Fridae

I was telling a friend of mine about my previous column, and how I felt that straight men are just as horny as gay men are perceived to be, but with fewer avenues to get their rocks off.

"Oh definitely! I know that for a fact."

Of course I couldn't let that intriguing statement go easily. So after much probing, wheedling and sulking, he reluctantly told me his latest "hobby". Cock-baiting.

Well, that's what I called it. It's like cockteasing, but slightly different. He explained to me, as I listened in horrified fascination. What he does is, he baits guys by getting them hard, without any actual or visible act of seduction. He goes to crowded places - the MRT, buses, elevators - anywhere you get packed in tighter than old ladies on a church bus.

Then he'll slowly ease himself against some guy, usually straight and sort of slide his ass across the guy's crotch. He'll then keep it there, rubbing the other guy's whang till it gets hard. It almost never fails, he says - no matter how straight looking the guy is, apparently most of them won't try to move or avoid it. Some even really get into it, pushing their hard-ons right back at him.

All this time, they don't look at each other or even acknowledge anything happening. When the guy's stop or floor comes along, he just leaves without a word, and my friend grins evilly to himself before looking for another target. Filipino men are known for being horny asses, regardless of orientation. Especially, sadly, among the lower income classes - the ones who know that aside from a girlfriend, marriage and despicable acts of rape, they aren't going to get any.

Cheap, ain't it? Tawdry, really. But it's a kick for him. And given my own recent experience on the train, I wasn't one to judge.

But it got me thinking. So I asked around a few other friends, about their guilty little pleasures, the things they do but won't admit to anyone except under extreme duress or multiple Cuervo.

One friend loiters around construction sites to ogle sweaty workers. One plays peeping tom at public toilet urinals (though that carries obvious risks). One offers free massage to gym buddies. One frequents strip bars. One gardens with a sunhat, while another has put together the largest collection of pearl jewellery I have seen. And so forth.

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What struck me was not that so many of my friends were odd, but the fact that everyone has some small pleasure that keeps them sane. I've always maintained that the biggest challenge for gay men is to fend off the dreaded spectre of terminal ennui. Nothing is perhaps more lethal to us than fighting off the gradual encroach of thumb-twiddling urges. Maybe it's also why more and more gay men gravitate from blessed singlehood to contented attached-hood as we grow older.

We all need our cheap thrills, I guess. The little things that make life bearable. Unlike straights who can happily look forward to a future spent raising squalling kids, education plans, and wedding banquets, we tend to end up with not enough things to spend our time and energies on. So we go to the parties, and the clubs, and the saunas, and the malls, and the cafes. Most of us go to either of two extremes. Either we become mad workaholics, or we approach life like one big Austin Powers movie.

Not that cheap games are the only thing to add some lustre to gay mens' lives. They're just stopgap measures to keep one going till one has found one's purpose. Stroking a stranger's crotch with one's ass for kicks may not be much as a raison d'�tre, but it certainly makes life rather� different.

Maybe that's why I have a great deal of respect for those people who've learned to channel their energies into more relevant pursuits - social work, charity events, etc. I'm not saying that it's for everyone - my own cheap thrills come from spending hours playing computer games. But just that I respect people who've found something worthwhile to keep them occupied.

Some of you are probably thinking, "God, he makes us all seem like cheap sluts who'll do anything for sex". On the contrary. I'm just pointing out that, as individuals, we all develop our own means of coping. And we shouldn't be ashamed of our quirks, as anyone who presumes to judge probably has his own less savoury little games. And before we can move to judge how tawdry or tacky someone else's life is, we should re-evaluate our own.

Thank goodness for small mercies.

It's a common phrase right. More often than not, it's meant to be facetious. But taken in another context, it can mean that we should be thankful for the small things we have to keep us going.

Sometimes it's the small things that matter, after all.

Size queens take heed.