourne and now based in KL. I would someday move to that concrete jungle where dreams are made of.

Preferably with my man, a cute dog, a loft apartment (pre-war and rent-controlled please) and a fabulous job to boot!


Love you fags and hags out there. Have a good weekend.
Yours Queerly xoxo

Where Are My Gaybies?

Just the other day, I was talking to my fag hag #2, whom from now on will be called Roozilla. We were talking about my second cousins (my cousin’s kids). MY cousin has two kids now – a boy and a girl.

While the boy is a spoilt brat, the girl is plain adorable. I love that little pink bundle of joy so much!

Then came the topic of having our own. Oh, how I wish I would have my little gayby soon. 

Well before that, I’ll have to hunt down the father first. My first choice is, of course, MATT BOMER!

Dear Matt Bomer, can you be my baby's daddy?

I’ve always had the dream of starting my own family and have kids of my own. I am like the typical girl who thinks about how many kids I want and their ideal names.

If it is a boy, he shall be named Callum, Caleb, Lukas or Aleksandr. 

As for a girl, the princess shall be named Alessandra, Olivia, Cara or Anna (French and not English - pronounced as Ah-Na).

Yeah, I am crazy like that. Ideally, I want two boys and a girl. The eldest should be the boy followed by a middle sister and youngest boy. That way there would be competition with the boys and middle child syndrome can be avoided since she is the only girl in the family.

I want a family like his!

Then comes the question, “How am I getting my hands on the bundle of joy?”. As far as I know there are a few options:

• Surrogacy with a stranger - That is the most popular option to us now - many thanks to the shows like New Normal. (Oh how I wish my husband to be would be as hot as David played by Justin Bartha!)
  
  But the key here is finding a good EGG and a good surrogate for my baby. And who's seed shall we use? Mine or hubby-to-be's? Shall we mix in a cup and hope for the best or take turns. The first is mine and second will be his vice versa.
  
• Adoption - Another obvious choice thanks to celebrities like Madonna and Angelina Jolie. It is the common option since both of us can be pregnant. this way we can help some poor kid left behind by their parents. A great philanthropic effort but alas, one would always want their own flesh and blood.
  
• Find a lesbian friend - Similar to surrogacy but  we collaborate with the lesbian friend we know and get her pregnant. The hard part is will we be the parents or share custody with the lesbian? And worse, who's gonna be the one doing the lesbian? Me or hubby-to-be? Or we inject with a syringe?

This is the few options I can think of (for now). I think I'd prefer option 1 (Surrogacy with a stranger). This way, we can avoid the question of custody as everything is pretty much a transaction. It's like baking but the oven have no rights to the cupcake. We as the customers have the full right to it.

I know it sounds like we are buying a baby but that is the truth we have to face as gays.

So what's your take? Surrogacy, a lesbian or adopt a baby?  
And there is also financial to think about when doing surrogacy. Let's hope my future prince is a loaded one with mountains of lucrative shares and successful business. Think Wall Street men but a loving and caring partner.

While all is uncertain for now, I know one thing for sure. I would be the doting parent that would pamper the children. I will also be the stylish dad that can dress up their baby well but none of those dramatic ones like the ones your see in Modern Family. Though I am sure as hell the artsy and creative fun dad!

Hence, I need a more serious partner to be the bad guy and discipline them. 

So who wants to be my baby's daddy?

Love you fags and hags out there. Have a jolly holiday!
Yours Queerly xoxo

Mamma Knows Best: Things that proves your parents know you're gay

Had a very interesting conversation with my fag hag #1, Drunkzilla. (Drunkzilla and I met in college and we’ve been best of gays and hags ever since.)

I had just finished work and went down to Whisk (Empire Subang Jaya) to meet her for a much-needed catch up session (we haven’t met for five days!). While I was slaving myself with work and desperately looking for some on Grindr, Drunkzilla got plenty of roll in the hay than this gay.

Yeah, my new favourite phrase is making rhymes of “roll in the hay” with “gay” – it’s simply magical!

Back to my conversation, we were talking about the first time I met her sister, and in three minutes, she concluded I was gay, which brings Drunkie to a frequently asked question, “How come your family doesn’t know you are gay?

For those in the unknown, I am out and proud amongst all my friends except to my family and anyone who is a potential tattle tale that would lead back to my family.

With that said, I am a little closeted case in my family.

Truth to the fact is, I think they know but it somehow morphed into a “don’t ask, don’t tell” thing for me. If a stranger could tell by talking to me for three minutes, I am sure my parents of more than 20 years would have it figured out.

I think they have always known but since I never brought it up, they choose to be pseudo-oblivious.

Case Study 1:

On a family-shopping spree, Mamma has the sudden urge to get some gold dowry bangles for all her kids. She wants a set for each of us (for my sister to wear for her marriage and for our future wives) and to pass down to our future generations.  Then came the question to me, “Do I need to get you one? It doesn’t seem like you need it.”

Quelle Horreur! What does that mean? Does she mean that because I’m still single or because I’m gay. Then again, all the more reason to get it if I am gay. Me and my future “husband to be” would probably be fighting over for it. Mamma should get me two!

Case Study 2:
Mamma is always changing when I am in the room. No, not full frontal (*pukes*) but in bras and panties. Surprisingly she only does it with me and not my brother.

Dad: Oh good god! Why are you changing in front of your son!

Mum: Why not? It’s good for him to look at some lady parts. He’s been looking at too much of the man's junk.

Me: Errr…. What the fuck?

So voila! I think they know I am gay. Maybe it’s time I come out from the opened closet. Not so much hidden anymore, ain’t it?

Maybe the coming National Coming Out day would be perfect. After all, a gay needs a dramatic entrance~

Love you fags and hags out there. Have a good weekend.
Yours Queerly xoxo