American Boys

Hello, Friends!

"I've slept with Aladdin, Buzz Lightyear and the teapot," my friend, G, enumerated.

There's a strong temptation to fetishize Disney twinks - that's shorthand for pretty, young bunnies who work at the Mouse House - wherever there's a Disneyland close by. Hong Kong isn't so exempt. And why not. Disney twinks are possibly some of the most beautiful, sexy and talented creatures you'll ever come across in life. Plus they all seem to be uniformly afflicted with the Peter Pan Syndrome - with their looks, as with their perpetually childlike wonder towards the world. Working in the Magic Kingdom will do that to you.

Gay Day 2009

I have had my share of Disney twinks; I was a Disney twink for 2.5 years. When you're in that environment, you tend to believe that the whole world is just as good looking - that all gay men have perfect teeth, perfect bodies and perfect hair. Whilst that's not too far from the truth, most gay men, in fact, do not live in a perfect world. Only Disney twinks do. They live in a perfect land that's curated with perfectly groomed shrubs, perfectly beautiful flowers, perfect clothes, and perfectly orgasmic fireworks that always seem to go off in perfect timing. Cue kiss with Prince Charming.

Most of us have to face grotty workplace politics daily, devoid of music and laughter and good cheer. We struggle to find beauty most of the time whilst we grapple with the grind of normal life. Sure, we try and do our best to perfect ourselves in the gym, in spas, in yoga studios. But we do so with great effort because, unlike Disney twinks who project images that our collective (wet) dreams are made of, we're just... regular folks.

Disney twink-hood is an aspiration. It's like the "American Dream" for gay people. The fantasy is: If you work at it hard enough, you'll be rewarded with a perfect life.

The first ever American I dated was stunning. He had a perfect complexion that was as black as it was beautiful. There weren't many gay black boys where I came from, so he looked super exotic to me. I was blinded with infatuation.

"Suck my hotdog," he barked, which I found a little off-putting. Meh. Game over. I gathered my overnight bag, took a bus back to Tsing Yi, and never looked back.

My second American was a little bit more refined. He had a warm, mocha complexion that made me want to just drink him up. And he had a crazy smile that always set my heart a-flutter. When we went out on dates, we'd make sure to cuddle and hold hands, as though the world were our beautiful, personal oyster. He made me listen to classical music, choral music and Shirley Bassey. Then we'd fall asleep naked, blanketed only by the dramatic crescendos of music from bygone days. It was too fantastic, it was bound to fizzle. And it did.

My third American was blonde and blue eyed. If you look up "Golden Boy" in Wikipedia, his photo'll be winking at you. And shit, this guy was just as beautiful in the inside as he was outside.

Of course the truth to the matter is, these boys are just passing through. A job in Hong Kong is like a little vacation for them, which only contributes to the fantasy. Nothing makes you hungrier than the implicit knowledge that time is short, and is about to end soon.

But I was so smitten with my Golden Boy, I travelled all the way to Florida to visit him. He took me to all four Disney parks in Orlando, as well as to Universal Studios. And then we took a Disney cruise to the Bahamas.

Ah, what a dream.

And like all dreams, you inadvertently wake up.

I had to leave my Golden Boy in the States; I had to return to Hong Kong in order to fulfill my destiny as Asia's Most Hyperactive Gay Boy™.

That's it for my American Tales (tails?). I've since gone Australian, since Aussie boys seem to like Asia well enough to actually get here in the first place, stay here, and create a life together!

But that's another story, for another day.

Happy 4th of July to my dear American friends!


With Affection,
James

Chris & James / Gay Day 2009