Forthnights

Lonely nights in Geylang

Sorry for the absence, but things have been rather hectic, and somewhat interesting for the past few days.

Monday morning; Barely 10 minutes after walking into office, my boss calls for a snap meeting. “The boss is bored, and he is in one of his moods again”, my colleague tells me. Little could I anticipate what was about to happen. Don’t worry; you don’t have to sit down for this.

Another 10 later I walked out of the meeting. 24 hours later, I was driving with another colleague down to Singapore.

There are a lot of things I wanted to write about; of how it feels so different going there again, alone on a work trip instead of holiday; of how sterile Singapore feels; or how Malaysia seems to lag behind in so many ways compared to our brilliant neighbour; or how similar the local culture is to us.

But in the end, I decided to just cut it short and get to the juicy bit that is on everyone’s mind, all the time: sex.

Now, just for some background; Singapore is conservatively Asian. But surprisingly prostitution is legal there. More because the government wants to manage and regulate it, rather than pretend it doesn’t exist. Ask anyone who’s ever been to Singapore, and you would inevitably be pointed to one place: Geylang Road, the conclave of the Singaporean sex trade.

My colleague was going to stay with his brother, who lives there. So there was the question on where I would stay. Not wanting to “spoil” me at such a young and tender age, my colleague tried checking me into one of the hotels nearer to Jurong Island, which was out of town, and where most of the petrochemical companies were based. But there were only 2 hotels near to the place, and both were full. And so, the only affordable choice was to go to downtown Geylang and check into one of the hotels there. O

I was sent on my way with 500 Singaporean dollars on a cab. Upon arriving at Geylang, the place was buzzing with activity. I walked around, searching for the hotel I was to check into. There seemed to be 3 groups of people there; Foreigners, mainly Indian nationals, hanging around; Elderly men, some lining up at the nearest ATM, others sitting down for supper with women young enough to be their grand daughter. Then there was the prostitutes… the entire street filled with them, plying their trade without any worries.

I finally found the hotel I was looking for 2 alleys down. In the words of my colleague who tried preventing me from staying there, “The place is a f**k joint.” And I couldn’t say he was wrong. By all appearances, it was just a regular hotel. But the fact that numerous men and women seemed to be checking in and out suggested otherwise. “Shit, the hotel staff probably think I’m here for that too!” I thought to myself. But since I was to be my place of residence for the next 2 days, I just lived with it.

I wanted to see more of the place, and so after work, I took a walk down Geylang road, looking for dinner and some things to buy for the folks back home. If there is one other good thing about Geylang road, is the food. There were so much variety, and so many shops to choose from. At least that was something the prostitutes and shops had in common. There were all sorts of them at very reasonable prices; the food I mean.

As for the other kind of meat, well, there isn’t a short supply of variety either. I could see all sorts of girls; mainland china, Filipino, Indonesian and even Indian; short, tall, fat, skinny, petite, from the downright ugly to the absolutely stunning. Its hard not to look, when every corner you take, you see women dressed in their sexiest outfit, inviting you to spend a couple of hours with them. But sex was not only the thing they offered.

In many of the restaurants, I could see aged men, sitting next to beautiful girls, just talking, chatting and having a meal. I could sense something; Maybe some of these old men are just horny old geezers, but it seemed to me that more than the sex, these old men with cash to spare were just looking for company, and a chance to feel young and wanted again, and what better way to do that than to have a beautiful young girl spending time with you, listening to you, chatting, and even sleeping with you, even if they were paid to do so. Maybe their spouse passed away, or maybe it was their marriage was dead.

Avoiding eye contact with these prostitutes sometimes proved to be difficult to me. For one, I generally give eye contact to people. I don’t believe in walking with you head tilted to the ground. I always walk watching what is in front, and I make eye contact with the people in front of me, even if its just for a while; but for some reason, my girlfriend always say I never watch where I’m going. Maybe its because I am perpetually knowing into chairs and tables. Secondly, the streets were narrow, and crowded with prostitutes and people passing by.

And on one occasion, after finally buying some presents for my girlfriend, I walked right into 3 rather attractive girls offering ‘massage’ services. Compared to the rest, these 3 seemed much more polished and less shabby. I wasn’t really ready for what happened next. There was eye contact, but I didn’t stop walking. As I passed, one girl gently clasped her hands around mine while another pulled my shirt at my chest saying “Come sir, massage.” I knew what they were, but I still could feel my face starting to flush with embarrassment; never have I ever been seduced so brazenly, what more by 3 women. Their hands felt soft and gentle. My brain froze, and I couldn’t think. But luckily, my legs continued walking, and I could feel them gradually letting go. You know that song Dory sings in Finding Nemo when the goggle drops deep into the ocean? Well, I was going “Just keep walking, just keep walking, just keep walking walking walking…..”

Quickly reaching back to my room, there was only one thing on my mind… a long cold shower to straighten out those ruffled feathers. I was planning on going for more walks around the area, to see more of the country, but now I was thinking perhaps I’d better just stay in the room and watch replays of Seinfield on TV. I bought a copy of Time magazine with some chips, sat in my room, with the TV volume up, and read the entire edition. Of course, there was the occasionally sound of couples coming in and out of the rooms. Poorly insulated, I could hear the next door TV, the sound of people showering, talking, silence (or not), then shower, then people walking out of the room about an hour later.

Gee.. I wonder what they were up to. But it sure wasn’t to check on the plumbing.

I will not pretend to be innocent and noble. But in a way, it is sad when someone is willing to give sex for money. Make not mistake about it; these girls are humans to, and I am sure at some level, they know that they is demeaning to themselves. But the chase for money, whether its for a better life or to buy that new Prada bag, has become so intense that these women offer their body to any man with enough cash.

Even more, its sadder when someone has to pay just to get someone to sit down and talk to them. I don’t know how many 60 year olds were there just wanting to get laid, but it seemed to me there were plenty of them that were more interested in just sitting down with their paid escorts, paying for dinner, just so the woman would stay and talk to them. I think it was by no coincidence that most of the men walking into the hotel with women were young guys, while the ones sitting one in the restaurant with their escorts were elderly men. The young pay for sex, the old pay for company; and if you asked me, I’d say the older men would probably pay more for an hour of conversation then young men would for legs spread wide.

Sex for procreation is miraculous & sacred; sex for bonding and intimacy is fulfilling & strengthening; sex for leisure is natural & enjoyable. But what do you say of sex for money? Which do you think lesser of; the promiscuous swinger or the prostitute? The swinger does it out of choice, but the prostitute may well do it out of desperation. But does that even matter? Would you think better of a prostitute who does it out of desperation than one who just wants more money for shopping?

Questions on morality are never easily answered. Many of us would readily condemn women who give sex for money and dirty old men that pay for it, but we fail to be so critical when our own lust and desires start to take over.

As I left Singapore, my mind wondered back to the couple in front of me the night earlier; an old man chatting animatedly to the pretty young lady holding his arm, listening attentively. Both with something to offer each other; one his money, the other her time and attention. Both seemed happy and walked away winners. How do you judge that?

posted by Compulsive Blogger @ 9:53 am Comments: 1