The relationship between the boyfriend and I seem to thrive on ordeals. It's ironic, but ever since I've entered the boyfriend's life, I seem to have turned it upside down. His cat went missing just two weeks after we went steady. His grandmother got admitted into the hospital nearly two months after. And before I could get to know her better, she passed away a month later. I have to admit that it's the stuff you only see in those cheesy Korean dramas, but I'm glad that it adds some meaning to this relationship.

Still, I would like to look at all this from a 'trial by fire' point of view. After all, you know what they say: What doesn't kill you just makes you stronger. And I think it did strengthen this strange resolve in sticking with the boyfriend through the thick and the thin. I've never invested so much belief in anyone before that this ideology of confidence in someone surviving through these ordeals is almost foreign to me. I guess I'm still learning how to deal with all these adult issues that come hand-in-hand with growing up.

However, just when I thought the stormy seas have finally settled, fate has dealt me a tricky hand of cards once again. And frankly speaking, I don't know if I can survive this next ordeal.

All this began after the grandmother's death. For some reason, the love between the boyfriend and me has somewhat dissipated. Gone are the quaint little gifts from the exotic locales that his job takes him to. Similarly, the public displays of affection are a rarity these days. Text messages with random declarations of love can be listed together with the endangered species. The days of mushy text messages seeping with dirty puns are just not happening anymore. Even 'physical activities' that bring to mind words like 'seeping' and 'dirty' are a thing of the past.

Dry spells aside, I think this is what everybody means when they say that 'The Honeymoon Period Is Over'. Which is what got me really worried. Is this all there is to a gay relationship, meeting up once a week over dinner and movies, just to update each other with the on-goings in our lives? The occasional gathering with his clueless acquaintances, with me assuming the all-too-familiar role of 'the best friend'? From the looks of it, the boyfriend is fast downgrading from life partner, to simply a good friend whom I meet on a regular basis.

So, like the concerned partner that I'm supposed to be, I sat the both of us down one evening after dinner to have 'the talk'. I figured that this whole thing was going to be tricky, which is why I intentionally picked a smoking area outside Raffles City which was somewhat secluded. I thought that with the cigarette by my side, I could perhaps come up with something tactful to broach this whole topic with. Besides, I've never had much prior experience initiating 'the talk', preferring to just let sex resolve most problems.

We had some idle chitchat about our working lives and just carried on updating each other on the course of our lives. And just when I couldn't take it anymore, I blurted it out:

"You seem very distant lately. Is there something wrong? Because if you're not interested in this relationship I think we should move on and not waste any of each other's time."

There. I said it. A bit abrupt and rather brash, but I guess it got the important message across to the boyfriend. I was expecting some sort of defensive reply from the boyfriend, citing work commitments and the like. But all I got were several minutes of awkward silence and the lighter trying to ignite against the strong tropical wind. And that was when the boyfriend stated sobbing. I was freaking out. Crying people? Not my forte. What more then, a crying person in the public setting?

I panicked. Many things raced through my mind: Do I touch the boyfriend to comfort him? Do I tell him in the most tactful way that it's a public place and he needs to stop crying? Why should I be embarrassed when someone is expressing grief in a public place? What should I say that would help the situation? Do I offer a tissue or my handkerchief? On hindsight, I didn't know if this was a good move, but I offered my somewhat snot-stained handkerchief. I had the flu earlier that day, you see.

In between sobs, the boyfriend started explaining how the passing of the grandmother affected him greatly. 'Tis true that death has this tendency to set one's priorities straight. And in the gay context, I mean literally STRAIGHT. Suddenly, the worldly pursuits and carnal delights seem so minute compared to the after life. For the boyfriend, it was kind of like a wake-up call, to see the real world and its realities, sans the fashionable rose-tinted glasses. To put it clearly, the boyfriend was experiencing a conflict between Islam and his being gay.

Deep down inside, I knew I could trump loss, break-ups or even death anytime. But to battle against a greater force that has been tried and tested over a gazillion years, the boyfriend's conflict is something that's beyond my capabilities. Truth be told, I have absolutely no idea how to go about to resolve an issue like that, falling short of a compromise between both parties. I suggested that to him. But he was rather adamant about the fact that there was no such thing as compromise when it came to religion. And I know I'm in no position to preach about finding the middle ground in one's faith. I gave up mine so that I could be the happy homosexual that I am today.

The evening ended abruptly with the boyfriend excusing himself to go home, albeit with somewhat puffy eyes. It's time like these that I wish I could do something more than just smoke a cigarette or offer an unhygienic handkerchief for the crying loved one. How many times have we wished that we weren't so powerless when it comes to problems like these?

I wish I had superhuman powers like them ordinary people on Heroes. I wish I had the ability to read the boyfriend's mind so that I could find the rights words to say. Or the ability to fly so that I could accompany the boyfriend on his air stewarding job. Or even better, the ability to bend the space-time continuum so that I can prevent the grandmother from dying that early. Alas, I'm just the ordinary gay person who contributes a column to a gay web portal.

So here I am, writing away for Fridae, hoping to get some advice and perhaps, solutions to the boyfriend's moral dilemma. I guess at the end of the day, it's still the effort that counts.

Jonathan Zhang, 22, has been gay for eight years and a nurse for four. You can read the combined average of the above in his blog at www.spankthemalenurse.blogspot.com. Ah Men! will be updated every other Sunday.