I finally went to see X-Men:The Last Stand. Although it was not as good as the previous two movies, it definately had my vote by introducing the ever-hot Angel. But being the overly-analytical freak that I am, I couldn't help but wonder about the movie's underlying theme - the 'cure' for mutation. It made me ponder about a rather interesting question - what if science invented a vaccine that turned gay people straight? Throughout the movie it was eerie to see how some of the character's dialogue and reactions matched real life scenarios almost perfectly. Take for example, when Angel's father bursts in on his young son and discovers he's a mutant, his first words are "Oh no son...not you too", which is exactly something a father may say if he found out his son was gay. The vaccine was marketed as a 'cure', but as Storm puts it, you have to have a disease in order to be cured. In their eyes, they were perfectly fine, and thus did not need any 'cure'. In the same way, gay people see themselves as normal people, and not infected with some sort of warped disease. But imagine if science really did come out with a vaccine to turn gay people straight. I know for sure there would be people lining up to get it, simply because they want to blend in with the crowd. For others, such a vaccine would be almost an insult, and would surely lead to an all-out protest as seen in the movie. But think about it for a moment - with all the jumps science is making every day, is such a vaccine really that far away?

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A gigantic thank you to everyone who made my birthday so special - I forget that I have such special and wonderful people in my life. Thanks to my baby for helping to get everything into gear, and shouts to everyone who made it for my special day! Merci Carlo for your amazing pesto and hospitality, and of course your wonderful artwork! An absolutely splendid birthday with the people I care about the most...what more could I have asked for?

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Happy Birthday to me.

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I love this man.

I walked into Virgin Megastore yesterday at Emirates Mall, and what did I see on the shelf as soon as I walked in? The Season 1 box set of Queer as Folk. I gingerly picked it up and scanned the cover - 6 DVDs, 24 episodes. The salesgirl standing nearby informed me that there was just one piece left, and my grip tightened. I headed straight for the counter, and I am now the proud owner of the Season 1 QAF DVD box set.

So thank you Richard Branson, for bringing your store to Dubai.

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Gay men and cooking is something I've learnt to expect to hear from people. Many assume that gay men have great cooking skills. Frankly speaking, I don't know if this is at all true. Of course, I can cook, so I'm probably not the best person to make judgements. This topic popped into my head after I came across The Queer Chef, another great blog to add to my collection. I remember when I heard about Jamie Oliver: The Naked Chef, I got so excited. I pictured some beefy hunky guy cooking on TV wearing nothing but a tall paper cap on his head. Of course, I was rudely disappointed when I actually caught the show on TV, but I still love Jamie anyway.

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I cautiously unlock the door and tiptoe inside with my small suitcase. Although it is just going on 3am, I find him sitting in the hall with the lamp on, flipping through a magazine. He looks up and grins in the soft light as I shut the door silently and head into the hall. I know I look completely worn out, but I put on my best face and smile back. Fun night? he asks with a coy look in his eye. I nod at him and head to the bedroom to get changed. Down the corridor the door of the master bedroom in shut, but I can hear the soft sounds of sleep hanging heavily in the air. In the bedroom I unpack quietly, while he watches from the top bunk, listening to my vivid descriptions of the evening's events. I want to curl up into a ball on the floor and go to sleep, but I wanted to humor him since he decided to wait up for me. I shower and change into something more comfortable, and when I enter the bedroom again there are candles scattered around the room, and a lone lamp softly illuminates the corner. I finish narrating the rest of my day to him and he listens keenly, though I can plainly see the sleep creeping into his eyes.
I finally run out of things to tell him and I sit on the lower bunk, torn between starting up another conversation or being lost in the cotton folds of the bed. He gets up from the floor and heads to the CD player. Soft, slow music floats into the room and he coaxes me off the bed. Dance with me he whispers, and I oblige, sliding my hand into his. We dance gently and are lost in the music in a matter of minutes. I close my eyes and the room seems to relax; almost seeming to breathe a sigh of relief. He whispers Happy Birthday softly in my ear and plants a kiss on my cheek - I smile at him and our dance continues. At the end of the fifth song, we stop dancing, and stand abruptly in the centre of the room. He hugs me tightly and for a brief moment his body seems to be almost lost in mine. This is not desire, not lust, not even love. This is just being.

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Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you the fabulous Liza Minnelli!

I just hope that I look as good as her when I'm that age.

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I stand gingerly on the edge of the stool and peer carefully into the bathroom mirror. The lipstick is anywhere but on my lips, and deep dark lines around my eyes mark where I have unsuccessfully tried to apply mascara. My sister's shoes fit me perfectly though, and I stand and admire myself, wearing a bright green sleeveless top that reaches my knees, and no pants.

The crowd in the club is beginning to thin now. As another 80s song comes crackling out of the speakers, I stand in the wings and watch the routine on stage. Left Left Right Pause Right Right Right Pause Lean Left Right. The invisible commands go through my head as I watch another clockwork performance come to an end, and the dancers spread out to mingle with a crowd that consists mostly of drunk men and even camper queens. I find myself sitting back at my dressing table, the light bulbs framing my face - painted with light brown foundation and pink glossy lipstick. Beneath my robe I am wearing my favorite sea-blue gown with a slit all the way up to my hip. My mouth is dry from smoking the cheap cigarettes from the vending machine, and my martini seems to have emptied itself onto my dresser, mingling with the rows of lipstick and nail polish. I lean towards the mirror, the glare from the bulbs now clearly illuminating my hollow and tired eyes. I can see my room mate behind me in a pale yellow sequined gown, talking with a middle-aged man who is guzzling a beer and smiling coyly at him. As I watch them I suppress the urge to run over and break the bottle on his head. Get out of here you filthy prick. Go back home to your wife and the kids you never have time to see. In silent rage I watch them leave the club and I turn to face my dead reflection in the mirror. Dancing Queen pours out from the speakers, but I hang up my robe and head upstairs to fall into the arms of a stranger.

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I remember when I first read the book "The Color Purple" how I was amazed that a novel could be made up purely of honest, open letters to God. So of course, stemming from that, here is my letter to God.


Dear God,

I know I don't write to you as often as I should, but you of all people should know how horrible I am in keeping touch with people. Anyway, here I am, and I just thought I'd drop you a few lines to know how you're doing. I know that we never seem to take the time to wonder how you're doing and how we always crawl around asking for favors as if you dish them out like confetti. Well believe it or not, I'm not asking for a favor this time. This is an honest letter to see how things are checking out for you. I know you really don't need my concern, but feel free to pinch it anyway.
Things are going pretty well for me, just so you know. I have nice people in my life, I'm still kinda on the lookout for the right guy, and of course I'm back into working full time. Of course, there is room for improvement, but I'll totally leave that up to your expertise. After all, you know what's best for me, right?
That's pretty much all the excitement in my life for the moment, do feel free to spice it up a bit more if you see fit.


With Love,

Your Gay Friend.

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May 23rd, 2015

I'm so glad today's a Saturday so that I have a whole day to let last night really sink in. It's now 2pm and I'm just getting out of bed. 'Fantastic' would be an understatement to describe yesterday, but fortunately my photographic memory remembers every detail.

6:30am: Was woken up by Abbie who was exfoliating my face with her tongue. The little furball has begun to wake me up regularly so that I can give her breakfast and she can go back to her cat nap. _________ was already out of bed, which was bizarre as he doesn't usually get up until at least 7am. Got freshened up and headed to the kitchen to find _______ already seated at the table waiting for me. There was an amazing breakfast spread out and I just stood in the doorway and gaped in awe. There was French Toast, small pancakes with chocolate smiley faces(which I love), fresh fruit, a mango smoothie, chocolate crepe, and a steaming mug of tea. I just sank into my chair and totally forgot to give ________ his good-morning kiss. And by some miracle, Abbie decided her cat cereal just doesn't cut it anymore and bounded happily onto my lap to be spoon fed.
7:45am: After a fantastic breakfast, got dressed and pulled myself away from ________ to get to work, while he got dressed to make a move as well. I was smiling broadly on the subway and even when I walked into the office I couldn't help giving _________ a small smirk and she understood that I had big things to tell her during lunch.
10:37am: Work pretty much went on as usual, got the occasional greeting from a co-worker passing by and a few cards as well. ________ got me a small Tiramisu cake - I love her for that.
1:45pm: Knowing ________ all too well, he wasn't going to let me be even when I'm at office. Which is why every hour there has been a delivery of a small boquet of assorted flowers - each one different from the last and smelling amazing. I've run out of things to put them in...I even borrowed a pen holder to fill with water! ________ SMSed me so many times today that I actually felt bad deleting his old messages so that I could free up some space! Not to mention the number of e-cards as well...that man has too much free time on his hands(but that's why I love him).
6:30pm: Finally done for the day and gave a few of the boquets to my gals at work who squealed with delight. I bet they wish their husbands paid this much attention to them on their birthdays! Headed home where _________ was waiting, grinning madly. Thanked him for the flowers again, but of course the night wasn't going to get over that fast. I changed into something more dressy and we headed out for dinner to our favorite Italian place.
11pm: Got home after a fantastic dinner - we had our table on the terrace this time, so the view was simply amazing. Went for some amazing pasta and _______ stuck to his traditional pre-meal salad. Topped it all off with a lovely glass of wine and some melt-in-your-mouth creme brulle. At home we slipped into something comfy and spent the last hour of my big day snuggled up on the couch looking out from our balcony. _________ had some of his classical music on, but I was in too good a mood to voice any compaints.

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I came across a rather interesting blog today called DREADNOUGHT. It's a bit hard to pinpoint the main subject of the blog, but it discusses everything from faith to politic to being gay. Reading through some of the entries I was reminded how often I was asked about my sexuality in relation to the Catholic Church, whether or not I would be able to sneak into Heaven or plummet into Hell. Frankly speaking, I have come to a point in my life where my faith is exactly what I interpret it to be. It has long evolved from blind beliefs into something that I wholly put my trust and prayer into. I remember in one of my religious studies texts at school there was a chapter on homosexuality, and there was a paragraph that said "People should not hate homosexuals. They are different from us, but they are still God's creations". For me the Catholic Church represents a connection to God, and is an important part of my spirituality. There are often rallies by religious groups who use the Church as a tool to 'purge' the world of gay people. For them, the Church has become a political asset - something they can weild with a burning frenzy; something which they hope will give them some power over the 'immoral'. But as Jesus himself said, "You would have no power [over me] unless it had been given you from above"

Letters for Zac is another blog that I recommend you all read. Beautiful writing, adorable pictures, and warm memories. Please check it out and comment.

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