loving a partner – life with han

By Clarence Singam

Clarence Singam shares his growing pains with his partner of five years, and why it’s important to learn to fight fairly, keep growing and for the couple to have a mutual fan club in each other.

We were living in a tiny apartment in Club Street then and had just had a huge row. Sitting on the floor between the open kitchen and dining table, he said, “Let’s get the rings.” We had bought the rings a few months back but had kept it for a special occasion to give it to each other. I did not quite expect to be exchanging rings right after a row while sitting on a grimy floor which required some serious mopping. But that’s how I started wearing the ring you now see on my finger if you ever run into me. That is the closest we have ever come to having a marriage ceremony.

I met Han on 17 October 1998 in a Methodist church one Saturday afternoon during a seminar on the Bible and homosexuality. Needless to say, the theologians speaking at the seminar – which had no woman or gay speaker – stated quite categorically that homosexual relationships are sinful. Two things struck me that afternoon. Firstly I wondered why those theologians didn’t instead choose to hold a seminar on teenage abortion or divorce which seem more pressing issues in our society. Secondly it hit me hard that a bunch of religious leaders who stood there supposedly “condemning the sin but arguing for the love of the sinner” never ever thought of spending even five minutes to pray for the grieving family of Matthew Shepard. Shepard, who had been mentioned by one of the speakers, had been brutally pistol-whipped and strung out to die with his hands stretched out like a cross by two Bible-quoting men just five days before this seminar. Needless to say the arguments presented did not convince me.

And somehow I don’t think God (or karma, fate, providence or chance – take your pick) was convinced either and perhaps he decided to play a joke on the religious pomposity present that day. He engineered my meeting Han that afternoon. I am not sure if it was love at first sight but I was struck by Han’s ability to sense my struggle with my sexuality. I was touched by his sincerity in reaching out to me. There was a quiet gentleness within that I found deeply attractive and still do today.

The Importance of Not Rushing

Han and I did not meet again till late August 1999 though we communicated sporadically. By then I had been through some major transitions. Got retrenched. Took a job with a significant pay cut. Became comfortable being gay. Started to drift away from Jane my girlfriend at the time, as I realised I could only ever love her as my friend and sister. I also lost some close friends who could not accept that I now found being gay was perfectly acceptable.

I invited Han out to lunch on the 29th of that month (when you are unsure about a prospective partner, always do lunch or coffee not dinner). I gave him a book, which had been a faithful companion to me during that time of transition, Rilke’s Letters to a Young Poet, a book on the lessons of life. As providence would have it, Han already liked Rilke’s poetry, which he subsequently introduced me to.

We met again a week later and spent the afternoon together. I still remember standing at the traffic lights in front of the Heeren soon after he met. Just as we were about to cross the road, he said, “I have a present for you,” then passed me a worn out umbrella. “An umbrella?” was my response, the first of many communication disconnects that were to come in our relationship. “Look inside,” he replied mildly flustered.

I peered into the umbrella. There was a blue rose in it. That was Han’s first present to me. I still have the petals of that rose. I keep it in a bottle where I store the petals and stems of the roses he has given me in our journey together thus far.

That weekend I made up my mind. I asked him if he would be mine. As they say in our world, the first meeting is a date, the second an engagement and the third a marriage. Unfortunately or perhaps very fortunately, Han was just recovering from a horrendous breakup and he wasn’t about to commit to anything anytime soon. His ambivalence threw me into a turmoil that lasted eight months. My work got affected and my boss got increasingly concerned. The dear soul rationalised that I was having girlfriend problems so he was very understanding. When I am going through a rough time, everyone around me knows. I am no poker face. But Han is different. I did not realise that he was under tremendous pressure trying to recover from his break up, coping with work and his family situation. Having me pounding away at the door merely worsened things for him. He feared to be vulnerable again. In the end he felt he needed to get away and left quite suddenly for a break. Till today I am not sure what happened during that break. But the first Saturday after Han came back, just before we entered the annual general meeting of a HIV volunteer group we were helping out at, he stopped me and asked, “Do you think we could treat each other as if we just met for the very first time today?” That was how Han became my partner eight months after I became his.

Looking back I am glad it took those eight months. The pain was unbearable. But it gave me time to work through my own difficult transitions and gave Han some time to grieve over his losses. If Han had had less presence of mind (like me) and had agreed to start a relationship on the rebound I think we would have brought many more unresolved issues into the relationship. As it was, I was already bringing into the relationship enough emotional baggage to fill a full set of Louis Vuitton trunks with.

Sensing Our Different Rhythms

Once before, I had become upset with Han. As usual when I am upset, rant and I rave like a madman. He just kept quiet throughout. Then inexplicably, he walked towards a candleholder that was broken brought it near me and started to repair it. “Do you even care enough to listen to me?” I exploded. He looked up. I still remember his slightly bewildered and pained expression as he said to me dejectedly, “If I did not care for you, would I even try to repair your candleholder?”

This incident taught me that my partner might not respond towards me the way I respond to him but that does not mean that he does not care as much as I do. A simple lesson you might think but how often it is that we expect quite unconsciously our partners or spouses to love as we love? How often do we treat the way we love and communicate as better than their ways? I do it far too often.

These incidences also taught me that our partners might have different rhythms from us. They may not decide things as fast. They may process things differently. They struggle with issues, which may not have even crossed our minds. And part of being in a relationship is to learn to sense the rhythms of our loved ones.

Learning to Fight Well

I have always felt that when it is time for a fight, you should make it a really good fight. Make it loud. Bang a few things break some if possible. Fight rough – use all the dirty tricks you can imagine to break your partner’s will. And if you can’t break his will then get broken by him. Then top it up with long hot steamy passionate make up sex after that. And it used to “work” all the time. Except that I never quite expected a partner who would just drop everything in the middle of an argument and walk out for some fresh air leaving you with no audience for your verbal savagery. At that point my canine ferocity always turns to puppy panic. With Han I can’t really fight unfairly anymore.

I am learning that while I tend to vent my emotions, Han vents inwardly. He takes the brunt and often bears it quietly. I am glad he learnt how to walk out on me. It is the signal that I have gone too far. At some point I decided that if I loved him I would learn to argue in a way that built us up rather than ripped him apart. Recently though, perhaps because we have been together a while, he gives me more leeway – so I get to fight dirty a little once in a while. But I don’t like myself much anymore after each dirty skirmish. I am learning that in a relationship my ego needs to die quite a lot. And this is often the hardest part. Not because it is hard, but because it is so terribly humbling. Saying “I am sorry” can often be the hardest thing to do in a relationship. And yet it is such an important phrase to use sincerely.

Making Sure It Can Get Messy

One thing we did – which I still think is a good move – was getting a home. At first we rented a tiny place. Over a year later, we found a place that was relatively cheap. Han borrowed some money and I pitched in the amounts I had and we got a home. A lawyer friend who was concerned for me heard about this. He asked me if I knew what I was doing suggesting that if things didn’t work out it would be extremely messy, as we would have legal obligations, which we just could not walk away from. And I have friends – straight and gay – who have had to untangle financial and legal commitments to one another when things went bad. It was painful to watch them work through it. But you know I have never met a couple that regretted this decision.

There have been times when I have been worried; particularly when we were going through a really rough patch once. But I think it was the right decision for me. Call us masochists but if this does not work out, we want it to be difficult for the two of us.

Everything we say about wanting long-term relationships means nothing if we keep open escape exits in our relationships. This doesn’t mean of course that we rush into these decisions but I think after three years of being together if you are still totally financially separate in your lives, it is usually not good thing. If you can’t trust a person with your money, you can’t trust him or her with your heart. And for me the latter is so much more precious.

We also made sure that we integrated each other into the lives of our families who did accept us. If Han and I were to ever break up, it wouldn’t just be about us. It would be about breaking up with his grandma and an auntie, my mum and my sisters, his younger brother and his girlfriend and even his dad. And then of course there are the friends who have become family like Keong and Ho who moved into our block recently.

I often meet people who tell me that they plan to have long-term relationships but that they and their partners will be totally financially separate. Then on top of that sometimes because they are not out to their families, they and their partners plan to live separately for the next ten to twenty years meeting once or twice a week till their parents die. Perhaps such arrangements are possible for some but I really don’t think a long-term relationship is possible without the partners eventually sharing some kind of home together even if it just means renting a room. We would never dream of telling a straight couple to get married and live apart for years on end and not share financial resources. And yet we apply these to ourselves.

Mutual Fan Club

We were walking back home after dinner one night with Dickson an old friend, just chatting. Suddenly Dickson blurted out, “You know I realise that the two of you have a mutual fan club going on between you.” We had a good laugh about it but it is somewhat true and perhaps important. I don’t really care what the world thinks about me but I do care very much that Han respects what I do and is excited about my life. Sometimes our most intimate moments are when he asks me to read an article he has written. Often I can’t really comment as the stuff he writes goes beyond my depth but I correct the grammar and tell him whether I liked the tone and texture of the article even if I don’t understand it. I think being excited about your partner’s life is an important part of a relationship. Last Sunday I was giving a talk and Han appeared unexpectedly. Perhaps it is a trivial thing but it meant a lot to me that Han took the time despite his punishing schedule to come hear me speak in a setting he now has very little in common with.

I think healthy relationships must have a small dose of “delusional idealisation” – if I may call it that. Without losing our grip on reality, good relationships must have some amount of hero worship between the partners. You must think that your partner, your girlfriend or husband is at some level the best thing there is. This is not to say that you ignore his or her warts but that in love, every now and again even the warts get transformed into the delightful pebbles of a Zen garden. We need to get excited or at least interested in the things our partners cherish.

We Just Got To Keep Growing

I am no expert on relationships. What works for me may not work for you. Heck, I am not even sure what the future holds for Han and me. Last year, Han moved to New York and will be there for at least another two years. Our phone bills are unmanageable and the 12-hour time difference wrecks havoc on communications. I often get fed up of having to caress the webcam image of his face on my computer screen every few nights. And I wonder how we are going to cope.

But then when I go to bed sometimes, I sense him beside me. And as I drift into my sleep I see myself caressing his soft skin. I trace my fingers along the crevice of his strong back along his shoulders to his outer arm. Then I plant a kiss on his forehead between his brows and one each on his gentle eyes while my thighs connect with the warmth of his. And I am reminded that only a few things truly matter. I love Han. He loves me. And if this relationship is going to have any chance of lasting well, we each need to keep growing emotionally as partners and as individuals.

Clarence Singam is a counselling psychologist with Oogachaga (www.oogachaga.com), a charitable a pro-people and pro-family sexuality affirming counseling and support group agency. He may be contacted at clarence@oogachaga.com.