Words: James Gannaban

On the 12th of April, my dear friend, Ernesto Corpus, sent a private message on Facebook to a small group of LGBT activists. Read on.

***
Scene yesterday at Cheung Sha Beach, Lantau Island. Time – around 1.00pm. Cheung Sha Beach has long had a reputation for au naturel sunbathing, especially amongst gay men.

Yesterday, while topping up my tan, a 30-something woman rowed in on a kayak and started to berate the sunbathers, saying how ‘disgusting’ we were, that there was ‘nothing worth seeing,’ and if we didn’t cover up, she’d call the police immediately.

She rowed back and forth along the shoreline, making sure that the nine guys including myself did as she ordered. Seeing as I was the last to reluctantly follow she rowed into shore and confronted me directly, saying that what we were doing was ‘illegal.’ I argued back that she should also scold the dog owners who walk their dogs ‘illegally’ on the same beach.

She said that was ‘none of her business’ and she hated gays who were shameless and disgusting.
Thing is, I was the only one of all the guys (7 Chinese locals and 1 other gweilo) who dared answer her back. Was I wrong? Why didn’t nobody else stand up to her?

***
The story made me wonder what I’d do in the same situation.

The fact that the woman attacked from a kayak – an armada of one – made her too comical. I wouldn’t have answered her back, either, because I would have been too busy taking a video of her on my iPhone. She has all the makings of an instant internet celebrity, like the cantankerous Bus Uncle. I could see the blurb, now: “Life is a beach. Drink beer, not hate-o-rade.”

Clearly, the woman is entitled to express an opinion (although the manner in which she did it verged on harassment). Contrary to popular belief, Cheung Sha Beach is neither officially gay nor nudist. Sure, it has had that reputation for years and has even earned cultish status amongst gay tourists. It could even be argued that gayness (not illegal) and nudity (indeed, illegal) have become part of the beach’s vernacular. The area is hardly ever policed; the cops have better things to do. And so it falls on each visitor’s individual sense of responsibility to be discreet and respectful toward other beach bums.

Sex and/or orgies on the beach in broad daylight – and they have been known to happen – definitely count as disrespectful behaviour. Get a room. Better yet, jump into The Cockpit.

James Gannaban is Asia’s Most Hyperactive Gay Boy™. http://jamesgannaban.blogspot.com

Words: James Gannaban

“DRUNKWALK,” DS publisher Joe Lam replied, after I had asked him to join me for Artwalk. It was my first time to do it, and I had high hopes. A walk through some of the city’s best galleries? With complimentary food from some of the best restaurants?? Plus unlimited alcohol?!? For charity?!?! Sign me up!

“No, thanks,” Joe declined. “I’m gonna do a yoga class, instead.”

“Shit,” I thought. “What does it mean when the publisher of Hong Kong’s only LGBT magazine decides to be healthy whilst C Y Leung – next Hong Kong’s Chief Executive, natch – decides to join the addled masses at Drunkwalk?”

I didn’t see Mr. Leung touch any of the alcohol, to be fair; I just saw him take photos with people. Lots of photos, lots of people. Nice. Being in his presence made me feel somewhat powerful, too, by osmosis.

I wanted to ask, “Mr. Leung, what is your policy on diversity and inclusion in the workplace?” But before a word left my mouth, C Y Leung was whisked away by his handlers, leaving scores of people still queued up to have a photo-op with him disappointed. Me, I turned my attention, instead, towards the food counter. If you can’t beat ‘em, eat ‘em.

The food was mostly flat breads – pita, tortilla, naan – and dips of varying shades of gray. I didn’t care. I was hungry as hell after all that Artwalking. I could have been served dust and still ate like it was the yummiest, Michelin-starred amuse bouche.

My favourite gallery was Schoeni on Old Bailey Street. There were more sculptures there than in any of the other galleries along the Wyndham-Hollywood-SoHo area. I like sculptures because I’m not an art connoisseur. At least I can walk around sculptures. It gives me something to do. Standing in front of a painting and not getting it just makes me feel stupid – more so when I’m expected to say something intelligent around people who obviously know much more about art. I mean, am I blind? Clueless? Uncivilized? Or all of the above?

So the art in Schoeni on Old Bailey appealed to me so much more. There was a humorous sculpture of a slinky dog made from oxidized scrap metal, there was a carnival wheel made from a bicycle tire, there was a painting of a gloriously twinky angel beside a painting of deer with a rainbow screen, etc. I easily appreciated how the exhibit was curated with artwork featuring found objects. It was all so melancholic, but also joyful and celebratory. I decided, then, that I like art that looks familiar but is able to shape familiarity into bold visions of the future.

Plus, the food at Schoeni was from SoHo Spice, and I swear, it was the best in all of Artwalk. Mad props, honestly!

It made me laugh when I saw two ambulances parked along Hollywood Road. “Just like Halloween,” I thought, “when the only thing heavier than pedestrian traffic is collective alcohol intake.” You either got drunk on art or on booze – whichever came first.

Much kudos to the team behind Artwalk for a job well done. Initially, I was scared of sinking from my sheer ignorance amidst such weighty displays of human artistic achievement. Highfalutin! I was comforted eventually that not all art is snobbish. Some art, in fact, can be so approachable and effervescent as to lift one’s spirits up to the heavens – to The Cockpit. Maybe there’s hope for me yet!

﹣ James Gannaban is Asia’s Most Hyperactive Gay Boy™.

Find him on http://jamesgannaban.blogspot.com

Words: James Gannaban

I got deported, which was absurd. I’ve certainly heard of many people being deported from the US or Europe or wherever. But a Filipino getting deported from Hong Kong? Last I checked, Filipinos ran this place. If it weren’t for my Filipino sisters who work as domestic helpers, Hong Kong’s economy would grind to a halt. And if it weren’t for me, how the hell would Mr Gay HK Jimmy Wong manage to get himself to Winter Pride in Whistler, Canada??

OK, I obviously had a bloated sense of importance because Jimmy did get to Canada. And by and large, I had nothing to do with it. It was all thanks to my dear friend and business partner, AD; Mr Gay World VP and Winter Pride organizer Dean Nelson; and Air Canada GM Joe Ng. I first met Joe at the monthly Fruits in Suits (FinS) networking event and I couldn’t be more thankful.

“All from Air Canada,” Eric Herrera, who runs FinS, gestured grandly at the mountain of lucky draw items. There were cufflinks, a rucksack, an expensive bottle of wine in a handsome wooden box, plus many more. I can’t identify any other individual who generously supports the community as regularly as Joe Ng does. He is a bona fide godfather of the LGBT community. Joe is the reason I always want to fly Air Canada. Jimmy was able to go to Winter Pride and represent Hong Kong because of Air Canada. Big thanks to Joe Ng and Air Canada!

Jimmy got back from Canada on Valentine’s Day. And funny how life works out, because also on Valentine’s Day, I started a new job back in Hong Kong after my shocking deportation and extended period of exile. So I immediately organized to meet up with Jimmy to hear all about the juicy details of his trip. We spent an entire afternoon at Volume HEAT going through his photos and videos from Winter Pride. There were so many hot guys sizzling all over the wintry Whistler landscape like it was nobody’s business. Shit, even during winter, gay boys can’t fucking keep their clothes on!

“I took a dip into a hot tub with the boys,” Jimmy shared, “and I met a porn star from Randy Blue.”

I died with envy.

Jimmy gets to meet a parade of beefcakes and I, on the other hand, get to meet with a parade of Immigration officers? How is this fair?? Jimmy was literally surrounded by an eye-watering number of hot guys. He even got to judge a pre-pageant “Amazing Race”-style portion of Mr Gay Canada.

“When was same sex marriage legalized in Canada?” Jimmy asked each candidate before he handed them their next clue.

“Uhm, ‘69?” one of the boys replied. Ha, ha. The answer is ‘05.

Thomas Egli, who has charisma coming out of his ears, was eventually proclaimed Mr Gay Canada.

- James Gannaban is Asia’s Most Hyperactive Gay Boy™. Find him on http://jamesgannaban.blogspot.com

Words: James Gannaban

“Fourteen days,” I requested.

“You are only allowed a maximum of 14 days per month. You’ve used that all up,” she pointed out inconsequentially.

“Seven days,” I bargained.

“You have already been given an SCL stamp,” she said

“What does SCL mean?”

“Short Conditional Landing.”

“What’s that?”

“It’s like a departure order.”

I felt the blood drain off my face. After six and a half years in Hong Kong, it all comes down to this – a work visa that wasn’t renewed in time for me to be able to stay or go as I choose to. Visa runs were clearly not an option, as I had found out a few days prior, when I was told upon re-entering from Macau that I wasn’t any more allowed to “just hang out in Hong Kong with my friends while I try to figure out what to do next.”

I should have relished the experience of having been apprehended as though I were a dangerous person. I mean – me?? It was pimp. Border guards, the interrogation room, the works. You can’t buy an experience like that. Why the fuck would you want to?? The only consolation was, the border guard assigned to interrogate me was tall, dark and handsome. Downside was, he’s young and eager – I’d guess about 25 – and had an ironclad belief in the rulebook as though it were the Holy Bible.

“How much money do you have?”

“A lot,” I snapped. I then realized that it probably wasn’t wise to antagonize a border guard – duh! – who alone had the power to either let me through or not.

“I have money,” I said a little more meekly. “It’s mostly in the bank but I do have some on me now.”

“Show me,” he challenged.

Lucky I had about HKD5,000 in bills stuffed in my wallet. So I showed him.

“Five days, then,” he said, making a note on a piece of paper.

But five days weren’t nearly enough, especially with the upcoming Christmas and New Year holidays. That’s why I had to make a pilgrimage to the Immigration Tower in Wan Chai to beg for a further extension so Chris and I could be together during the festive season.

“Five more days,” I pleaded the female officer who had been assigned to my case. “Please. I really just… want to be here for Christmas and New Year…” It was all I could say or do to stop myself from openly weeping at her feet.

For a hot second, I thought I saw cracks in her stony countenance.

“Three days,” she acquiesced gruffly, “so you and your girlfriend can have a Merry Christmas.” She smiled thinly. “Okay?”

Girlfriend?! I must have looked really butch with my desperate appeals for a visa extension.

“Okay…” I whispered with a measure of relief. I do get to spend Christmas with Chris but not New Year’s Day. “Thank you,” I said, smiling weakly back at her.

“Counter 28, other side,” she directed. “Just pay the visa extension fee.”

I was a mixed bag of emotions. All things considering, I think I was treated with kindness. At the border a few days ago, some mainland Chinese guys were full-on handcuffed during interrogation, same time as myself. They had full security watching over them. Meanwhile, I was pretty much left alone, pretending to nonchalantly read my trashy thriller paperback whilst my interrogating officer consulted with his peers on how to best treat my case. I’ve been a long-term resident, I’ve always paid my taxes on time, and they could plainly see on my passport that I do travel a lot. I knew I didn’t have any reason to be scared, but in that situation – at that very moment – I was practically nowhere.

And so that’s how it came to be that I am in The Cockpit. In many cockpits, in fact, as I lose myself all around Asia in order to (hopefully) find myself and, perhaps, find some sense of purpose and balance and renewed vigour for life, somewhere along the way.

How about that for a Chinese New Year’s resolution?

James Gannaban is Asia’s Most Hyperactive Gay Boy™. Find him on http://jamesgannaban.blogspot.com/

Words: James Gannaban

I almost always fail at my New Year’s resolutions. I’ve aimed at everything imaginable to improve myself, including:

- Spend less
- Travel more
- Eat less hot pot
- Drink more sensibly
- Exercise more regularly
- Call my mum more often
- Etc.

I set my goals too high – that’s the problem. Like, how am I meant to “exercise more regularly” when the most “exercise” I ever do is lift my cocktail glass 15 reps, 20 sets every weekend? Ordinarily, that’s something that any human being should be proud of. Such extraordinary stamina! Such courage and determination! Except I’ve got nothing to show for it than a thinner bank balance and a fatter belly. Such stupidity!

So this year, I’ve decided to commit to just one New Year’s resolution:

Become A Hotter Version of Myself by Summer.

OK, who hasn’t made variations on that same resolution year after year? I always plan on being swimsuit-ready in time for Floatilla. Except my lack of self-discipline gets in the way. What annoys me, too, is my ability to justify my shocking figure. Like, I could take on the persona of a prissy princess:

“I’m sooo not a circuit-party-muscle-boy. My largest muscle is my brain. My brain cells do more than just track bench reps, ew.”

That would be fine – except honestly, I’d rather be Catherine, Duchess of Cambridge than Beatrice, Princess of York.

Or I could take on the persona of a “Regular Joe.” To conceal my insecurity over my underwhelming regular-ness, I’d be required to heap overly generous compliments on gay boys with ridiculously perfect bodies. I’d then proceed to turn green and barf.

The third approach is my most frequent go-to. I just drink myself silly and promptly pass out so that the endless parade of perfect bodies need not taunt me. It works. Everyone leaves me alone. Next thing I know, we’re back on dry land and everyone’s wearing clothes again. Hooray!

But this year, I’m bound to make good on my resolution. I’ve stumbled across a diet that allows me to eat whatever I want, as much as I want. I just need to swallow two spoonfuls of sauerkraut before bedtime. Sauerkraut is as appetizing as the rancid jockstraps of an entire football team. You either love it or hate it. Regardless, it flushes everything away in the morning.

I’ve lost 2.5 kilos in a month on my sauerkraut diet, despite the barrage of holiday pig-outs. That’s a lot, especially for someone whose entire body is a stubborn mass of adipose tissue.

I knew I was making progress when, after a particularly trashy night of partying, I collapsed into a cha chaan teng to shamelessly stuff my face with braised beef tendon noodles. I felt eyes boring into the back of my head, so I turned to look.

“I’d fuck you,” he said.

Tall. Broad shoulders hunched over the low table. Greasy mop of ash blonde hair. Insanely toned forearms. Large, droopy eyes. His name is Adam, he said. 29 years old, drummer, Brit.

“All the other girls…” he continued, but I was hardly listening! My New Year’s resolution must be in effect, already! I have become a hotter version of myself, and we’re still a long way to go before summer! My self-esteem shot up into the stratosphere!

“All the other girls… they’re expensive!”

Ah.

It wasn’t even the mention of money, or the fact that I wasn’t charging Adam any (yet), that got me off The Cockpit mere seconds after I had happily jumped into it.

It wasn’t really me you wanted, Adam.

It was my “twin sister,” Fabiola.
Happy New Year!

- James Gannaban is Asia’s Most Hyperactive Gay Boy™. Find him on http://jamesgannaban.blogspot.com/

Words: James Gannaban
2AM

My dear friend Joseph Chan, half of the partnership behind Volume Concepts, is keeping me from leaving his tapas bar. We’re brainstorming fun promotion ideas for Volume’s VIPs.

Joseph: Let Chris sleep and hug his pillow. I rarely get to speak with you alone!

(A guy walks in, 28-30 years old, slender, about 6 feet, gweilo, reasonably attractive.)

Guy: Hey! Can I get a drink?

Joseph: Darling, we’re closed. Let me call Volume Beat to check if they’re still open.

Guy: Where’s that?

Me: 62 Jervois Street.

Guy: Yeah, where’s that?

(Joseph hands Guy a Volume BEAT shop card. Guy looks at map at the back of the card.)

Guy: This map is shit.

(I grab a copy of Dim Sum Magazine with Mr Gay HK 2011 Jimmy Wong on the cover.)

Me: The address is on this magazine. Keep it. We’re at the corner of Aberdeen and Hollywood. Keep walking down Aberdeen ‘til you hit Queen’s. Look out for the stoplight at the junction. Jervois is on the way down. Find number 62. Left side of the street. That’s it.

Joseph: Just called up Beat; they’re now closed, too.

Guy: I had a fucking great day at work. I wanna party. Where can I go?

Me: Home. It’s 2AM on a Tuesday night. Everywhere’s closed.

Joseph: I’ll make you one drink. What do you want?

Guy: Black Sambuca. Who’s that guy (points at Jimmy’s photo).

Me: Jimmy Wong. Mr Gay HK.

Guy: I can do that, too. I can be in that magazine. I look better than that guy. I’ve got an 8-pack. Wanna see?

Joseph: (shrugs) James, you wanna see?

Me: I only wanna see if I can take a photo for my blog. Otherwise, what’s the point.

Joseph: Can he take a photo for his blog?

Guy: Yeah. But we gotta do it in the loo. Where’s the loo?

Joseph: Just down that corner.

(Guy is twatted and can hardly stand up. Joseph helps him up and walks him to the loo. After a few minutes…)

Joseph: You always ask guys to touch your bum while you pee?

Guy: No. I’m not gay.

Joseph: Bisexual?

Guy: Bi-curious. Sorry, haven’t got my wits about me. You got some coke? I’m being very direct (laughs).

Me: No, I don’t. It’s a Tuesday night. Go home.

Guy: I wanna have a wank.

Me: When?

Guy: Now. Let’s all go to the loo now, get naked, wank.

Joseph: James, wanna go with him?

Me: No. What’s the point if I can’t take a photo for my blog?

Joseph: Will you let James take a photo of you for his blog?

Guy: If we go to the loo.

Me: No. Here. Do it here. I don’t feel like moving.

Guy: I gotta go pee…

(Guy gets up, but barely. He stumbles towards the loo. Joseph and I stay in place.)

Joseph: You have to write about this.

Me: Only if I get a photo to go with my story.

It’s Christmas. Everyone’s allowed to have a bit of fun. And ‘tis the season of giving. So Joseph and I decided to let the guy go with a shred of dignity intact. He shall remain nameless, although he did leave us his business card… He was flying in The Cockpit. And we were right along with him for the ride.

Happy Holidays, dear friends!

James Gannaban is Asia’s Most Hyperactive Gay Boy™. Find him on http://jamesgannaban.blogspot.com/

Words: James Gannaban,, Photo: Frankie To
“Taking an iPhone from your mobile service provider is worse than having a crappy marriage. Your provider offers you a new iPhone – if you sign a two-year extension on your contract. If you lose your phone, you need to extend your contract two more years.” – Joe Lam

I’ve lost my iPhone twice this year. Of course I didn’t know until too late that there are such things as “Spy Apps” which enable you to track your iPhone; or that it’s actually quite easy and cheap to purchase iPhone insurance from any number of banks.

OK, what I really wanna say is: Apple should consider Mr Gay HK as the perfect platform from which to communicate with the legions of Apple fans within the LGBT community! MGHK is current and media savvy. The LGBT community is known to be early adapters of technology. We’re always ahead of the curve. Plus, practically every gay man is hopelessly addicted to Grindr. And finally, with the number of iPhones I stand to lose throughout my lifetime, I would have purchased the equivalent of a multi-year Apple sponsorship for MGHK, anyway!

Alas, internet hysteria alone over Apple products trumps any other sort of marketing campaign – so what value could a small LGBT unit like MGHK have for Apple? That’s for MGHK to propose and for Apple to consider!

What I do know for certain, though, is the magnanimity of two brands that have been with us since 2009, when I started MGHK with my dear friend, Noel Furrer. Thanks in large part to Dim Sum Magazine for the valuable ad space and for the winner’s prize contribution. Plus – Hello! – how many more The Cockpit’s am I allowed to write about MGHK, only DS publisher Joe Lam can tell! Much love to DS for having been an indispensable partner towards creating the MGHK image in the critical first three years.

Speaking of image, Paul Gerrard has been making the candidates and winners look their best for three years, now. We could not have asked for better people than Robin (hair) and Lizzie (make-up) to look after us; they are peerless professionals who are simply at the top of their game.

This year, ace photographer Frankie To offered us his services. What we got was more than sjust a photographer. Frankie and his husband, Don, were like big brothers to the candidates – not to mention the perfect role models for gay marriage! I almost died when one of my boys accidentally stained Frankie’s brand-new white trainers with dark cream foundation. When I sheepishly asked Frankie to please send me the cleaning bill, he told me not to worry.

Marisa Zeman of Nude is Rude, Yos Yunos of Daigo and Hong of Gentleman’s Agreement have all shared their creative input towards creating a cohesive and unique look for each of the MGHK finalists this year. Many thanks.

A new app for the LGBT community will soon be launched by Pink Dollar Technologies. Pink Dollar Tech’s Paul Ramscar has sponsored entertainment for the MGHK 2011 Grand Finale, and the dancers were fabulous. Three costume changes throughout the show!

You’re only as good as the impression you make. And so last but not least, big thanks to our venue partners, Volume H.E.A.T. and Bisous.

It takes a lot of courage, imagination and foresight to invest into the local LGBT community. The “Pink Dollar” is largely still a new idea in Hong Kong. In certain parts of Europe and the Americas, the infamously “disposable” nature of the Pink Dollar now talks even louder than the deflating greenback.

We will get there, too. It’s a short matter of time. There’s a palpable increase of support from more boutique brands and independent business owners year on year, and that’s so awesome.

To our brave partners who gamely jumped aboard The Cockpit of the Mr Gay Hong Kong aircraft, a heartfelt “Thank you” for flying with us. Onward!start drinking earlier in the day!

James Gannaban is Asia’s Most Hyperactive Gay Boy™.
Find him on http://jamesgannaban.blogspot.com

Words: James Gannaban

I’d laugh when watching Imelda Marcos wax philosophical about the infinite virtue of beauty – why she demanded it, surrounded herself with it, even became addicted to it. She seemed completely deranged. Poverty was shocking. Filipinos were practically expiring like bad group buying vouchers – way before group buying became all the rage, natch – whilst Imelda and her husband (the late dictator Ferdinand Marcos) allegedly looted the country’s coffers. Stealing is so ghetto, honestly! But some of the Marcos’ supporters argued that at least the money stolen went towards Imelda’s beautification projects – more than what could be said about less suave politicos who simply stole, full stop. One such project of Imelda’s was the ill-fated Manila Film Centre which is believed to be haunted by the souls of 169 workers who were buried under quick-drying wet cement during its construction. I’ve seen the Film Centre; it’s decrepit, honestly! Imelda should have just bought more shoes, which, if the Philippine Government put up for auction today, might be worth more than the unstable piece of reclaimed land that the Film Centre stands on. Now, wouldn’t that be a real triumph of fund raising?

But Imelda is yesterday’s news, if we’re gonna talk about beauty. Mr Gay Hong Kong is today’s. I always get asked why I put it up, what’s the purpose, what becomes of the winner, blah blah blah.

I could talk endlessly about my genuine belief in “world peace,” because world peace rocks, honestly. There are few ideals more lofty than that. For starters, I would love it if the fat loser who kept shouting “FAGGOTS!” at us from the next junk boat last Sunday instantly died from a giant hemorrhoid. Wouldn’t just that be a perfect illustration of the supremacy of irony? But that would be an ugly urge on my part, hence I refuse to give in to it. I’ll simply think about him witheringly from my moral high ground and feel infinite pity for the loser he is.

Thing is, who likes getting stuck with anything ugly? Definitely not me. I am dismayed at the ugly belly I’m developing as the result of my unbridled char siu consumption, so I’m choosing to focus on nicer things about me, instead, like… oh, I don’t know! My eyes?

Beauty gets you through the door. People are attracted to beautiful people. Imelda figured that out early on in life. I figured that out early, too. I was 17 and fat – 200 pounds, a 40-inch waistline, a face riddled with oily acne. Worst of all, I had just finally admitted to myself that I’m homosexual – and I couldn’t get any dates as long as I was ugly! So I started rehabbing myself, one physical flaw at a time. The skin got fixed, then the teeth, then the flabs. Self-esteem developed as a natural function of looking and feeling healthier, and that’s how I’ve become the confident, hyperactive and entitled gay man I am today.

And I like seeing that in my boys, the candidates of Mr Gay Hong Kong 2011. Edmund, Bridge, Jimmy and Ricky. They are the beautiful, courageous men who have had the courage to sign up for what possibly might be the worst platform, if you’re a gay man who is looking to not be criticized for your looks – of all things!

Words: James Gannaban

Singapore rocks, honestly.

OK, so same-sex sexual activity is illegal between men only – why, I don’t know. In 2007, oral and anal sex were legalised for heterosexuals and female homosexuals. But homosexual men who engage in shocking behaviour, such as blowjobs or bumfun, may be punished with imprisonment for a term which may extend to 2 years, for “acts of gross indecency.” I mean, who in the world is silly enough to complain to the cops that they got their cock sucked? In my books, you say “Thank you,” instead, for such a lovely gesture. It’s only good manners.

Thank goodness the law doesn’t generally seem to be enforced. I mean – duh! The city is crawling with homosexuals! And I highly doubt that Singapore’s over-exercised gay male populace, all attired in what seems to be the de rigueur Singapore gay uniform of super-tight Topman tee and super-short shorts in a bold colour (electric blue, fire-engine red, or plain pink), are celibate! I mean, these boys obviously work on their muscles just as hard as they do on their careers. And why not. We live in a Grindr world, after all. There’s the stock market, and then there’s the meat market. And Grindr has become the most valid tool through which we measure our worth in the meat market. No abs, no glory.

I was lucky enough to have been introduced to gay Singapore’s Drag Queen Bee, Bernice. Bernice is as big a celebrity as one gets in the local LGBT scene. As long as we were with Bernice, we were chauffeured in Mercedes-Benz limousines, we zoomed to the front of every queue, and we graciously accepted waivers of every club’s door charge. “I take care of my guests,” she said. Her generosity is astounding. That’s just the way she rolls – all the while doing a fab job of working the crowd whilst balanced on stratospheric Louboutins, with a perpetually filled flute of Moet.

“Do you swallow?” is Bernice’s way of introducing herself to people. Clearly, just “Top or Bottom?” doesn’t do it for the Queen Bee, because her follow-up question is: “Do you trim?” And that’s fair, honestly, because if you want to have visitors “down there,” the house needs to be clean. When I grow up, I wanna be like Bernice.

So Superstar Sunday was spent at mega-club Zirca, where there’s an escalator leading up to the upper level. Since we were with Bernice, we were given the equivalent of a small kingdom in the VIP area. We were plied with champagne, and honestly, we were super grateful. But soon enough it became obvious that we were not meant for such fineries; it didn’t take long before we were swigging champagne straight from the bottle. Hey, it was either champagne or ginormous jugs of vodka cranberry, with only four drops of vodka in it! This is Singapore, after all, and alcohol serves are tightly calibrated. So we stuck with champagne, natch.

The main draw of Superstar Sunday is DJ George Leong, who is a dish. Talented, check. Amazing handling of the crowd, check. Good looks and abs, check, check. In fact, he took his top off at around 2am to give the addled masses even more reason to worship. He did the rest of his set in topless glory. He is a hybrid DJ-slash-gigolo. What more can you ask for?

Oh, and Zirca brought the house down with confetti showers AND with featured Grindr profile-of-the-minute on the huge LED screen. Sweet. It was feel-good all around.

For a place where blowjobs and bumfun between consenting men are illegal, Singapore’s pretty happening for homos. It looks like Singapore is Singa-bore No More.

And with cheap flights daily, all it takes to get there is just a quick hop on The Cockpit. Zoom, zoom, zoom!girls or boys?!” which adds to the element of fun while you knowingly raise your eyebrows to your partner and roll your eyeballs.

James Gannaban is Asia’s Most Hyperactive Gay Boy™. Find him on http://jamesgannaban.blogspot.com/

Words: James Gannaban

Volume has a special place in my heart. Literally. I met my boyfriend, Chris, in Volume four years ago. It was a rainy night in June.

He was perched with one elbow on the bar counter, flashing me a crazy smile across the club. What’s a horny, hyperactive gay boy to do? I pretended to go to the loo, of course, so I could walk by him and say hello.

Chris and I had actually been introduced the previous night by a mutual friend, Peter, but Chris was obviously busy looking for somebody else and so he snubbed me. What a quick turnaround, I thought, now that he’s giving me “the look.”

“Hello. I’m James,” I said. I have never been the shy type. “We met last night, didn’t we?”

With gay boys, it never really just stops at hello.

Chris had been in Hong Kong barely a month and was still in the process of looking for a flat. In the meantime, he was staying with a gay couple – old friends of his from Australia – until he found a suitable flat. The couple happened to be overseas at that time, so Chris had the place to himself. Perfect. It meant I didn’t have to go home to my cramped walk-up in Yau Ma Tei and risk getting a cold from the rain, because I could conveniently crash at his friends’ snobbish flat on Robinson Road.

But his friends arrived a day earlier than scheduled. I heard voices whilst I was taking a shower the next morning. And I had forgotten to take a towel into the bathroom with me. I had to open the door slightly and meekly ask for a towel whilst the boys were having breakfast. Yes, I had to do the Walk of Shame indoors even before I expected to do my Walk of Shame in broad daylight.

The rest, as they say, is history. I have practically become part of Volume’s furniture ever since, especially on free vodka Wednesday nights. (I’m cheap.) Joseph and Evan, Volume’s affable owners, have taken incredible care of Chris and me. Joseph has arranged intimate champagne tête-à-têtes during the time Chris and I weren’t quite sure yet if we’d become a couple or not. Gay boys are so fucking complicated! Evan, meanwhile, has enlisted me as a singer on Volume’s inaugural Club Anthems Asia album. My “twin sister,” Fabiola, made her debut in Volume.

When I asked Evan to describe Volume in three words, this was his succinct reply:

“Fun, friendship, and the occasional fuck.”

Brilliant.

Volume, I can’t wait for the re-invention.