Summary

The narrative recounts the personal experiences of an Asian gay man navigating relationships, including a complex interracial romance with a white man, while working on a cruise ship.

Abstract

The author shares a deeply personal story of his journey as an Asian gay man who came out later in life. While working as a photographer on a cruise ship, he encounters a series of romantic challenges, including a brief affair with a closeted Filipino crewmember and a more significant relationship with a white IT specialist. The relationship with the white man is marked by a dramatic shipboard fire and a missed opportunity to photograph penguins in Antarctica, which later becomes a valuable NFT. The story reflects on the complexities of interracial relationships, the pain of lost opportunities, and the eventual realization that the relationship was not based on genuine love but on fetishization of Asian men.

Opinions

The author implies that his initial attraction to the white manager may have been influenced by a desire to conform to societal standards of beauty and partnership.
There is a subtle critique of the white partner's actions, suggesting a sense of ownership and control rather than mutual respect and equality in their relationship.
The author expresses regret over missed opportunities, particularly the chance to photograph penguins, which could have been a significant career moment.
The narrative conveys a sense of disillusionment with the idea of romantic love, especially within the context of interracial gay relationships where power dynamics and stereotypes play a role.
The author reflects on the fetishization of Asian men in the gay community, as evidenced by his ex-partner's preference for "Asian boys" rather than a mature relationship with an Asian man.

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The Terrible Price of Being an Asian Gay Man in a Relationship With a White Gay Man

I missed the opportunity to see the penguins

Photo by Ketut Subiyanto: https://www.pexels.com/photo/man-fixing-another-man-s-pants-4670629/

I came out late. I dated very few men in my life. None of the first few loves were white. Love is supposed to be blind, right?

I was already 36 when I worked on cruise ships as a photographer. On my first week at sea, I wanted to go home. I felt it wasn’t for me. A very critical white manager didn’t help my situation. Was it because I’m Asian or was it because of my K-pop glass skin complexion?

The plan was to buy me a plane ticket back to Manila. I also met a young Filipino crewmember, who wasn’t gay but let’s just say Filipino men are more fluid.

But one night after I helped him clean his rifle, he told me that when we got back home, it was over.

At 27, he had a wife, and 2 kids, and his wife was 3 months pregnant. He went on to tell me he felt it would be a boy. He was so happy that I didn't want to remind him that he had already been at sea for 7 months.

Math wasn't his thing.

I guess he only enjoyed gay sex while at sea. So, without a rifle to clean, I decided it was time to go home.

In December I saved enough to pay for my ticket, but then I met a white guy in San Francisco.

Change of plans.

I knew he was gay — my gaydar never fails — it runs on solar power.

He joined the ship in San Francisco. His job? Let’s just say he’s the IT guy, later on, when the relationship ended ‘IT’ would mean differently, he was Pennywise.

The Internet cafe which he managed was beside the photo gallery.

We had an all-female photography team. He was quite handsome so my teammates thought he was eyeing one of them. The Mexican photographer calls him ‘mucho guapo’ which in Filipino would mean the same, ‘sobrang guapo,’ and in gay lingo means ‘Anderson Cooper’ or ‘very gay.’

What happened next, which I found then to be romantic even serendipitous, was a fire broke out on the ship the day we said our first, ‘I love you!’

Who gets their chance to die at sea while in love? I never thought I’ll find my Jack, and I was ready to die along with the 3,000 passengers and 1,500 crew members, and don’t forget our Italian captain.

Everything for love, right?

But “God himself could not sink this ship.” And the fire was out, and just like that, nobody died. Every American passenger got their fridge magnets in Cabo San Lucas.

As our love blossomed, instead of cutting my contract short I asked the head office for an extension. By the time I finished my first contract, I was nine months at sea, but not pregnant.

Like any ill-fated lovers, soon the head office informed my photo manager that they needed a photographer to take photos of penguins in Antarctica, and only Filipino photographers can get there fast.

It turned out I didn’t need a visa to go to Brazil, which was where the ship was docked before going to Antarctica.

But my boyfriend had other plans. Without asking me, he told the photo manager, who happened to be from the same country as he was, let’s just say South of Africa, not to allow me to leave, because he loved me.

When I learned all of it, the head office had already sent another Filipino photographer, who later on turned his penguin photos into an NFT that sold for 86 ETH.

Of course, like any love story, this one didn't survive. My ex turned out to be into Asian boys, not men. He was Pennywise.

I never had a contract that went to Antarctica or Brazil. I only saw penguins in Happy Feet.

I could have been the photographer who took that penguin photo turned NFT, but instead, I’m here finishing this story with a cup of stale coffee, and sure that this coffee isn't made from Brazilian beans.

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