Singapore Sling

I am at Hooters in Singapore, which is the "first in Asia". It is Hooty Hour, according to the girl with orange shorts up to where her hymen used to be. They serve a dish called the Lover's Knot, which is chicken with mushrooms (and apparently has nothing to do with knots or lovers. Genius marketing). They are playing "Strawberry Fields" on the house system and have mispelled a drink on the menu, "Lover's Portion". It does not get any weirder but they do have Heinz ketchup and mozzerella sticks, so I could definitely live here. I could, however, deal without the tits. Today I also saw my first Taco Bell in five weeks. It was like seeing a unicorn.

Two days ago I broke down and visited a gay sauna. A month without anything but a prostrate massage led me to desperate measures. I paid my "membership fee", buzzed through a windowless door and was given a locker. I am not a sauna kinda guy and this was only the second time that I really remember visiting one. There had been jaunts to one place it Toronto during my ecstasy phase, but that was because it was the only dark place to come down at 7am on a Monday morning. I was clearly not keeping a blog in those days.

For sauna newbies, the game is pretty simple. Take off your clothes (save a towel), turn left at the dusty weight room and enter a dimly lit labyrinth of sin. To be honest, I was not looking for nookie and just searching for something that felt dirty, even if it was just the vibe in the air. The porn chip in my brain needs to connect to something regularly or I will just start jerking off in a Mcdonald's without even knowing it.

Unfortunately I forgot that the place would be filled with asians, who greatly resemble tiny aliens inside a maze with poor light. I ran from their clutches, desperately trying to find someone over the four foot mark.

So this is where things get filthy and I would caution family members to stop reading. It's also when my google adwords start making interesting link choices.

I found the one lone caucasian, a French college student. He was all kinds of hot. I would like to thanks Jesus Christ for three years of high school French - between our Franglais we were able to deduce that a massive hookup was forthcoming. I kinda grabbed him and headed for a darker room with a door. I pulled the door shut and heard a clink as my body connected with something cold and metallic. We had entered the sling room.

S+M is just something that old people do because they have run out of options - I am not there yet and headed back for the door. Then I realized that this experience would make for the best blog title ever - I swear to you this is why I stayed. How can you pass up a wordplay like that? It didn't help that the Aliens were outside, waiting to abduct and probe us in ways that are even unpleasant to me.

So, the French guy and I started fooling around bigtime. There was so much wood that we could have started a fire. Towels fell off and I spied a free condom dispenser on the wall. I need to install one of those at home.

If you have never attempted to fuck someone in a sling before, I suggest that you seek instruction before you try it. Even a diagram or hyroglyphic. If you are as inexperienced as I was, it can be as confusing as assembling a desk from Ikea. There is the constant re positioning, which is about as romantic as back surgery. Entry is quite simple given the exposed anatomy but then it gets a bit too Ringling Brothers and moves into a trapeze act. I awkwardly got some sort of motion going but there was no leverage, sort of like when astronauts try to move in zero gravity. I wasn't sure if I was supposed to grab him, the chains or a combination thereof.

Then there is sex noise, compounded with school playground noise, which is disconcerting on about nine levels. It goes like this in the blink of an eye: Slam, clank, pause for sling to come back down, bigger slam, relaunch. Way too much going on. Frenchy was well into it. I flashed to the future when he and his boyfriend Marcel would attend the Monsieur Leatherman competition, both wearing studded halter tops. I was thinking about closing down the whole operation when he blew like Mt St. Helen, making me wonder what else was on the floor in this room. Sex to completion was out of the question for me and I wasn't going to play the fake orgasm game. A simple "au revoire" and I was out the door, showered and headed for the street in five minutes.

Everyone talks about how reserved and sanitary Singapore is. About how there is no underbelly. I think they just aren't looking in the wrong places.