How To Be A Gentleman.

So, you want to be a gentleman, you say? Well done, old sport! Let's get right down to it, shall we?

For this exercise, you will need:

1. A top hat.

2. A walking stick, preferably black. Not that your legs need it right, old chap. Just a little something to swing as you walk. Lends a bit of class, don't you know.

3. A monocle.

4. A handlebar moustache. Preferably bleached white, if you are not yet of the suitable age.

5. A tuxedo with coat tails.

Put it all together, and if you are doing it right you should look a little something like this:

Yippee! I'm a mother father gentleman!

 or this:

I'm gonna kill him with my
umbrella-ella-ella-ella.

Okay, so that wasn't the point of this post at all, although you could do all of the above if you wanted to (and build some houses on Regent Street and Park Lane, or, try and kill Batman). 

I am glad that we have arrived at a day and age where women have gained more equality and independence in most developing or developed societies. Although there is still much to be done, I'd like to believe we have come a long way in a few short decades, thanks to the advent of feminism, and well, common sense. 

I have seen one case of extreme feminism, however. I had offered to pay for a girl's coffee the first time I met her. She took offense at my buying her a coffee, and asked me aggressively 'Why? You think I can't pay for my own coffee, issit?'

Whoa, slow down there, Destiny's Child. I'm just paying for your coffee. I later found out that she had dated a lot of men, who were, let's just say, scrubs, to use another African-American term. Men who leeched off her, where she was chauffeuring them everywhere and paying for their meals.

In saying that, however, I'd like to believe that there is still a place in society for the gentleman, the man who would still treat ladies with valor and extend some common courtesy to them. So here's a few pointers to how to behave in a gentlemanly fashion:-

1. Open the door for her and let her walk through first. Seriously, it's not that hard. I think walking through doors without being considerate of your lady friend is poor form. Especially if you swing the door close behind you as she is walking through it. The date ends right there.

2. Pull the chair out for her at the restaurant. But not from beneath her as she tries to sit down. (I'm looking at you, Psy).

I personally don't think that this is necessary in our day and age somehow. Like really, awkward even. If I were a girl, and a guy pulled out a chair for me, I would smile to myself and think 'Oh, what a... serial killer.'  

3. Pay for her meal. Okay, I know that a lot of guys (and girls, as shown from the example before) have a lot of different opinions about this. 

Maybe you want to do it because it's the first few dates and you want to impress her. Maybe you want to go Dutch because you think that's fair. Maybe you want her to pay for you because you don't want a second date. Make your own minds up about this one. I just think some girls appreciate the gesture of a guy picking up the tab for the meal. 

4. Drink your tea with your pinky sticking out when you hold your cup. Preferably without a teabag dangling from the finger. 

5. Walk into the path of oncoming traffic for her. I learnt this one from a girl I used to like back in my university days in Malaysia. She said that one of the great examples she has seen of a guy being a gentleman was a boy who would gently hold her by the arm, always standing on the side between her and oncoming vehicles as they crossed the road. It made her feel safe and cared for.

Oh, sure I have been knocked down a few times in the process, but hey, it was worth it.

6. Make sure she gets into her house safely if you are sending her home. This one I learnt from my friend in college. I used to drop my dates back at their houses after a great night out and speed off into the night, without even a backward glance. Not a good look. Wait for her to get into the house first.

Or better still, follow her into her house. 

(Now, now, everyone knows that real gentlemen don't follow ladies into their homes.

They wait for the parents to leave first.)

All right, old chap. You should have everything you need to win her heart, or get off to a stirring start at least.  Good luck now! 

I Don't Give A Fish.

Thirteen years old, and we had just moved up into high school. I was always the good Christian boy, quick to please and eager to make friends. One of the friends I remember from those days was SH.

SH was the kind of guy who always made you laugh - portly, eyes that always spoke of mischief, and a ready motor mouth that elevated him to class clown status quickly.

I remember we wrote a hilarious play of Gulliver's Travels, which we were doing for English Literature that year, and we had the class rolling about in their seats, holding their sides, trying to contain their laughter. Ah, fun times.

We were great friends during those times. Sitting in the canteen one day, I heard him exclaim "Kah-ni-nah! Man, I can't believe that she only gave us two days to finish that homework, man!"

My ears pricked up to the phrase he was using - it was foreign to me, although I had heard him using it a lot recently.

"Eh," I asked him, "What does that phrase mean ah?"

"What phrase?"

"You know, the one that you just said... Kah-ni-what?"

"Oh, Kah-ni-nah. Erm, nothing lah. It's just a, erm, sentence enhancer, you know. It doesn't really mean anything. Just makes things sound nicer. You know, like 'Oh man, today's weather is just like, kah-ni-nah hot man.'"

I took his word for it. I heard him using it a few more times and I thought, hey, sounds good - I'm going to try and incorporate it into my everyday speech. It was a little exciting - sharing that phrase, like we were in a secret society or something.

At first, I had to test the waters - I would use the phrase in front of my friends "Kah-ni-nah! I almost missed the bus today man!" or "Crap! Forgot to bring my textbook again! Kah-ni-nah!" Soon, it was part of my everyday vocabulary, and it was rolling off my tongue like a magician's phrase - Abracadabra! - on the school bus, in front of the teachers, at home...

And so I was sitting on the exercise bike in front of the television at home one evening when I exclaimed, "Oh man, this cycling really hurts my thighs, man! Kah-ni-nah!"

My father, who grew up in the Hokkien-dominant Penang, was within earshot. He had heard me use the phrase a few times at home, and had shown remarkable restraint until this point.

"Eh, stop saying that phrase lah! It means 'Fuck your mother' in Hokkien lah, stupid."

The wave of fear and realisation descended upon my thirteen year old brain like a tsunami, I tell you. You mean, all this while... And, in front of my teachers...

He tricked me!

"Kah-ni-n...." I exclaimed under my breath, almost automatically.

"Oi!" came the reprimand from my already displeased father.

"Erm, I mean, oh dear!"

SH was going to have a lot of explaining to do tomorrow! He was going to get a quick kick up his sentence-enhancing butt!

******************************

Those very close to me will know that one of the only vices that I have is that I swear sometimes. (Although, I do indulge in... okay, maybe make that two vices. Ah, and then there's also the... and the... oh dear.)

Oh, I have friends who could curse to make a sailor blush. I had a friend who use to classify himself in secretarial terms - he proudly boasted that he spoke at a rate of 15 'bwps' or 15 bad words per sentence.

I know of another friend who cusses like a fishmonger, and it is so ingrained into his everyday speak yet he does it so amicably that you never take offence at him if you knew him well. This friend is ironically, a vegetarian. Go figure. No amount of not eating meat is going to save your soul, my friend.

Of course, we were taught at home and at school and at Sunday School that swearing was a bad thing. Your friends would out you with glee - "Cikgu, dia mencarut!" or "Teacher, he said bad words!" This would result in you getting a tongue lashing or a good ol'-fashioned beating or demerit points.

Bleeding little snitches.

In Sunday School you weren't allowed to use God's name in vain, so "Oh my God!" became "Oh my gosh!" or "Oh my goodness!" Even then, a teacher once pointed out - You're not even allowed to say "Oh my goodness!" because there is no goodness in you. Only God is good. (Here you go, kids! Enjoy your guilt-ridden childhood!)

I just think sometimes that swearing is a natural reaction, an exclamation at a situation or an exasperation that cannot be encapsulated in any other way save for that one economical word or phrase that expresses it all.

There's all this fear of judgement and being outed by our friends, however, and till this day, we try to suppress it as much as we can, as is evident in our kid-friendly variation of our swear words, such as:

Shit - Sheesh, Shoot, Shucks, Crap, Crud, Poop

What the hell! - What the heck!, What the heaven!, What on earth!

Fuck - Fudge, Fish, Eff, Fer*toot!*, Freak/Frig, Four-letter word (Although it was a little cumbersome, like "Go four-letter word yourself lah, idiot!)

Bastard - Basket (pronounced "Baaaassket!")

Bloody - Blooming, Bleeding

Damn - Dang, Darn

Ass - Donkey, Butt, Bum

Son of a bitch! - Son of a gun!, Sun on the beach!

The intentions were always the same, but somehow softened by these euphemisms, ie. "Sheesh! He is so dang annoying! I just wish I could throw a bleeding shoe through that fishing wall at that baaaassket!" sounds a lot friendlier than its actual counterpart.

So yeah, I have it from good sources that my father used to employ sentence enhancers quite liberally in his younger days. That was until us kids came along. Then the swearing got even worse!

Hahaha! No, he decided to cut it out completely, although it would escape once in a while when he wasn't careful.

Until that wonderful fateful day when I have to finally put on the mantle of a responsible father, please don't be surprised if you hear me using the occasional choice sentence enhancer (ie. swearing my fishing head off like a foul-mouthed sun on the beach), okay?

It just means I've grown really comfortable with you.

The Reluctant Narcoleptic

I am running on fumes.

I think I am still shift-lagged from my 7 night shifts. Last night I went to bed at about eleven pm, and then woke up at 12.30 am, and I couldn't get back to bed. Tossed and turned until about 4.15 am when I decided that this was ridiculous - if I couldn't sleep then I might as well start the drive to Ballarat and hopefully find some rest here.

It is by the sufficient grace of God that I made it here with so little sleep. Anecdotally, I hear that people who work in healthcare are 12 times more likely to be involved in car accidents compared to other road users. That figure is not so hard to believe now.

The house was freezing and I had to wait for it to warm up before I could crawl into my cold, cold bed for another hour and a half of sleep. The alarm was an unwelcome disruption to my REM dream-stage sleep.

I pulled myself out of bed to shower, and then went for three hours' lecture followed by seven and a half hours of work. I think I ran on the twin combo of energy bars and adrenaline today.

I come home and I indulge in a little bit of emotional eating - making up for my lack of energy from a well-rested body. Ironically now I have both a brain and a gut to work now, but only enough blood for one organ at a time.

How tired am I now? I am writing this and I am micro-sleeping. I nod off and I dream vivid five second dreams and then I wake up again to type on. It is as if I am having my head dunked into the Ocean of Dreams and then pulled up for a breath of Reality every so often again and again. The reluctant narcoleptic.

I can only imagine what it must have been like for every other doctor around the world who have had to brave through 36 hours shifts every three days. I mean, seriously, how is that even safe, both for the doctor and the patient?

Anyways, I just wanted to capture this moment before I give into one of these five second dreams and pursue it to its end instead of coming up for air again. I hope I catch a good one.