(blogger's note: something that i've always wanted to talk about but never got a proper chance to. originally meant for Fridae, but swapped for something else in the end. meant to titillate... literally)

how many people do you know have nipple piercings?

unless you belong to your local BDSM support group, I think there aren’t many people in the Asian context who have knowledge of someone with piercings on the nipples. what more then, to be a proud owner of a pair? but just like piercings on any other part of the body other than the ears, they are mainly meant for reinforcing one’s identity. unless you’re one of those men who find every reason to take off their tops on Sundays at the gay clubs, chances are, that seldom do other people get to see your piercings.

with all that said, let me just say that i have a piercing fetish.

but let me explain first, before you think that I get all orgasmic over screaming girls and gay men who have just seen Wentworth Miller walking down the red carpet... shirtless (*piercing shrieks*).

today’s topic is something that’s of much relevant to those of an exploratory and deviant nature: body piercings. you know... nipple rings, naval piercings, Prince Alberts and anything else that you can possibly think of to decorate the great Christmas tree down south with. and given that I used to have bilateral nipple piercings since the tender age of 16, it’s something that is both literally and metaphorically, close to the heart.

most of the men whom I have had sex with often show looks of surprise and disgust when I reveal my nipple piercings. it happens so often that I’ve come to expect it. A majority of them would normally proceed on as per sexual protocol, taking great care to avoid licking or even touching the nipples. the experienced ones would carry on and titillate. the bad ones took this chance to literally chew through your nipples, as if they were doggie treats, absolutely devoid of pain and sensation. of course, there are the rare few who get so freaked out that they politely request that I remove them before carrying on. Believe me, there’s a lot of uncharted territory when sex and piercings are involved. here's a tip: the key is to treat them like normal nipples, except that they have bits of metals in them. don't rip them off though, it's a bitch having to put them back again.

still, the niprings did not just serve as an ornament to shock and awe. they actually helped me tide through the identity crisis that comes attached with being a gay teenager. There was an entire period of time when I defined my sexuality status as ‘confused’. Those were tumultuous times. Not that I had a girlfriend or even sexual contact with any of the girls. But I thought a lot during that period. And it didn’t help that I didn’t have any social resources that I could share problems with. I, for one, was not part of the ‘in’ and uber-cool crowd that could practically flit through the secondary school setting like social butterflies.

Every village needs an idiot and the school too, requires its fair share of freaks and nerds. And a nerd indeed I was. I hung out with a group of other socially-inept boys who waxed lyrical about video games everyday. We discussed in-game strategies and the statistics about whether using (insert name of strongest weapon in game) or (insert name of 2nd strongest weapon in game) was a better bet to defeat the final boss. Nearly all of us were fighting losing battles against acne. And it didn’t help that I was overweight, sucked at all things sports-related, was crap at studies and had a gay identity crisis that nobody knew about. All this resulted in an overall lack of confidence. Hence I was the unofficial scratch pole for those irritating social houseflies.

It wasn’t until 15 when I chanced upon a website while surfing porn on my 56k. It was a wide collection of pictures meant for gay men with any fetish you could possibly think of. And boy, did it have a wide spectrum of them ranging from the mild (vanilla, shavings, uniforms) to the wild (nipple clamps, vegetables and of course, piercings). I was extremely piqued by the piercings section though. There was something about the macho men and their alternative piercing spots that made me feel like I could relate to them. They were prolly considered as freaks by the mainstream. And as a member of the outcast, that was something I could identify myself with. It was at that point of time that I committed to having nipple piercings.

About a month later, I was sitting in front of the bed room mirror, armed with a safety pin, a lighter, alcohol wipes and some Kleenex. It was a bad decision because I never did any research online and as evidenced by my inability with sports, I was a loser when it came to having a good aim. I’ve learnt that when it involves piercings, you should never do it without seeking the help of a professional. I didn’t have the luxury of ample funding back then, so I mustered what little I had and made do with it.

Still, if you like pain and prefer the route of the DIY, at least get a friend to help. There’s a tendency to over-estimate the exit puncture and end up with a lop-sided nipple piercing, which was what happened in my case. It wasn’t perfect, but it still got the job done. I went back to school the next day, filled with this secret sense of pride for having gone against the mainstream. I remember actually thinking to myself that ‘I’m special’ for being the only person in my school for having nipple piercings.

It wasn’t easy though when one of my classmates discovered my nipple rings during a sweaty PE class. The whole class eventually knew. I was prodded and pinched like fresh fish at the wet market. When people talk to me, their eyes would inadvertently be staring at my chest. And everybody referred to the piercings as ‘it’. The good thing though, was that I wasn’t ridiculed or verbally abused as bad as my pre-nipring days. I guess I had struck a chord of street cred for daring to do something like piercings. Either that or they preferred to express their abuse physically with the pinches and prods. I think I’ll go with the former.

These days, I don’t wear my rings anymore. Because growing up, I realize that there’s so much more than just a pair of nipple rings to one’s character. I’m glad that they were there to help me tide through an identity crisis. But I can’t rely on them to help me stay strong forever right? After all, long term wearing of nipple rings and the effect of gravity on old age tends to cause those nipples to droop. By then, will the girls and gay men at the red carpet be shrieking in delight, or in terror?

(*piercing shrieks*)

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