The C-Word

I have never thought so much about this “C” word until recently when I ended up calling a long time friend for a casual talk. The casual conversation turned very pleasant and cozy when he mentioned about his recent vacation with his longtime partner (5 years now) and I could sense the excitement and josh in his voice. But when I asked about the life beyond vacations there was a pause initially, and then came a stutter and finally boulder came rolling “I don’t know…..” ended with a sigh.

That was the one boulder that started an avalanche of question in my mind. I wasn’t sure if the word was removed from their dictionary or may be I grew up the Victorian way. Commitment to me means being emotionally and physically tethered to the same person irrespective of differences till the existence of the relationship. But for many it was either alien or pre-historic.

Before I say and write more I decided to check if the dictionary still had this word. The word was still in but it sounded so utopian…..

> the act of binding yourself (intellectually or emotionally) to a course of action
> the trait of sincere and steadfast fixity of purpose
> an engagement by contract involving financial obligation

Why do people shy away from it? Does commitment make them more responsible and accountable? Does age become a determining factor for commitment? I had met a dozen of commitment phobics after my previous relationship and not even one was able to give their definition of commitment. A 26 year old who just returned from a longish US stint was one of the prospects interviewed. He was attractive, smart, and very sociable – scored straight A for my next round. But when it came to commitment and long-term plan he was candid. He made a bold statement, “I am too young to think of commitment and I still have fields to explore, wickets to bat and balls to pitch.” I learnt my lesson that day - Casanovas are never committed!

The last time I was in a relationship commitment came out of love, respect, physical and psychological chemistry that we shared. We never spoke about it and it just happened naturally. Coming back to my friend’s case, can’t men have a vacation together without commitment and long term plans? Well they can, but why do responsible adults who’ve been in love for over 5 years turn cold feet when it comes to commitment? May be 5 years was not enough to be sure if this is the right man to be committed to? Does he doubt his choice or the man? Commitment is like Vitamin C, you will need it only when you have a drippy nose and teary eyes. So until you catch cold, you don’t need Vit C.

For some being commitment is like having the same cuisine for dinner for the rest of the life and may be that is why they stay away from boredom. Some are not sure how soon they will outgrow their taste buds and hence commitment makes their knees shaky. As long as people are honest about their taste and likes you can stay away from them, but it hurts only when they dance to your tunes to just entice you for the evening and leave you with a bleeding heart. Commitment is like having garlic and onion and it leaves a bad taste at the end of the meal and then there is always a lot of brushing to do in the end….

Is commitment a sin word? By sin word I don’t mean it is the most hated word by single people, but even couples treat this like an over burdening cross on the back. Brad Pitt could not stay committed to Jennifer Aniston. You can live under the same roof, but commitment is never guaranteed. Do emotionally and psychological stable and secure humans need commitment? The “C” word only seems to electrocute relationships and not electrify.

Are humans (like animals) biologically and psychologically challenged to stay committed? When I think about my earlier relationship everything was just fine and fidel until I measured him on the commitment scale. What followed the measurement was dissolution of wonderful 3 year friendship built on the foundation of TLC. Offering commitment is like giving away a blank check; he can wipe away your account and leave you bankrupt in no time.

Why do people invest time, emotion and much more in relationship and stay vested for a long time just to casually end the conversation with “I don’t know” ….? Well this opens another box of questions - Do all relationships culminate into a commitment? Do committed people have plans? Should commitment be discussed and made contractual? Or should life be simple a fuck and flush? Is commitment today looked upon as a mental disease, and unnecessary emotional clinging?

Should I be dogmatic or pragmatic when it comes to commitment? More importantly I think I should be single, hot and whacky….

I love it……

Treadmills and Doe hunt

30+, single, never married and running on a treadmill like a maniac. Do I sound like an aspiring Olympic athlete or like someone desperately running away from mid-life and mid-riff crises? Is there any difference between desperation and vulnerability?

I was early to gym that Saturday afternoon. Since my exercise routine was a bit monotonous, I was giving my mind a workout. I was thinking about how choosing a treadmill in the gym was sometimes like choosing a urinal in a public loo -- hormonal and exciting. I was looking for a clean spot with the best view. With only a few people there, I didn’t have any difficulty in making the right choice. I settled for a treadmill with a view of the main door and next to a mirror through which I could scope out the rest of the room. I settled into my jog and waited for a handsome payout from my strategic choice.

As I ran along, I thought about how treadmills are similar to the crossroads of life. People on treadmills and people at life’s crossroads have accumulated lots of mileage but still look ahead toward hope and good fortune. Spending time at the crossroads – just as on a treadmill -- is not always fun. If lucky, some discover their futures at the crossroads, while not-so-fortunate ones reflect on their pasts. And, as always at intersections, a few other passersby come into the picture and peering at the mirror can prevent collisions and collusions.

As I finished my first kilometer on my treadmill, I spotted him. A 22-year-old fawn with an athletic build, long legs, just covered with tender cartilage and right amount of fat, a broad forehead, bright smile exposing 32 and an impressive stamina for one so young. I tried to decide if I was running towards a brighter – and slimmer – future or if I was still mired in my past.

Be it on the treadmill or otherwise inclininations and speed changes can turn anyone sweaty, salty and salacious. I caught myself soaked in all three without ever having adjusted a single setting. The hand towel was not enough to cover or wipe away the evidence.

The mirror in front of me turned into binoculars as I scoped out the fawn and noticed that my prey was casting a few furtive glances at me. Thank god the treadmill I was on did not have a hormonal sensor showing my excitement levels.

I flashed a smile or two with no covert intentions. The fawn, arms length away, was struggling to focus on me without being obvious. And the chase was on!

Aren’t we unexposed, raw, and ridiculous just below the surface? I was already sweaty and nervous. His stare at my package and seductive looks were an aggressive move for a fawn as our chase thundered along. When did fawns turn carni-whore? I thought to myself. This was no fawn! This was a 22-year-old buck in full glory.
Suddenly instead of me chasing the fawn, I looked in the mirror and could see the fawn chasing me. Was it for real or lateral inversion from the mirror? Was he chasing love? Or lust? Was I trying to get away or let him catch me? I had only a few seconds to make a decision. Hormones were clouding my judgment and I was feeling short of breath. I was debating if I should ignore my conscience and moral principles and indulge my hormones.

Where was that emergency stop button? I managed to step off the treadmill without hitting the panic button and moved into the locker room. “Do one thing every day that scares you” Eleanor Roosevelt said. But was this young buck scaring me or himself? Should I really conspire with a stranger and satiate the hormonal villain in me? Or should I wage a war to protect my re-virginized self?

This old, shaggy and long-denied "doe" was being teased, taunted and awakened by this magnificent buck. I feigned bravado at his hormonal challenge as I tried to decide whether to pass through this crossroads or engage in the hormonal downpour?

I have been through many crossroads of life, but never in the past have I been a rudderless boat. Finally, I left the gym with my moral compass intact, but nevertheless I was lost. Was it always right and happy to follow the moral compass? Are the ones who throw the compass away lost and unhappy? For now I decided to walk the mill of life rather than worrying about the compass. Treadmills are stationary and unidirectional and don’t need compass.

I had gone to the gym to tackle a mid-riff crisis; I had not expected to meet a mid-life crisis while on the treadmill. Passing by a bakery on the way home, I forewent a glazed donut. Doe’s and Donuts are not scary anymore!

It is a little over 2 months since I met the Doe and neither of us has stopped running our treadmills of life. However transient life and friendships may be, some friendships are born and thrive on the move. Today both of us spend our evenings tackling our mid-riff crisis on the treadmill, not my mid-life one. We discuss the present, we ramble over the hits and misses in Doe’s life and we reminiscent the past without any repent. Isn’t this the best way to tackle mid-life and mid-riff crises?

Prospecting - An art or fart?

Prospecting for a job and prospecting for soul mate, are there any similarities or many similarities? For those of you who swear to be happy in your jobs and relationships, may be you have found the right one, or may you have learnt to change yourself and stay happy and contended or may be you have multiple jobs and relationships for complete satisfaction. Am I being cynical or honest?

For those looking for one keep reading…

Are you wise, smart to jump ships and walk tight ropes when the economy is on a downward spiral and when your cake is filled with more than 30 candles? This very though today left me polarized, sweaty, quizzical and left feverishly looking for an answer.

In the economic parlance such downturn in job market and love market leads to cyclical unemployment and forced separation. Both these terms doesn’t mean the end of life, all it means is that you will have to spend some time on the sideline to re-skill/re-badge and then enter the market with fresh confidence and like never been there before. Isn’t life all about learning and unlearning?

Is it easy to teach the old dog new tricks? If you are young and smart, you are pardoned for your mistakes, but if you are old then there is Senior citizen discrimination and not discount. However young or old, it is difficult and icky. We have no choice but to turn up with an iron chest and fist for these meetings. It is a price we all pay for a job and partner, and there is a secret hope what if the dream materialized this time? Or may be the story gets told better every time?

The first homework one has to do before re-entering the market was to ask oneself if they really needed a relationship/job, and why not I be on their own. It took me 3 years to answer this question, to sort myself, and get ready with my elevator pitch and marketing collaterals. Be it a relationship or job you will have to make you look perfect and best. It is all window dressing!

Well some employers offer your placement services after they let go of you. Would you believe if I told you that my resume was written by my ex? Is this an act of kindness and gratitude? Should I be happy or grumpy?

Though we don’t carry my resume for such interviews, we rehearse the script in my head more than one hundred times a few nights before and spend hours trying to decide what to wear for the interview. In the speech first goes family, education, hobbies, relationship stint with roles, and then we move into the ex-talk, but keeping it polite and not condescending. Sounds ghastly similar, huh? Is it a job interview?

I was not aware that these prospecting meetings can also be filled with lies, surprise, conceit, hypocrisy, blame game, ex-talk etc. more than honesty, ownership, lessons learnt and filter coffee? Interesting….huh? Can the ego ever be cremated? May it can only be tamed.

Well the battle gets tougher when the candles on the cake are directly proportional to the number of Exs. Go through one break-up and try to getting back into one, climbing Mt. Everest would be even easier. You will be surprised at the questions being tossed at you, judging that happens in the name of prospecting will bewilder you. Who takes the ownership of failed and fractured relationships?

Some meetings are easy, they just look for positive attitude and adaptability, and they supplement it with on the job training to make it a win-win. While some get caught up in the past and do a laparoscopy of your life on the internet by turning a simple browser into a camera fitted probe and make you wonder if it the process is prospecting or suspecting.

Some meetings can go in your favor. You get to make a choice, command your price, and put down your terms, but not always. When you get there learn to negotiate so that you don’t undersell. Are jobs and relationships emotional transaction or just plain emotional manipulation or cold and calculative?

The most grueling part of these meetings is the hope with which you get in and how humiliated and desperate you come out when the prospect is not clear what he wants or just says “let us just be friends”. Don’t ask yourself if you are unworthy for the partner role? Just believe that your future partner’s prayers are not potent enough for him to find you. Isn’t it better to be happy from being rejected than being unhappy in a wrong relationship? May be that is the price we all pay a price for being positive and hopeful?

We can come up with myriad excuses and reasons for exiting the relationship, and the clichéd one being “the other person screwed it up”. Everyone knows nobody is perfect, but still expect you to act like one. Who should be blamed for your disappointments – is it the employer/partner or you for your insatiable expectations?

Isn’t there always something better? Should I look around till you find the best or should I grab the first one that come my way or how long do I play this wait and watch game? Until you find the right one, the process is emotionally famishing for the ones who want to be paired up. However calm and composed you act, there is always fear deep within when it comes to choosing between a known devil and an unknown angel. And even after you find one there are questions that you need to answer.

For those of you, who get accepted, there is only more work in maintaining the art. Relationships are no free lunches and there is no guarantee, loyalty and remember relationship can’t turn sour after a few years. All relationships come with contract, some are written and some unwritten. Some get negotiated and re-written, some renewed and some just expire. Also remember contracts have service level agreements, and maintenance fee. Sounds mechanical?
After all this rambling doesn’t it sound easier to change jobs than changing partners? There is no emotional swamp to wade through, and even if there is one, there is no need to prove it by getting physically. Have things changed now?

How does one tide over the crises, and wade through the emotional marsh without feeling trapped, bankrupt, useless, unloved and miserable? Doesn’t it get strenuous and emotionally exhausting that you even entertain the thought of going back to the same employer/partner and asking for another chance? Is the cycle of looking out inevitable? Are we displaying our desperation or vulnerability? How do I insulate myself from the market dynamics, relationship rigmarole and hold on to the wheel of fortune?

Just stay single, self employed and happy!

The Ex-files

Interestingly there are 64 words that start with "ex” among the top 5,000 most commonly used words in English. Where dictionaries can accommodate an “ex”, why can’t we?

Some Ex-es survive the break-up tempest to become friends, while some completely vanish as if into the Bermuda Triangle. Do relationships ever really vanish, though, or do they experience a transmutation?

Why is that we keep looking for Ex-es even after the relationship has disappeared? Is it because Ex-es make us feel guilty for letting go or are we jealous a Harley kind of new boyfriend will replace us? I secretly searched for my Ex on Google, Facebook, Orkut, and Linked in and prayed to run into him on the street corner, at a traffic light, or at the grocery store. But why? For atonement or attainment in the unrealized dream turned nightmare?

After spending 6 months with tissues, issues and searches on the World Wide Web, I finally thought I had climbed out of the emotional dumpster and gotten over the rocky terrain. But the cell phone ring that morning made me fall right back into the dumpster. The call was a familiar voice from the “Don’t call registry”. Obviously the Ex-orcism didn’t work; my Ex was back. Now I felt as if I were being chased and possessed agained.

Sleepless nights and a re-hash of our relationship -- tender moments and haunting memories – followed the phone call. And I bought a few more boxes of tissues to sort out my issues. Was this call an act of kindness or an act of cruelty? Was he back so soon to again teach me more lessons? I badly needed a class on “Ex 101”.

Back at the bottom of the dumpster again, I was swamped by questions weighing on me like a mound of earth over a grave. It’s not that easy to transmute an “ex” into a friend. For that matter, it’s not even easy to move an EX from the (almost) the blocked list back into the “accept incoming call” list. Aren’t rules of engagement different between an Ex and a friend?

Equations change when that someone special gets downgraded to Ex. Families on both sides are instantly forgotten and abandoned; friends are torn apart and left hanging clueless; anniversaries and birthdays are like Friday the 13th; and gifts and pictures are packed in cartoon boxes and labeled with a skull and crossbones and put in the attic.

Are expired relationships dangerous? Should they be quarantined or disposed in outer space? Can they cause an “Ex”plosion if handled carelessly? A friend of mine was outed to his parents by a spiteful Ex, but not all Ex-es are nefarious and vengeful. Some are kind, caring and humble … just not to their Ex-es.

So, there he was. From the phone call I knew he was living my dream happily in the US with a boyfriend and making plans for a union ceremony after eight months of being together. Eight months! Could someone erase my three years of hard work in just eight months? Could I be happy for someone living my dream or was I going to turn green with envy and plot sabotage? Should I extend ex-gratia in the form of kindness, unconditional love, forgiveness, and moral and financial support? I happily mutated into a protector, and took the new avtar as a friend, philosopher and guide – all in one.

Do Ex-es come back looking to pay the accrued interest from our earlier deposits in their emotional bank account? Yes they do!

There I was in the red after a few family emergencies. My cell phone cried out again. Another forgotten ring tone from the Do Not Call Registry. Well, it was my ex-gratia! He was offering me a relief package and rope to climb out of the hole that I was in with a no-interest loan. Maybe we can extract more from an ex as a friend than a partner? I didn’t take up the loan offer, but nevertheless I upgraded him from don’t call registry to occasionally call registry.

Do Ex-es come back to remind us of our past (mistake!) or do they come back to express their regret and rebuild the burnt bridges? I thought this was one question that I would never be able to answer, but then Newton seems to have the perfect explanation for why Ex-es keep coming back into our lives. Matter can neither be created nor destroyed, and it always reappears in another form. I’m just glad my Ex is now a friend.

Journey to the ‘Villes

Life comes with no road maps for love, relationships or sex. Some serious travelers try to follow directions; some carefree souls just drive for the fun of it. Some make the journey interesting by picking up fresh travel companions after dropping off the tired ones. For some, the journey goes seamlessly and they continue with the same travel companions even though the ride is sometimes bumpy and rough.

Looking at my parent's generation I was almost convinced that love, physical intimacy and a relationship were to be found during one trip traveled with one person. Comparing my generation which suffers from one night syndrome (ONS), I questioned if we needed to make this journey to feel complete in life? I was not hopeful to complete this road trip, with its many pit stops through different towns.

'Sexville' is pretty easy to find and reach. Starting out early, I found many people willing to travel with me. Traveling with the same person always seemed too much of a hassle when I was younger. I was not looking for love or a relationship, and my raging youth only believed in physical intimacy.

June 13, 2003 was yet another typical day on my journey. I was confident my travel companion on this day to Sexville would leave after a few milestones, and I that I would pick up a fresh passenger at the next rest area. I had traveled before with the companion and was feeling powerful and wanted. Little did I know I was turning into unexplored territory.

My travel itinerary failed to carry a warning about stopping for repeat passengers. It definitely made no mention of the risks of emotional entanglement and bonding. And, here I was. Traveling like a madman without taking my foot off the gas pedal, flying past the rest area and my companion not getting out as we sailed past Sexville.

This journey took me to a remote place, an oasis of love and relationship which I never planned to visit. At first, I felt trapped, but then I began to enjoy the scenery and thrive in the oasis.

My trip lasted 3 years and was full of discoveries. I realized I had out grown my ONS and had developed a new taste – a taste for love and relationships. I was convinced that love, relationships and physical intimacy did exist, even in my generation of fast food and scratch lotteries. What was happening to me? May be I was discovering the beauty of life like my parents?

My journey, however, took a turn in a completely different direction as I continued to drive along the same route as my travel companion decided to take an airplane to the US. We didn’t realize we were leaving the Oasis. Distance made our hearts grow fonder, but the libido stronger – at least in the U.S. I was at the other end of the spectrum, now believing in monogamy, relationship and love. How retro!

We explored new ways to keep our journey together going. We tried to bring back physical intimacy. Phone and web cam sex to satiate hormonal outbursts were added to our travel kits. Unable to bear the churn of desires, my travel companion began to invite more passengers on the trip. He called it an open relationship. I called it a fork in our journey.

I soon found I was taking the road to Singleville and passing through the Valley of Self Discovery. Maybe love, relationship and intimacy are parts of a perfect road trip that is never forgotten. Do we need to cover all three, though, in one trip? Can't they be separate journeys? Importantly, do we have to cover all the destinations with the same person?

As I left the Valley of Self Discovery and while still continuing on to Singleville, I passed through Marriedville. I picked up my fair share of travel companions – all married -- as I passed through the area fraught with side trips. Married men brought physical release devoid of relationship and love. These side trips were short journeys and emotionally safe for a guy like me. As long as the journey included a bit of protection, my travel companions had no problems in knowing how, where and when to get off.

No one warned me, though, of the cops along this route watching out for speeding cars and negligent drivers. Very soon the blue and red lights went on and I was asked to pull over with one companion from the Marriedville turn off; I was ticketed for negligent driving. I thought this was a scenic route to travel, but didn't realize a sudden unexpected storm could make it ugly. In the rear view mirror as I finally left Marriedville, I could see a wreck of a marriage after an unexpected storm and I could see a companion’s spouse shaking a fist as I drove away. I left instructions for my travel companion on how to reach Splitsville.

Why do journeys end abruptly? May be every beginning has an end and every end has a new beginning? I know that Sexville, Singlesville, Marriedville and Splitsville are not destinations for me, but states that I drive through. I know that journey is not linear and perhaps I will revisit these places in the future. I know next time, though, I will pass through the regions with a heavy chest loaded with guilt and questions. Shouldn’t life be punctuated with road signs pointing to love, relationship and sex?

Games We Play

Games are prevalent in the animal kingdom. Everyone loves to get involved in a little bit of brow-arching, brain-teasing, muscle-flexing fun especially when it all "climaxes" into an equally exciting finale.

Confused? Don't jump off the page yet and don't you reach out to the X on the right most corner of this page… for now just sit back and read….. it will all come together at the end of the game.

Talking about games; we see animals and birds play games all the time. They dancing, singing, turning upside down, spreading feathers, emanating odors, making all sorts of sounds; all of this for that prized "conquering of the concubine". Are these games genetic or generic? Do they play by rules? How is their game different from ours? Are we aware of games we play?

From New York to New Delhi, we are all looking for love and partnership in life. For some sex comes with love and partnership while others consider the three to be mutually exclusive. I decided to break my 2 years of self-imposed exile, away from the territory of love, partnership and sex, after my last long-term relationship. And this time I decided to look for my "rope-climbing-prince-charming" through the virtual window. The online world offered infinite opportunities to meet people without exposing my identity until trust and comfort unveiled the mask. There I was in the online bazaar where love and relationship were being sold like commodities.

Sadly but truly, most gay men have to marry for social reasons. But that didn't prevent them from engaging in casual sex on the side or for that matter a "relationship". Those were games of different kind, it would involve meeting, sex, love, confessions (not necessarily in that order) and then playing along till the truth would be out in the open, breaking a house, a heart or two. I was aware of those kinds of games and cautiously stayed away from them.

I had my choice of game with the rules and game plan clearly laid out. My online profile was neat, sorted and candid, alteast I thought so. "Here I am 32, single, professionally successful, and pausing my life (is it re-virginization?), LOL! Do men ever pause? I feel funny, stupid and surprised about my life. The 20s was action packed, 26 got me a boy friend and 30 made me single again. Bad luck! Is it recession from now on? You know how lonely it feels at the crossroads, any takers or walkers? Stalkers stay away!!"

There were many takers for this profile, but the tough part was finding someone who would agree to play the game. There were points to be earned and rules to be followed – my rules. There were only two simple rules - No measuring the meat till friendship matures into relationship and only single men with belief in monogamy and relationship can play.

I started the screening process through phone calls and coffee meets. One after another I kept meeting people. They came in all shapes and sizes with varying levels of libido and maturity and after the initial screenings only a few remained on the sieve because not all of them spoke the truth online or on the phone. In the end I realized that there was another game being played at the side, the one between me and the coffee shop owner and he was winning all the money – ALL THIS WHILE.

Searching for relationship and love is like looking for water in a desert, there is always a mirage to look forward to. The walk can be protracted, dry and tiresome, but then when you find one the journey becomes meaningful and the hardships turn into bed of roses. So, in quest of my knight in shining armor, I continued to play.

Like every other game, this game had its audiences too. Cheering, jeering, hooting – my audience were my close friends, who kept me going. Encouraging, pushing, sometimes even threatening me to not give up my friends, who were seasoned players, made sure that I didn’t leave the arena. Stamina building exercises – they called it. I was optimistic and I wanted to succeed and at the same time I didn't want to hurt or get hurt and so I decided to go slow.

My glib talk (read harmless flirting) and marketing collaterals (read interesting profile pictures) sometimes invited wrong audience – either married men or harried men. May be I was sending wrong messages? Mr. Penguin was one of the few men who managed to get filtered through my coffee meets. Hovering around 27 - the ideal marriageable age for a typical Indian stereotype, he was going through the inevitable ritual of bride selection. The whole idea was to get married, make his mother happy and continue with the “games” on the side. So there he was, out in the market masquerading his gayness as his mother window-shopped for a bride.

Having slept-around with random men in my past, my closet was full of soiled and torn jerseys from the games that I had lost. I could maintain a few old ones in my closet with a dry wash, but most were beyond repair. Penguin was smart, a little plump with a sad look in his eyes. He was fun to be with and soon we became good friends. By now the rules were set, he was to get married and we were just friends. I realized that this game was too complex for me and so I decided to be a fence-sitter instead of playing along.

We often met for coffee chat, a few nights we drove around the city, a few nights we spent in his room drowning in music and sharing each others life experiences. That was more interesting and energetic than caffeine joints. I cautiously managed the game and never let it cross the boundary of friendship. Taking a shot from the penalty corner meant losing the game.

I felt I was progressing well in this game of walking the tight rope between being friends and being “buddies”. And just when I thought that managing relationships was my cup of tea, I realized that storms can brew in tea cups too. I was afraid of loosing friendships and I kept playing the game out of compassion in-spite of his increasingly demanding ways.

Before I realized, he had stalled his marriage plans. He slowly turned possessive and wanted to know my co-ordinates every minute. Flipping through my phone book contacts, reading my SMSes while I wasn’t around and walking out of the movie hall in the middle of the movie because I spent a few extra minutes with acquaintances. Thorough possessiveness over nothing. I was distraught with his juvenile behavior.

I realized he belonged to the sub-junior category and he need more hours in the field to graduate to the next level of professionalism. But the game and rules always remained same for both categories. That was that, I could see myself falling-off the tight rope, and decided to call it quits. The game was over.

We all chose to see what we want to see and conveniently ignore other things. Call it our blind spot? He was playing in my blind spot for a while, until I realized that there was no breathing space and my individual identity was disappearing. I ignored the storms in the beginning, but if I had paid more attention to it I could have called off the game sighting inclement weather. I was depressed after this one also entered my closet of soiled relationship.

We live in an age of 20/20 and test matches are already history. The players are expected to recover faster after injuries, get refreshed for tournaments in short breaks and play shorter and high-intensity innings. I kept dribbling hope but with cautious optimism. And this time I decided to change the venue to Mumbai, a progressive city with sorted sapiens. Missed opportunity was as expensive and sometimes more expensive than a used opportunity. I didn't want to miss any opportunity to “play”.

So the venues were booked, the rules set and the spectators I am glad were left uninformed. I was to meet two different guys in Mumbai’s, both of whom were aware of my other meeting.
The first one belonged to the Bonobo society, his actions were loud and clear and all it said was "let us make love and not friendship". I had no option other than giving him a red card and getting him off the field. Our rules of engagement were different and the match was called off. Very soon the community newspaper carried a front page article on this “miss-match” and painted it with malice and ill-will. May be that was the progressive culture of Mumbai?

Having lost the first game, I parted ways with civility. I was eagerly looking forward to the second match with enthusiasm and caution. I decided to play this game analytically and logically and not emotionally. I loosened up the rules of the game and let some fore-play before the match with the hope that it would ignite more passion.

He was in the midst of making a career move and relationship was not on his priority list. He liked me but wanted to play this game later and held me in abeyance. I didn’t want to be used like a “Joker” in the pack of cards. The probability of playing was less than 50/50. Some games just end with net practice, some games turn out to be friendly for exploration. I didn't lose the match, but I didn't win either – can I call it inconclusive?

Life is not about winning the game, but just sustaining till the end. Some games are good in short format and some are good in long format, but each game has it exciting moments. Importantly audiences, referees and coaches are always a part of the game and they keep the players motivated. Senior and seasoned players know tricks to win the game, some cooperate and play the game, some convince and play the game and some deceive and play the game. It's one of those basic games that structures life. Should I get back to the field or wilderness?

Power Sex

Sex is the most powerful weapon God ever gave mankind. For ages, men and women alike have used sex ambitiously. While animals use it merely for procreation, the contorted human mind has used sex to command power and even dictate terms – bare handed and bare bodied. It doesn’t matter if you are rich or poor, single or married, divorced or even widowed; if you know how to use your sexual prowess you can probably have it all. And those who have experienced the powerful, victorious almost delirious ecstasy of “conquering the concubine” in the other person would agree that sex without power is a waste.

It’s POWER SEX all the way. Did I hear, Grrrrrr? Some might cry foul over the guilt that comes with it, the moral compass misleading us when it comes to power sex and makes one cringe in guilt and shame. But not me, I always felt venerated and vindicated after “Power Sex”. To find a place in the hall of fame one needs to throw away the moral compass and along with it, the feelings of guilt, shame and irresponsibility. Power Sex, like power yoga and power nap, is short, action packed and with a high rate of return.

Clutch him in your arms, seduce him with a smile, satisfy him and take complete ownership of him. Make him lust for you do not lust after, let him expect but never fulfill, drop hints when you hiss in his ears. Be cautious, tread carefully and walk away with a smirk of arrogance, feel of vindication, make him feel like a pauper and don’t wear him as a badge of honor.

Is there a right age to get into such sexual trading? Just like gender, economic and availability status, age too has nothing to do with such power play. You have to play it right. I played mine for the first time during my first year in college, yes, when my friends were just discovering the joys of…..well “self-gratification….I had already started trading. Or should we call it power brokerage? Blasphemy?

He wasn’t tall, he was dark and nowhere close to handsome. I wasn’t attracted to him, but there was something that I wanted to prove. To myself, to him, I wanted to show him the power of my hormones. He was divorced, vulnerable and it didn’t take much to ignite passion in him. One golden rain in the desert was enough to get grass back to life. Feigning a look of helplessness and loneliness on campus, I was able to get an easy invite to my professor’s home. The next steps were easy, process driven and from my left brain. The energizer bunny in me raced him into deep woods and man did we “play”.

When we got back from the woods the power equation had shifted. His eyes had lost the glitter of supremacy that superiors usually command, I could see them filled with lust and guilt. I am not sure, if he was he frightened, ashamed or shy but things were not the same anymore. Not for him.

A single moment of physical intimacy was enough to dethrone his ego from the pedestal, the gap of superiority had vanished and suddenly, we were equals.

Discovery doesn’t happen until you are lost….. lost in power or lost in LUST.

It is power sex that gets you to places where your economic background, race, color, designation experience, and education disqualifies you. In the darkness of lust, you can have your arms wrapped around people who might refuse to respect you, or meet with you or even dine with you. Subscribe to power sex and you will find yourself “Eating Out”.

Power sex doesn’t mean you are a slut, it just means that you are good at recognizing opportunities and you are good at trading. You know your returns well and invest accordingly. You are just a trader, albeit of a different kind. But the rules remain unaltered. The same principles of economics and trade hold good. There is no gain without volatility and to reap profits you must know when to enter and when to exit. Buy low and sell high. Move your pawns and paws with a plan and sometimes it is good to hide and strategize before you prey.

Rules of Engagement:

1. Never invest over and over again in the same company. Read: Beware of multiple mutual explorations with the same man.
2. If the stock looks sticky get rid of it. Douse him away like a cigarette butt and leave no room for ignition.
3. Try and stay risk-free. Have an escape route. A relationship escape route.

How many power shift stories have we read and heard about from the days of Magdalene to Madonna? The “fluid” power has written and re-written the annals of history and shifted the power equation. How many saints and catholic priests have been living sluts in whites and saffron robes?

Sex has the power to soil reputation, and respect of any towering personality. When used prudently it gets you to the White House without having to go through the Electoral College like Marilyn Monroe and when used wrongly it has made Presidents pawn their respect, Republicans resign in embarrassment and Senators cripple in pain.

Try this game of ‘Power Sex’ once and I bet you will be addicted to it. But learn to play it well. Before you engage in the act next time think if you want to be the real winner, think about the opportunity cost. Let go, charity sex. Let’s make some profit.

Let’s get POWERFUL.

Tensed about tense?

Is it worthy to talk about past? However painful, long drawn and overbearing like the morning commute in Bangalore, but when handled with patience past brings its share of smiles, tears, wisdom and lessons. Past has taught me the difference between love and lust, and how to stare back at love and lust at every crossroads in life. Importantly it has also taught me how to love unconditionally, how to surrender to universe without the feeling to loss, how to recover without pain, and much more. Every time I surrendered to the Universe, it gave me a better one the next time, but not necessarily a longer one.

If you are single, my life is an episode just like yours, come back often and share.
If you are married then it is like a movie of your past, but you can still come back for a quickie.
If your grandkids are running like cockroaches at home, then this is a re-run of your sunrise days in the afternoon.

All you folks catch up with what you've missed and what you are missing!! Being single is powerful and fabulous.

When future is not visible and present is uninteresting all that I have is my past to share with you. But nevertheless when present gets interesting the past will be on pause (men-o-pause). You can be my future, but nevertheless it doesnt hurt know my past and present.

Men may come and Men may go

But I go on forever....