Outside of Sydney's Oxford Street I have never seen such a concentration of gay men. Given Singapore's "Outrage on Decency" laws (yes, if you can believe it - there is still such a law in forward-thinking, cosmopolitan, green and groomed Singapore*), it seems rather surprising that so many openly gay men are blousing around being, well, gay. Perhaps the Marina Bay Sands offered a post-Mardi Gras special for the Easter long weekend because the infinity edge pool was literally overflowing with them.
Not that I mind, you understand; I very much don't mind at all. In fact I like gay men a lot. They are generally a very tidy, respectful, clean, well-educated, fashionable, vain (and I mean this in a good way - vanity can be a blessing, it means we are purposeful and particular in how we appear to others), quiet (excluding cousin Wilma) bunch, who often boast respectable and interesting professions. And they make fantastic shopping partners to their heterosexual female friends to boot. I utter this simply in surprise because there wasn't merely one or two; they were everywhere. Quietly, respectfully, tidily, fashionably going about their own business. I'm not sure how the two lesbians got the flyer though, or why there was only two of them, but there they were, quietly and respectfully going about their own business.
Not that I mind, you understand; I very much don't mind at all. In fact I like gay men a lot. They are generally a very tidy, respectful, clean, well-educated, fashionable, vain (and I mean this in a good way - vanity can be a blessing, it means we are purposeful and particular in how we appear to others), quiet (excluding cousin Wilma) bunch, who often boast respectable and interesting professions. And they make fantastic shopping partners to their heterosexual female friends to boot. I utter this simply in surprise because there wasn't merely one or two; they were everywhere. Quietly, respectfully, tidily, fashionably going about their own business. I'm not sure how the two lesbians got the flyer though, or why there was only two of them, but there they were, quietly and respectfully going about their own business.
The gang of wealthy post-middle age men of some sort of Persian persuasion (politically-correct description for disgusting, lewd, short, fat, round neanderthals - new money, I'd wager, by the tonnage of 24 carat yellowest of yellow ingots encircling their fat little necks) on the other hand could have learnt a thing or three hundred about respectability and the art of quietly minding their own business. Instead they made it their business to officiously and openly ogle every woman aged 16 years and up.
While attractively picking or snotting their noses into their hands, their towels, or God forbid, the pool, they would loll about in their budgie smugglers** or (kill me now), their too-tight, too-short, immitation triathlon racing short, horrid fat bellies bloating over the top, greasy black hair sticking to their faces, and for the love-of-God-put-them-away Noodle and Dumplings prominently on display with only a skin-tight piece of 10 year old flimsy Lycra to shield us from years worth of potential therapy. You might as well check yourself in now because if the vintage Lycra had chosen that moment to lose its last remnants of elasticity and give way to reveal its contents - well, it doesn't bear thinking about. And could they perhaps learn to chew with their mouths shut?
While attractively picking or snotting their noses into their hands, their towels, or God forbid, the pool, they would loll about in their budgie smugglers** or (kill me now), their too-tight, too-short, immitation triathlon racing short, horrid fat bellies bloating over the top, greasy black hair sticking to their faces, and for the love-of-God-put-them-away Noodle and Dumplings prominently on display with only a skin-tight piece of 10 year old flimsy Lycra to shield us from years worth of potential therapy. You might as well check yourself in now because if the vintage Lycra had chosen that moment to lose its last remnants of elasticity and give way to reveal its contents - well, it doesn't bear thinking about. And could they perhaps learn to chew with their mouths shut?
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| Looking up. View from my pool side lounge. Marina Bay Sands, Singapore |
In the rudest of pool-side gestures, three of them stood blocking my sun. Even the most un-pool savvy among us are aware of the unwritten rule that Thou Willst Not Block a Sunbather's Sunshine. No matter what station in life you are, no matter what your profession, caste, collection of assets, or how many Swiss bank accounts you may have (or for that matter, how many fat yellow gold ingots you have encircling your throat), this most basic of human rights is privileged and has been since Eve stole the apple. Yet there they stood. Three short, fat, lewd Persians blocking my searing afternoon sun. My very last hour of searing Singaporean afternoon sun.
As they ogled me with their black gloopy eyes, I silently levelled a pointed finger skyward towards the sun and with a flick of my right fingers, motioned for them to move.
It was a glorious moment. They moved.
More out of surprise that someone had the gall to behave so flippantly and dismissively towards them I think, than out of any remorse for accidentally blocking my very last hour of searing afternoon sun. Once they had moved it was clear they thought they shouldn't have but how could they go back without creating an international incident?
Glaring at them until, like the searing afternoon sun, my eyes burnt holes in them, they retreated. It was a fine moment, one that any self-respecting poolside sunbather will appreciate.
It was a glorious moment. They moved.
More out of surprise that someone had the gall to behave so flippantly and dismissively towards them I think, than out of any remorse for accidentally blocking my very last hour of searing afternoon sun. Once they had moved it was clear they thought they shouldn't have but how could they go back without creating an international incident?
Glaring at them until, like the searing afternoon sun, my eyes burnt holes in them, they retreated. It was a fine moment, one that any self-respecting poolside sunbather will appreciate.
* Section 377A of the Penal Code Singapore
** The Urban Dictionary defines Budgie Smugglers as an "Australian slang term for men's tight-fitting Speedo-style swimwear. The 'lump in the front' apparently resembles a budgie when it is stuffed down the front of someone's shorts".
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