i may not be so presumptuous as to claim that i'm a veteran of the gay saunas that's filled with strange encounters of anonymous sex. but if there's one thing that i've learned from years of visitng the gay baths, it's the importance of withholding your contact numbers from these random strangers. no matter how good-looking they are, no matter how many abdominal pacs they have, no matter how many inches they've inherited... it's still never wise to just give away you cellphone number without giving it at least a second thought. underneath that sexually-active exterior, you never know what's really lurking. violent tendencies? over-dependency? a possessive nature? a scat queen? this is why i reject almost every attempt from people who want to keep in touch outside the bathhouse. and to do this, i wield my trusty weapon, the 'one-time-only' policy.

'Oh i practice a one-time-only policy so i make it a point to not keep in contact with people i meet at the spa. Thanks for understanding.' it almost always works, given that most Asian men are very accommodating by nature and don't question my silly little policy.

of course, there are the few insistent ones whom i made the mistake of giving away my contacts. i remember this particular chap that kept pestering me for my number throughout the sex. thinking it was a very charming act, he asked for my number halfway through a blow job. the only thought going through my mind at that point of time was 'Teeth. Teeth! TEETH!'. i immediately succumbed to his threats and promised him my number. alas, this random stranger turned out to be a 'hooker'. not in the literal sense of someone who offers lap dances for wads of cash. but in the metaphoric whereby one is constantly trying to call at least seven or eight times a day to 'hook' up once again. just because i stick my penis into your ass a lot of times within an hour, that doesn't give you the right to do the same when it comes to calling me.

besides, i've realized that after all my years of sex with men, i prefer intercourse without any feelings or emotional shit involved. no passionate kisses which might lead to feelings of attraction. not too much holding of hands. and definitely no moaning of my name when i poke you in the behind. basically, sex without the follow-ups. the only strings i would like to see attached when it comes to my sex, are the ones beginning with G and wedged between a man's butt crevice.

the only time i broke my policy was during the period of Mr. Raffles whom i met by chance at the spa. it was initially the sex that made me want to keep contact. after the moans and groans whereby he got a chance to speak proper English, i discovered it was the accent. when i spent the night over at his parent's place, it was the three-storey Orchard Road apartment that came complete with rooftop jacuzzi and a very nice view of the Marriott. we finally came back full circle to sex, which was what put me off in the end. he had what i defined as the 'erected yet flaccid' penis. getting a hoard of Thai elephants via cargo lorries into my bumhole is way easier than putting his dick in. i think alcohol played a part in destroying our sexual relationship actually. but who am i to say? i was equally drunk as well. prolly wasn't concentrating on my sphincter-kegal exercises. oh well, that was a one-off incident.

alas, one-off is an old term now, because i gave away my number at another spa visit about a month ago. an older man of about 30 plus with a butt so muscular and tight that you could ziplock frozen vegetables in it and still have them coming out really fresh, albeit stained with fecal matter and perhaps not that frozen. i guess it was a spur of the moment decision, not having had such mind-blowingly good sex in quite a long time. i gave my number away in the hopes of re-creating that orgasmic explosion of colors in my mind once again. alas, till today, all i see are loads of irritating black and white and regret.

on that same night when i gave older man my number, he called me at least three times, two of which were missed calls and one of the which i refused to pick up. my philosophy is that it's absolutely uncool to call someone whom you've just had sex with, on the same day the deed was done. people need their time and space, post-orgasm. or at least i do. the next day, older man called again and i was quite the bastard for not picking up any of his calls. i was even more put off when i received four missed calls from him before lunch time. it was because of this, that i decided to not keep in contact with him. two weeks went by as the calls took a half-life of their own. from nearly twelve a day, it gradually tailed down to a diminished one a day. sometimes there would be guilt-inciting SMSes that asked things like 'is it something i said?' they made me feel very horrid about myself and i would think thoughts of flagellation and self-mutilation.

so you can imagine how weird and awkward it was to bump into this same guy again at the spa today. and it was a really bad time to have met. because prior to this encounter, i had already went through three sessions of sex with other men. i was starting to have that 'erected-yet-flaccid' syndrome which meant that i definitely couldn't perform anymore without the help of say medication or divine intervention by the hand of God (that didn't really come out right did it?). but guilt for not taking older man's phone calls overwhelmed me and i decided, 'Oh what the hell, let's just do it and get it over with'. older man and i made awkward conversation throughout the sex, updating each other on the ongoings in our lives. at one point, he even asked 'Is Jon really your name?'. i confirmed that it was and after that, he was moaning my name throughout the rest of the sex. a real turn off for me because i tend to associate it with dependence, a trait which i don't really like in my men.

older man claimed that he lost his phone and didn't have my number anymore. which actually explains why i haven't been receiving any of the incessant phone calls for nearly a fortnight to come. he tried asking for my number which i refused for obvious reasons. and this time, it was his turn to be turned off. he immediately withdrew my schlong from whatever orifice it was in at that time, and proceeded to put on his towel. i could smell the pungent aroma of rejection while i lay down on the bed with the 'erected-yet-flaccid' thing in my hand. older man tried again to get my number and i was still adamant about not giving it away.

but he was not giving up so easily. while i was changing downstairs he caught up with me once again, and basically invited me to walk with him to where his car was parked. left with no choice, we made the short trip to the City Hall train station. he started telling me more things about his life: how work was going, his love life, how i resembled his first ex-boyfriend, just minus the goatee and much skinnier, etc. general things, which taken into consideration the context of the situation, were what i assumed more attempts to convince me to give away my number (especially the first ex-boyfriend bit). i politely refused him and made the nearest detour to a shopping mall, giving some lame excuse to boot.

it was at that point of time when we parted, that the pangs of guilt finally got to me. it was definitely wrong on my part to have given away my contacts and false hopes that we could still meet up and perhaps go into something like a sexual relationship. but after the excessive missed calls and guilty SMSes, perhaps i had a reason to reject after all. not lessening the guilt is the fact that i did the rejection with nil SMSes of explanations or replies at all. it's not the first time it has happened. and knowing my obstinate self, don't think it'll be the last too.

this is why other than my 'erected-yet-flaccid' penis, my 'one-time-only' policy must also stand.

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