His name is Mike.

I met him at Redhill Mrt station, and before long we were on my sofa in my living room and he was hugging me and kissing my neck and cheeks.

While he was hugging me, I looked at his pants (or rather the pants I gave him) and realized:

“Gosh no, he has a bloody erection“.

I am not kidding. It really happened. I am no gay literature writer.

Att first, at 11pm, I was sitting down at the Redhill Mrt Station, then Mike came to sit behind me. After some time elapsed, he asked me for some money. I obliged and gave him three dollars, thinking that he needed transport fare. Suddenly he mentioned that he was homeless, nobody helped him, and that he was suicidal.

Because it was too late at night for me to contact a social worker i know, I told him to sleep at a playground near my home and help him the next morning. I was also planning to bring him to my church to see if they could help too, since he is a converted Indian (he furnished a tattoo of Mother Mary on his right arm). At first he was reluctant because he was going to find a friend at Clementi. When I asked him if his friend could help him, he said no. His friend could only give him alcohol. Mike is an alcoholic.

So I offered to help him. I will let him into my home, bathe, shave and give him a change of clothes. Then he will go downstairs to sleep at the playground, since my parents are at home sleeping. He agreed, though he was really skeptical of me. Throughout the whole trip to my home, he kept telling me not to cheat him and that he is not trying to cheat me either. I promised him with a solemn shake of hands that I won’t. And I had to touch his hands many times to assure him of my best intentions. At that point, he was filthy, and just touching his hands and shoulders gave him acceptance that society had denied. He asked for a hug, I hugged him and the tickle of his beard made me laugh and forget about his filth. His faith in humanity renewed, he told me more details of his life:

Mike was in jail for 28 years for doing drugs, violence, and an array of crimes. He was released on April 22 (I think 2009, he didn’t say which year), and he has been homeless and drunk since at the age of 46.

Mike wants to live. He does not want to be drunk anymore. When I offered him a bath, he asked me if he could shave. He wants to change, and the first thing to do will be to groom. And it does make sense. Unkempt with the stench of alcohol, he cannot possibly be confident in himself, or inspire confidence in others as well. Having a bath and shave will mean so much to him.

Mike said that he wanted to work and that he didn’t mind doing any job, even those paying around $500. His physical condition was good too; his grip was stronger than I expected.

Mike apparently did not have any sex in 6 years or so; a point he made when telling me that at least he did not have sex and drank instead, and that it was pointless to have a woman sexually without being able to provide for her. Strangely enough, the math means that he had sex in prison, but I did not want to pursue the matter further.

Anyway, having brought Mike home at this point, I left him to use the amenities of my toilet and passed him my change of clothes. After having bathed and completely clean, he came to me. I wanted to chat with him for a bit, so I brought him to the living room. He sat down on the sofa uninvited, and asked me if he could watch the television. At midnight.

Needless to say, out of the fear of waking my parents up, I said no. He insisted; I refused. A feeling in me told me that if I gave in, he will have stranger demands, which unfortunately, were soon to come.

Having declared that my decision was resolute, he accepted the fact that the television will not be turned on. But, the first strange request came. He touched my hands, remarking that they were really rough, and he rubbed them all over. I told him that its because I trained in Judo, and he got interested. Then he asked to see my body. I said no. I am not comfortable to take off my shirt in front of a stranger. He got a bit aggressive, and insisted, but backed down after I insisted with a greater intensity.

Suddenly he asked to hug me. I obliged. It was after all natural for him to want to hug, a gesture of love he never had for… over 30 years. However, it soon got uncomfortable. He started to kiss me on my cheeks, and I was thinking “its okay Norvin, Westerners do it too”. Then I pushed him away and wanted to talk to him to find out more. He asked for another hug. I obliged once more. Then when hugging me, he kissed me again on the cheeks, then he licked my left cheek.

Needless to say, I freaked out. And by this point, I noticed that he had an erection, and I suddenly realized that something has gone wrong. I pushed him away, and told him that I was feeling really uncomfortable and that I need my own personal space. But apparently, homelessness and institutionalized life had deprived him of normalcy and all understandings of human norms. He couldn’t really understand and felt sad that he was rejected.

He asked to lie down on my lap for five minutes, thinking that it was a compromise. Much as I wanted to assure him of my love for him and that being destitute has not deprived him of love, I couldn’t do so. All barriers of my personal space have been violated by him, and I cannot find the heart in me to trust a man with an erection.

I felt that this must end. I realized that he is straight, but the sudden physical intimacy he experienced has in some way generated lust within him or perhaps triggered the natural instincts of his lower half. Not wishing to change his sexual orientation, I told him that he was going to the playground really soon, and I will help him again tomorrow, at 7am. With breakfast.

He continued to insist for hugs. I allowed him to, minus the kissing. Then he asked for me to look at him. His hand went behind my head and I could feel the strength of his hand. Had I not been a Judoka, I will have been unable to resist. My personal analysis is that he has finally found someone who was willing to look at him in the eye – someone which an eyesore of the disgust-adverse society can hardly find. Through the gaze of another, he has finally found proof of his existence; to be beheld is existence itself. But not wishing to accommodate any of his requests anymore, I decided to stop the whole thing and told him that he was going to the playground now.

His erection having died down, he became more practical. When I was near the door, he asked me if I could give him a portable radio. I said no. He pointed to the antique radio I had at home and asked me if he could have it. It was my dead uncle’s. Disgust displaced some compassion at this request. I diplomatically disagreed and told him that a bath, shave, change of clothes and a day which I will dedicate to helping him is all I will do. And I brought him down to the void deck.

There, he cried, and thanked me for everything, all the love I showed and the fact that no-one has ever bothered to help him to this extent before. Despite the situation verging on homoerotism, and the occasional commerical request, I still felt a lot of love for him. Because I felt that he really loved me. Though he was a little aggressive in physcial contact with me, his eyes showed… that he really lacked such love, and therefore he could only demand more for a love he never knew.

Let us not judge him. His behavior is caused by society. By us.

(Update soon on helping him find shelter)