Eugene (Curly Hair) -- My Sexless Friend

Eugene (curly hair) is Eugene (curly hair) because there is one too many Eugenes in my phone contact list.

He is as sexless as an amoeba.

To be sociologically correct (afterall, Sociology is what both Eugene and I study in NUS), he is *genderless with respect to me.

Eugene (curly hair) is currently my favourite male friend. He makes me feel more human than woman. Gender is a complicated thing, something which has given me much trouble recently in my relationship. So it was nice being with my "agender" (to the tune of 'apathy' and 'apolitical')friend yesterday afternoon. We went shopping together at Raffles City. I am honestly no fan of shopping; I don't take too well with parting with my money over obviously-overpriced merchandise (which is basically almost everything in Singapore malls). Yet, his company not only relieved me of the moodiness I have been experiencing the last couple of weeks, but also made my shopping experience therapeutic.

He gives me attention, but not because I am female. He isn't lecherous in the way he looks at me; he doesn't focus on my physical attributes in his gaze or comments. Neither does he try hard to be a 'man' in my presence. Simply said, my feminine side isn't self-conscious when I am with Eugene (curly hair). I am purely human, untainted by gender.

I admit I was in a vulnerable state yesterday, but this very decent guy took no advantage of that. He advised me totally as a friend with my best interests at heart.

I trust him so much that I know if I were wasted (which I have never been, and doubt I would be in the near future), I could trust him to take me home safely.

Thanks for a wonderful time yesterday, Eugene (curly hair).

*Sex is a physical attribute; Eugene (curly hair) definitely has a penis (not that I've seen or felt it, but I believe it exists somewhere, some size under that zipper). Gender, on the other hand, is a social construct. Gender is what makes men feel compelled to take care of women, pay for their drinks and conquer them, and what makes women wear ridiculousy uncomfortable apparel to be feminine, expect men to be decisive, are attracted to men physically larger etc. Gender is such a powerful social construct that we never notice how corporate women in pants often command more respect and power than women in flowery skirts (i.e. because it is still very much a man's world and feminism is regarded a symbol of weakness).

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The morning after: On hindsight, Eugene does practise gender. He opened the door for me and sent me home in a cab that night. Perhaps at the end of the day, sex and gender aside, what I got from Eugene was simply his care, respect and regard for me as a human, as a friend.