Fridae

Sunday brunch with my posse. It was business as usual except for the fact that our long lost friend, Lenny had decided to grace the occasion with his presence. We have already written him off months ago after we heard one too many lame excuses for his absence, so you can imagine my surprise when he called asking if we are meeting up as usual. As we await his arrival, we mentally sharpen our collective interrogation skills to unveil the reason for his disappearance.

When he finally showed up (fashionably late as usual), he whipped out his manicure set and started to do his nails in a vain attempt to distract us. However, his sheepish nonchalance was no match for our collective poniard-like questioning. He finally caved-in and fess up the real reason behind his hiatus.

It turns out he is in a serious relationship. It was serious not only in the literal sense but also in the sense that his other half is seriously closeted.

"Don't laugh, but nobody but me knows that he's gay and he would like very much to keep it that way," said Lenny.

"And he asked me in a really nice and civilised way that I cut off all interactions with anybody who is outwardly gay and not to visit any gay related places. In case word gets around that he is. Guilty by association or whatever you might call that."

It is at times like this when one has to decide whether to offer a friend like him a sympathetic ear or to grab the nearest hard object to smack some sense into the ninny nelly. We chose to serve up the latter before the former.

"Hear me out," he lamented while buffing his nails diligently, "I'm living in pain. I'm like a secret lover. We cannot be seen together in public places, we only go out at night, he talks in hush tones over the phone, and he can't even save my number or any of my sms-es in his mobile phone! It's like I'm a total non-entity in his life as far as other people are concerned. It's driving me nuts!"

It is not hard to empathise with Lenny. Truth be told, living and dating in not so gay-friendly Singapore, most (if not all) of us are at one point or another dating someone who is to some extent closeted. Save for a brave few, we are not totally out of the closet. All of us have had the experience of fading in the background or pretending to develop a sudden interest in flooring surfaces when our partners bump into straight friends/ relatives/ colleagues/ etc. However, Lenny's buddy brought it to the highest level.

While most of us had to endure or get used to the fact that we cannot display any form of affection to our partners publicly as we please, we take comfort in the thought that we can be ourselves in the company of others like us. Private parties and gay clubs provide much needed sanctuaries from the judging eyes of the general public but when one is totally closeted or dating someone who is, this is a luxury he can ill afford.

Of course, how one chooses to live his life is his own business. If he chooses to lead a mutually exclusive double life, we have to respect his choice. But when his partner is coerced into altering up his lifestyle to suit his wishes, we have to question where the respect is in such a relationship.

We posed this question to Lenny and he revealed:" I never think about such things. At first, I thought it was fun. I pretended I was a femme fatale who is dating the Harrison Ford character in The Fugitive. That's why I played along. I didn't expect it to turn serious. I also didn't expect that his wanting to stay closeted would be such an issue."

As if finding a compatible partner is not hard enough, we have to throw another variable into our consideration. Top/bottom, butch/femme, cut/uncut, smoking/non-smoking, +/-, S/M, and our topic of the day: out/closeted. The list goes on. If any of the variables prove to be incompatible to your ideal, take our word for it, proceed with caution. In a perfect world, compromises will be made by both parties until they reach a common ground where one can be as comfortable as the other. In real life however, it gets a little bit trickier. Compromises often give way to sacrifices which may be not as comfy as we like it to be.

So why does poor deluded Lenny choose to take such a perilous route for love nonetheless? "He's the best sex of my life!" he proclaimed, "and quite possibly the love of my life. Which reminds me, I gotta run. I'm supposed to be at his place like five minutes ago. I told him I gotta get my nails done first, and look how fabulous they are! Great seeing you guys again. Thanks for hearing me out, feeling much better already. See ya!"

As we watch Lenny stuff his manicure set in his back pack as he runs off to hail a cab, we wonder when we'll ever see him again. I have a hunch it may be sooner than we thought.