The first sign of morning forced through the gap between the curtains that I failed to draw fully and landed squarely onto my face, almost persistently determined to revive me from what seemed to be a concussion… an alcohol induced concussion.

I firmly shut my eyes, shielding it from the assaulting brightness as I attempt to gather my nerves and senses that had apparently collectively abandoned me. My head heavy, feeling like it was cemented to the pillow, evidently reminding me that last night’s one too many Absinthe, was proving to be rather poor, or more like zero consideration. 

Feeling the remanence alcohol making its course through my blood stream, displaying every ounce of unwillingness to leave without contest, my head spun and I thought to myself, “My… somewhere along the way, I suppose the alcohol must have gotten a lot heavier than what I can recall or the reduced tolerance spells the beginning of the ‘over 30years of age’ syndrome catching up with me because this feeling is truly, lack of a more refine vocabulary, !”

“Age catching up? Damn that vile yet sobering thought!” Slowly, the numbness of my senses wore down and I became more aware of the lingering bitter taste in my mouth, together with my mom’s recent incessant reminder ringing in my ears that am over 30years old. And to think that I was always under the impression that the adding of few more years to my life would amount to some good like say; allow me the autonomy to live my life the way I want to and at the pace I want to. Instead, I am now conditioned to recognise that my theory is a myth and that I am a selfish son. For from the day I turned 30years old, there was not a chance where my mom, the irreplaceable love of my life, would let up the chance to etch into my mind, my duty of being her only son = marry + grandchild, the weightage of bearing the Jung family name = marry + grandchild, the responsibility of being the eventual sole-inheritor of the Jung Fund House that owns a significant amount of business investments from Medical to Hospitality to Commercial and Residential properties = marry + grandchild.

I exhaled deeply, in perhaps a lame attempt to purge out those insinuating awful thoughts that pointed to the exodus of my days of being young and blew away some long strands of hair tickling my nose.

I struggled to sit up and opened my eyes to the familiar furnishing and environment I have grown accustomed to after seeing it twice a month for 2years now. That’s right, another one of the rooms at K Grand Hotel, where my bi-monthly recreational activity would typically draw to a sensuous close.       

I got out of bed to pick up my clothes and stopped momentarily to look at the sleeping, warm, physical form next to me whose pretty face I could not put a name to. Before heading for a sobering shower, I did a double take for evidence of protection usage from last night’s merry making, whilst at the same time reaffirming my player status.

10mins after, looking overused, like during my medical internship days where pulling all-nighters at the A&E Department was a norm, I dragged my less handsome face towards the private lift lobby.

It is during times like this that I truly appreciate the perks that came along with the brotherhoods I forged - in this case, Kang Min Hyuk, for making my access to the private lifts at his family owned K Grand Hotels possible. Given that it is for K Grand Hotel’s owners exclusive use, my less glorious activities were afforded a lot more discretion as the risk of running into most people, especially my parents, was greatly reduced.

I turned to look out of the private bubble glass lift, allowing the bright early morning sunray lure me back to light after a wicked night, as it gradually descended to the carpark. I slowly feel more of my soul retur