Labor of love!

This will be my last blog for the year and I am ending on a note of contemplation and introspection and definitely not on a note of ridicule. I will come back next year with more fodder for thought and with tales from my travel to Turkey. Hamams and Turkish delights will be served. Yum! Yum!

For now, just come with me on the pride journey that happened in my city, earlier this year.
It was one of those warm days with bearable humidity. Chennai gets many of those days in a year, but today was special and different. To some it was an extra humid day and to some extra cool. The walk on the shores of Marina was symbolically started from “Labor statue”. Labor of love!

Let me belabor…

Public may refer to us as “dykes” and “queer” and label our choice as biologically deviant, but there we march with pride and in solidarity to recolor prejudice and malice with rainbow shades. You can call this a walk of awareness, a walk of camaraderie, a walk to end bigotry, and bottom line a walk to make people think (walkers and watchers).

I never dreamed of this walk to happen in my life time in a city labeled as complex and conservative. Is it difficult to walk among a bunch of homosexuals without being peered, hit and scratched? All said and done…It is definitely one of those days to be inked in the annals of Chennai’s history. A bookmark in the pages of the city!

The pride peacocks assembled behind the labor statue well before time. Some exchanged looks, some shook hands, some diligently exchanged members for later hook up, but before the media vultures arrived they hid their faces behind the Venetian masks, big sun goggles, and covered their flora from the June skies.

Wiping the trickling sweat beads, adjusting their mask, and holding to the placards they passionately marched yelling their memorized slogans. Some afraid of media attention stayed away from holding a placard and they silently marched looking at the world through those small holes in the masks.

A few owners walked their heterosexual pets and I found some without owners (stray) walking the march. Do dogs have a choice? Those bitches were fag hags!

Some of those who marched the pride had nothing to do with the gay community. They were straight as arrow and came to support their friends. Do they even understand what it is to be gay? Or was it a photo opportunity and free publicity?

I have had incidents where some of my straight friends whom I came out to became uncomfortable when I put my hands around them. These guys couldn’t differentiate between touch of friend from touch of lust. Their misgivings are understandable, but how I do make them feel comfortable?

As it gathered mass and momentum I migrated from the sidelines of the march and moved to the center of the march.

I turned around and realized that I was surrounded by homosexuals, many of them were strangers. The smell of testosterone was overpowering. I paused and looked at my community the purpose of the march.

For some this was another opportunity to swap numbers, exchange looks, and write an open invitation to bed. Then there were a few who stayed in the sidelines of the march and their sexuality. They came to check out and possibly ogle and take home one or two from the crowd.
The march slowed at time, had its moments of silence, suddenly there was cheer and it moved swiftly towards the destination.

Some among the community wore sexuality on their sleeve and walked around as through it is their only identity to manhood and ticket to salvation. In the gay world honesty is scare and promiscuity is an epidemic.

Many of us walked around with broken hearts, many of us were cheated, many of us were dumped, and many of us were used like surgical cotton. Many at times the straight world was less threatening and treacherous than the gay world. We extricated ourselves from the web of gossip and treachery, temporarily fled the island of loneliness, and marched with pain, bitterness and issues of trust. Yet we walked bravely to reform the society wearing the badges of dishonor and carrying baggages of deceit, depression and disappointment. The fire of truth and transparency was long extinguished and the torch of infidelity and dishonesty was held high. Isn’t it time for self reformation?

It may be okay and accepted to do such marches in the West, but East is not yet there. We lack basic hygiene to deal with homosexuality. Do we have counseling facilities for homosexuals, their immediate family and friends? Is there someone out there who can teach us how to live with dignity, responsibility of a relationship, pride without prowling, promiscuity and preying? Don’t we have to be educated with the rules of relationship, hygiene in physical intimacy, safety of safe sex and importantly learn not to treat humans as sex toys.

As the march reached the final destination “Light house” the crowd dispersed – some dispersed with euphoria to attend the evening party and some returned home with melancholy.
Sadly no one seems to have realized that there is a long list of things to be done within the community, but we’ve already out on a march to reform the society. Another pride march ended without a purpose.

Tell me how many gay relationships have lasted fora life time? Even before the tear of disappointment from the previous relationship dries we are ready to date the next. With low threshold to boredom, patience and maintain relationship what respect are we really expecting from the society?

That night Chennai march was nationally telecasted. Orthodox, cocoon, caterpillar image of Chennai was repainted. Next morning front pages in most newspapers carried images from the pride walk with words and voices from the faces behind the masks. Homosexual men trapped in marriages made sure their wives were not around while they enjoyed very word and picture in the newspaper.

In the vortex of Sexuality 20s or 40s?

What about 40's and what about men in 40's? Is 40 a biological barrier or a psychological barrier? Should I treat these as independent questions or should I treat them together? Does it matter? Anyways both questions seem to be juicy, spicy, hot, sticky, cerebral and with lot of mileage for redemption and exploration.
Confessions first….

My earlier encounters with men in their 40’s were intriguingly interesting. Intrigued because, they seem to carry the love, passion and spark that ignited my dampened and withered soul. Interesting because, all of this came without any commitment or shelf life. Was it just an attraction/infactuation from my end? Or was it mutual? Every relationship however long and momentary is for mutual gain. Let us park this question for now and rewind my tapes from my teenage and tormenting twenties to analyze and understand mutual needs and the need for intellectual arousal.

All said and some never done, I found men in 40’s extremely warm, caring, strong and living from the heart. I felt they had reached the stage of maturity and seasoning in life, and was sure they would take care of me and never hurt me. But then I was in my late teens and it was too early for me to walk into their shoes and understand what they were looking for in me.

Grey and bald in worldly parlance meant thinkers and intellectuals with oozing wisdom who've weathered the storms of life. Wow…sound so hot material and mentally stimulating…huh? Yes, I did chase them because I wanted to share feelings of my sexuality and have them for mentors and look up to them for support, guidance and comfort in life. This was something that I could never get at home with my undecided, and confusing, undefined and contorted sexuality.

You can label men in 40’s as my “festish” but in reality I needed validation; I needed someone to comfort me and someone to teach me how to live with my biological inadequacies, teach me sexual proclivities of life.

Was I caught in the vortex of sexuality, delusion, desire, or curiosity or all of the above? I was truly a science student, experimenting with men and my sexuality. Sigmund Freud was not around, if he would have been around, he would have “theorized” my experimentation and coordinated my vertex of sexuality.

Curiosity always remained the denominator of our life. I wanted to understand the psychology of men in 40’s.What do men in 40’s want? What is their expedition all about? Are they vanquishing their suppressed emotions? Is it their 2nd adolescence? Is it onset of andropause? I had so many questions to answer and find answers.

I hunted down those men in grey, those with receding hairline and those who fathered a few kids. What a combination, huh? What a choice of menu! Raging hormones was waging a war inside me. I felt even more attracted when I heard them talk about their wife and children. This is because, I always longed to have a family of my own and I wanted a man who would take care of me like his own family. I wanted my men and I wanted the warmth of a relationship and kids. Honestly, someone was living my life and dream. I wanted to enjoy be with someone who was living my dream. It is natural to feel jealous, but I just wanted to be a part of that life and dream. I wanted to know how easy it was to be gay, married and with kids? I also wanted to know how men in 40’s think. How to be free from guilt and yet happy? How to keep everyone (wife, society, in-laws and parents) happy in the marriage?

Life has both reasons and seasons! Twenty years later as I approach my cliff of my 30s I am just like those men who I chased – that holds good only with respect to my physical landscape. I was still single, I didn’t have kids, and I was not in a marriage cocooned by the society. Today my geography is identical to theirs, I am bald and my beard is almost grey but my libido has calmed down. Those grey ones were interesting to observe from my side of the shore.

Mallik, married father of two, grey hair not bald, biked into my life after an infatuation bid at the traffic light. His eyes were telegraphing untold stories, his heart was idling faster than his bike engine and his tongue kept pushing those words down back into his gullet. The light turned green and chaos soon returned on the streets. At this stage of life I was not looking for any support, any clarity, any buoy to get me ashore, but still curiousity made me look through the torn plastic in the rear window. He was following me like a maniac, swerving and jumping red lights. That was the power of the hidden desires and propulsion by hormones. He was 2 meters away from me, but there was a lot of hesitation to speak to me I got down at my destination. I went up to him and asked him what he wanted, well I didn't want to assume anything. The cliched pick-up line "Do I know you from somewhere" (more than a pick-up line it is a line of confession that I am gay) was reeled at me. I smiled, acknowledged and understood the urgency to end his hesitation and invited him to know me over a cup of arabic wine. A few gulps brought out his hidden desires, and the verb appeared to be a noun on the surface. He was stuck in the same vortex of sexuality that I was stuck many years ago.

With 2 kids and a lovely family, he wanted to explore this side of his life that he has ignored for years. 15 years ago coming out was not an option, and marriage was an indelible part of gay men life. But today world wears sexuality on their sleeve. Bollywood movies rant about sexuality, article 377 gets front page coverage in national newspapers and pride marches have becomes a part of every metro culture, Mallik wanted to come out of the self imposed exile. He felt more confident to talk about his desires and he could find more people accepting and understanding. How long can someone hold their soul secrets, guilt, and repressed emotions? His needs were both psychological and psychobiological. What a reversal of role! The 40+ man wanted to catch up with his un-entertained 20s.

Is 40 the new revelation point in a man's life? Does it take him on an inward journey to discovery, enjoy and empty his desires and guilt? Does it give them time, confidence, and courage to hear murmurs of their heart?

Some men accept their suppressed sexuality, some think of it as a fashion statement, while some men blamed their newfound preference on their spice less marriage. Niranjan, a businessman in his 40's, bald and grey, with 2 kids, blame his insipid marriage, and difficult wife for his exploring alternate sexuality. At a common gathering Niranjan came strongly and fiercely at me. Niranajan wanted someone with whom he could share, discuss, confess and engage his dreams and desires. In short a verb cum noun version of mate!

When I rewinded his tape of youth, he confessed his liking for men, but he said he could never muster up courage to stay single or go against his family wish to get married and fell a prey to social mores and quotient guilt. Niranjan is one among many caught in the boundaries of society, self imposed duties towards parents and guilt from surreptitiously engaging in his manly desires. Life in the animal kingdom seemed easy, since there were no moral rules to comply with and copulation was just for procreation. But human world driven by greed, need and want, lust and desires, came with moral rules, frameworks governed by the society. The moral rules of sexuality and morality seemed thin, yet powerful and emotionally/mentally draining.

I still feel 40+ men are perfect husband material in many ways. They were busy making money, paying EMIs, responsibly attending to the needs of their demanding marriage (kids and partner), but they had little time to pause, reflect and recollect. Even if they paused there was nothing much they could do because the vortex of society was powerful to escape. When I paused them they confessed their loneliness, disconnect and sadness. I have noticed that some are interested in connecting at cerebral level, while some are only interested in physical emoluments from the relationship. In general both categories are clear what they want.

Should we blame his repressed emotions or sparking marriage? Niranjan is depressed, and often battling such strong self consuming emotions. His repressed desire was eating his peace more than the guilt after feeding. Many at times we discussed about bottled up sexuality, confused identity, raunchy encounters, and finally garnished our conversation with philosophy of life with the 40s club. He says he finds peace in my company and in our conversation.

My earlier men in 40's were interesting, strong, focussed, but now my men in 40's seem stressed out, smoldering but nevertheless chivalrous. 40s had nothing to do with neither psychological nor biological barrier. It seemed like they wanted to entertain their suppressed desires. There was a time when I wanted their family life, and now they were willing to trade their family life for my singlehood on the peripheries of society.

The vortex of life and sexuality seemed powerful at 20s and 40s.

Flower power

We are colleagues and we’ve known each other for just over 2 months and she waited for the moon to come up and then invited me to the terrace. By then most of the office was empty. Her long hair was touching the parapet wall and I was imaging a Cleopatra on the balcony. I didn’t know what to expect but it felt like walking into the doctor’s room to discuss my blood sample result. I’m not sure what followed was an information, proposition or a confession or all of the above? She said she was not looking at me as just another colleague and she had a “thing” for me. The very moment I heard this I lost my hearing and my heart was in my mouth. I felt dizzy and moved away from the parapet wall.

I looked into her eyes and the storm was brewing. She broke down and summarized her 5 year old married life in just three words “on the rocks”. I was not sure if all this was true but felt like in a state of inebriety. Inebriety from the flower power?
Truly looking back at my interactions with her, there was no flirtation, no sexual overtones and no everything that straight men do to attract women. We discuss blogs, books, movies, music and at time scamper on office gossip. Does all this make me and other gay men attractive cand(y)dates?

She is the fifth friend and the second of married women who have openly expressed their attraction for me. Both of them had a not so good marriage. What is with gay men and women in a bad marriage? Why is it these women still get attracted to men after their bad experiences? Do we share the same complains about men? Does misery loves company?

The first time a married colleague approached expressing her feelings for me I was shocked and labeled her a “strumpet”. But after few experiences I could relate to their desperation for good and light hearted men. Over the years I’ve found that we are running the same race; we are chasing the same men, the men who are ruthless, heartless and animal. Am I sounding like Desperate housewives?

It is just not married women who’ve approached even unwed women find me attractive. Am I adonis? Am I “chick magnet”? Am I loaded with cash? I am just an ordinary looking guy, will just normal IQ laced with arrogance and still these women are drawn towards me? Is it just me or is it the flower power of gay men? I have done a lot of activities with my unwed women friends who’ve proposed to me. We’ve watched chick flicks together, we enjoy the similar kind of sitcoms ( SATC, Desp Housewives), we enjoy pastel colors, craft work, enjoy cooking, cleaning iced bitching.

I may have disappointed half a dozen women who’ve proposed to me, but I have never used and abused them. I felt like holding her hand, giving her a warm hug and assuring her of my friendship for life. May be I could confess to her my side of the story and forge a bilateral fag hag alliance. May be I could share with her my heartbreak stories, one night stands, and tales from the treacherous gay world. I was afraid of her reaction and I didn’t want my sexuality to curdle our professional relationship.

I have known a few friends who’ve come out to their women friends and colleagues. And they swear it was the easy and women were more accepting and understanding than their men. Is it because our hormones are not overpowering, drowning and coming across strongly? We don’t come across as those powerful men who go around them like a merry go round and vanish after the ride. All said and done, we are gentle and genteel. BTW, isn’ that flower power?

Sexploration

Atleast most gay men that I know are highly creative, extremely talented, and with a sharp sense of focus to excel, but for these folks relationships are like walking on egg shells. Sounds like Asperger’s syndrome, huh? People with Asperger’s may have superior intelligence and verbal skills, and they often have an obsessive interest in a particular topic. May be “Sex”? But they tend to be self-defeatingly awkward in social situations, and romantic relationships can leave them at sea. This leaves me thinking…Are gay men romantically challenged? Is romantically challenged a neurological disorder? Is it a life about a disability for gay men? Wow!

Under the pretext of friendship they usually end up crossing territories, get entangled in the web of relationship, mangling relationships and finally end up hurting each other and burning bridges beyond repair and salvage. And by the time they hit their 30s there is only fear and cynicism, and there is one friend “loneliness” along with dregs of rejections, insecurity and failed relationships. How many relationships hoops have you passed through? How many bridges of friendships have you burnt? Sounds you like? or many others that you know in our community? If you were given another chance, would you do things differently this time?

Sometimes I wonder why gay men mix sex and friendship. Though it appears like milk and coffee, but in reality it is milk and salt. A 10 year long friendship carefully handpicked and nurtured turned sour when my friend trespassed and sexplored. What does exploration of the body do to friendship? Does it build a sense of commitment and ownership? Why do most friendships see the grave after exploration? Does familiarity breed contempt?

A few months of exploration took them into unchartered territories without any rules of engagement. The relationship reached a point of comfort that his friend started to leave his tooth brush, personal grooming products and under garments at my friends place. My friends had no clue where this relationship was headed. Nothing was planned this way, but now my friend was confronted with a riddle to solve. My friend was ready to graduate this to LTR (a committed relationship with a time stamp that neither party knows when it endsJ). When he asked his friend if they could take this relationship to the next level, there was strong resistance and extended silence. It was clear that he was not ready for any relationship and all these weekend stays was just casual sex for fun and nothing more. Leaving behind toiletries was more of comfort than for anything concrete and committed. Well who would not enjoy any strings attached, and who would turn down friends with benefits?

My friend says things were not same anymore. The emotional bonding, mental chemistry, trust, and comfort all went out window and brought in the bad air of obsession, possessiveness, distrust and complexity. A calm sea turn suddenly turned choppy and frothy. The shortest distance between two friends that was once straight was now mangled and entangled in the web of emotions.

Some explore others mind with their body, while some explore others body with their mind. The mind and body combination seems deadly enough to curdle relationships. Can’t two gay men have a platonic relationship? Can’t they have a friendship without sexploration? Why should they look at each other as objects of enjoyment? Should they have to get physically intimate to sow the seed of friendship?

My friend’s close pal moved back from US to Chennai and my friend wanted me to meet up with him casually. Sometimes I wonder if friends experiment by keeping cotton and fire together. I met the guy at a neutral venue for coffee and the conversation went really well. There was nothing odd, suspicious or salacious. He seemed decent, sorted and knew his boundaries. Over the next week there was a flurry of emails and SMS from him and finally came an invite to visit his place. In the past I have met gay men who don’t want to get to know you and will instantly shut down the chat window they see your picture.

The conversation that started straight and normal soon turned awkward and meaty. The extra long passes and flattering comments of my forearms and triceps made me wiggle in my chair. Now I was wary of his intentions. Was he expecting a “Welcome Home fuck?”

The next was really predictable. Want to take a guess? He wanted to check out if I had a six pack and if I gave him some space he wanted to go below the belt. I was being poked at like the bakra hanging upside in a meat stall. I knew where this engagement was headed and quickly reached for the door. The farm land was ploughed but no seed of friendship was sown. Is prowling and preying a part of the friendship game?

Some reactions are just irreversible and the journey takes you to Bermuda triangle. In the following weeks like the farmers of Vidharba I waited looking at my mobile and mail box. I tried to reach out to him, but I don’t know if he was guilty or hurt, but the friendship never blossomed. Now I was punished for not sailing beyond the boundaries.

In the first case the friendship was lost because of exploration and in the next one the seed of friendship never sprouted because there was no mining below the belt. And often I have heard cases where friendships are born out of exploration and continue to stay pink and gay. Nobody seems to know where and when to explore beyond the boundaries of friendship. What do they want from a relationship? Where to exercise caution? What are the rules of engagement? What are the repercussions of trespassing? Are we unfaithful as friends? Are we romantically challenged? Are we meat eaters or addicts?

Often gay men don’t share great relationship with their fathers, brothers and even sometimes with their straight friends because of their orientation and the only fallback are “friends”. And friends go beyond family, and they are often most trusted companions when it comes to confiding their fears and secrets, sound board when it comes opening their heart and mind and finally an emotional sponge when it comes to comforting the broken heart. And surprisingly 99 out of 100 times gay men are hurt by their own community than straight counterparts.

So next time before you Sexplore think… Is it difficult to be simple and straight? Don’t let lust kill love and friendship.

17 Again

I was mildly surprised and rudely shocked when I went to watch the movie “17 Again”. Why surprised and shocked? Hmm…

For those of you who’ve not seen the movie, it is about a guy ignoring his dreams, failing to listen to his inner voice, walking over his talents. He chooses a girl and forgoes his basketball and college scholarship. It takes a marriage, 2 kids and 20 years of family life for him to finally hear the inner voice. And today he feels so trapped in life. Call it the vicissitudes of life or fate, but this is perfect entrapment most of us get into. All through his marriage he blames his wife for his failures and none of the project that he undertakes sees the light of the day and now
suddenly reviews his life at the brink of divorce. Can I get my life back? Can I get another chance to redo my life? Can I be 17 again?

This left me thinking…How many of us feel this way? How many of us decide to go behind our dreams? How many of us realize our inherent gifts and talents and capitalize on it? Some of us feel it is right and just to thrust our dreams on our kids? Did we have a choice over what we wanted to study? Did we have a choice over going overseas for education? Did we have
a choice when it comes to a job? We end up taking up a job because of the opportunity cost and bills payable. We decide to settle in for bills than dreams.

While I was trying to catch a glimpse of drama on the screen there was another drama that was unfolding in front of me. A sixty plus man, with all qualifications for a sixty year old – bald, grey hair, a bulging waistline and an arched spine walked in with a 20 year old kid with jelled hair,
tight shirt exhibiting those rippling gym trained muscles, low waist jeans held tightly by a canvas belt and his hands around the shoulder elderly gentleman. And during the break I saw the old man all over the fawn, holding him by his shoulders and coaxing him to have popcorn and coke.
Wow!

I don’t know how many in the movie hall caught a glimpse of them and felt that way, but I felt something sharply contrasting in this duo. Why should a twenty year wrap his hands around a sixty year old? Could they be father and son? Could they be grandfather and grandson? Or a simple sugary relationship? Or could it be any other relationship beyond the traditional
framework? May be it is a new kind of relationship in the make and yet to be defined by the society?

I was reminded of storyline “Memoirs of Melancholy Whores” by Gabriel Garcia Marquis and K. Balachander’s movie where the hero in falls in love with a man twice her age. I realized such stories are not fictional anymore.

Were they caught in a turbulence of lust or love? But it didn’t seem to matter to them and it was none of my business to analyze and judge. The old man was definitely trying to catch up with the life that he failed to live, explore and satiate. And may be the young one was getting love and more that he is missing in life. They walked out of the movie holding each other hands, may be inspired by the movie? The sixty plus was definitely17 Again!

Do I know you from somewhere?

When one stranger asks you “Do I know you from somewhere?” it is okay, but what if multiple people ask you the same question in one week. I know I am not a celebrity, nor am I a socialite/page3 figure in the city. But have I met these people somewhere or sometime? Or do I have something in common with these people? It is him or his penis that made me ask the question? Hmm….interesting thought…

The first time the line got hurled at me when I was walking out of a movie hall. The guy was tall, handsome and was starring at my while I was in the queue to exit the movie hall. I was waiting outside the movie hall for my friends and this guy charges towards me, ignored my friends and instantly puts his handout and stuns me with the line. My friends were around and I couldn’t do much other than say “I don’t think so”. But then he didn’t seem convinced with my answer, and then came the next one “You seem familiar”. Now I was kind of embarrassed and didn’t know how to handle this situation. Does it mean that he doesn’t know and he wants my number and wants to know me better? He he he…. My friends were helplessly looking at the volley of questions and replies flying between us. I didn’t know he was a male model who posed for the recently released male bikini calendar. I could hear some of them go “he is the November guy” and I had no clue that this guy was trying the clichéd pick line on me. After so many questions I wanted to atleast introduce myself before I left. But then he wanted to know how I spent my weekends. Wow….that was too early to go to my weekends and my free time. With just a smile and handshake I left the venue.

The same week I am on the last train to Bangalore. I reached 20 mins before the departure and before boarding the coach I checked out my co-passengers in the list outside the boggie. It was all youngsters and I didn’t have to worry about obliging and swapping my middle berths with elders. The air conditioned I found place for my baggage, pulled out “Love, Eat, Pray” and settled myself comfortably in my seat. I lent my book the guy besides me who was trying all possible angles to catch a glimpse of my book cover. Every now and then I peeped at the door at the end of the doorway impatiently waiting for the ticket examiner. There were two guys to my left occupying the side lower and upper berths and one of them was lost in the music playing in his ipod while I settled for the book. I walked out to get a bottle of water and when I boarded the boggie I saw the ipod guy near the doorway and he asked me the same question again. I was shy and didn’t know how to respond, I didn’t introduce myself or shake my hands, but still gave my canned reply. I could have stopped there and extended the conversations with a few more questions like where do you live, where do you work? But these questions have just one underlying intent – I like you. But looking at my physique he didn’t pursue any further. He went back and settled in his berth and that was the end of it. May be he genuinely meant it and he was not trying a pick-up line.

“Do I know you from somewhere” is one of the most common, cheesiest and direct pick-up line. Some feel it is an innocuous question, agreed, and it is better than asking someone for time or starring incessantly. It doesn't say if you want to know a person or you want to enjoy the person. I would rather appreciate when people directly ask me out of coffee or tell me they want to know about me than try these deviant pick-up lines. But someone can be genuinely can be mistaken to belong to the pride. I agree sometimes you can’t judge a person’s sexuality and you need to use such questions to hint the other person about your orientation and subtly let him know you like him or like to know more about him. But still can’t we try something better? Or next time when someone tries that line on me should I tell them I am taken?

Shift+Delete

What happens to you when you’re gay friend decides to get married to a woman? Does he continue to be your friend? Do you continue to be his friend? How do you re-define the friendship space?

More than a year ago I received an email from a FWB. I was rudely surprised when I got an email from him with the subject “Wedding Invitation”. Whenever we discussed topics like our future, male partners, loneliness, old age, and marriage, he was so sure he would never get married for convenience, for society or for his parents. And now there was a wedding invite from him. I didn’t take it seriously and thought it could be an invite for his brother’s wedding. Could it be a virus? Could it be a spam email? Every possibility ran in my mind. I mustered up courage and clicked on the subject and some more surprise unfolded.

The mail was marked to many others (FB, DF, FWB) and said he was getting married in Madurai on Sep 15. I opened the invite in awe and shock, but with a flickering hope that it could be prank. My eyes searched for his name, his father’s name and bride’s name on the invite. I even rechecked the date and venue. May be he was fooling around after tampering with an expired old invite in Photoshop. But it was all there in bold and red. I froze for a minute and replayed our conversations and decisions on marriage and how we guys could all stick together and care for each other. Now all that seemed far, distant and a big lie. It left me with one question - Can humans change their orientation and preference that easily? Was it due to undue pressure for family and society? Or was it a biological need? I couldn’t go back and talk him out of it, but atleast pray for his happiness and continue living with a hope that I would still be on his list of friends.

Losing a gay man to another gay man was something that I am used to, but losing to a woman was not acceptable. This is not the first time such a thing in happening to me. A good friend of mine in the US did the same a few years ago. He came to India to get married, but didn’t even inform me of his trip or marriage. One fine day he saw me online and told me that he was married, my heart just sank. I asked him when and he said it happened 6 months ago. I asked him where and he said India. I didn’t ask him anything more and the chat was punctuated with silence more than words.

More than disappointment, I felt hurt because I was kept in dark. Leave alone an invite for the wedding, I was not even worthy of an information. How will we define our space and friendship? But then he was clear, he didn’t want to remember his past life and friendships and he wanted to put an end to it. That was the last chat we had and his marriage was the funeral of our friendship.

I closed the e-invite in disappointment and loss. More than what bothered me was the text below the first few lines of the invite. He said he is sending this email as a FYI and not an invite. He said he will not be accessing this email anymore and his phone number was already changed. I could not believe my eyes. Is he out of his mind? Why would I trouble him after his marriage? Can’t we still remain friends? I closed the email and again opened to make sure I was hallucinating. But it was in black and white and our friendship was “Shift + Delete”. It was an irrecoverable loss, and friendship.

Am I such a bad human being that he wants me out of his life? Isn’t it easy to say good-bye to people through email and walk away turning your back at them and your past? I felt like a cigarette and marijuana, I gave them happiness and at the end of it I was stomped. Rather than going through this grill mill every time, I have told me friends who are getting wedded to send me just an email with just the subject “I am getting married” and I will instantly rearrange my life.

Sometimes the shortest distance between two gay man is never a straight line, it is devious, long and abruprt. Anything that you can’t share it with family will always remain in dark and what happens in dark…stays in dark…

99 out of 100 times gay men are hurt by their own community more than st8 men and women and rest of the community. There is no use holding pride parades and talking about gay rights if you cant treat your own community with respect and love.

It is time to move on…..

F-Words

I was shocked the other day when my close friend of 15 years failed to introduce me his “friend” at a social gathering to which he dragged me. Am I not eligible for the “friend” title after 15 years of association and kinship? This incident made me examine the meaning of the frivolously used word “friend”.

Maybe introducing someone in the straight world as a “friend” has no other connotation than in the gay world, where friendships are fleeting and forged in the market driven by lust, needs, meats and measures. This was a completely straight gathering and no one would even read otherwise, but still I remained on his “acquaintance list”.

I came home that night in slight funk after the friendly humiliation. I flipped through my contacts on my mobile, trying to decide which friend to call and unction my bruised spirit. As I scrolled through the mobile phone contacts something struck me really hard.

Next to our families, we all invest in a circle of trustworthy people we call “friends” with an unspoken agreement that we will be there for each other. I began counting the number of contacts that I would truly acknowledge as “friends” and I tried to remember how I forged those friendships and if the relationships were psychological bonds or physiological needs or both? This is when I realized be it straight or otherwise friendships come with boundary conditions, retention clauses, expiration dates and no guaranteed satisfaction clauses L.

What does the word “friend” mean to a gay man? What did my contacts list say about me? Could all the fuck buddies be referred to as friends? This humiliation made me honest, and turned me inwards. I christened all friends on my contact list with suffixes.

FWB– friends without benefits - these are just plain vanilla friendship without any benefits, they could be straight or gay, but no physical boundaries trespassed in the past and no intentions for the future

DF – dial a fuck – these are mere fuck buddies, sexploration, could be one night stands or get you to be a repeat customer, and driven by lust, pleasure, hormones and not for issues and tissues

FB - friends with benefits – these are guys whom you can connect with emotionally and physically (shoot from the hip and lip), they can wipe body fluids and bind raw wounds (gauze)

I was happy I was able to be honest and segregate my friends from FB and DF. Now I had to deal with all these contacts with suffixes. Should I make the DF and FB ones a little more perky and juicy by adding statistics to it? I know I sound like a herbiwhore now.

Some guys are really adept in handling friends, fuck buddies and friends with benefits. Now I kept thinking how am I going to handle them? I could name them however I want on my mobile, but in the real word “friendship” word comes with a set of rules and grammar. Do I call them as friends, though they would typically fall in the “DF” category? New words come with tenses, degrees and usage rules.

Should I call it a plain English grammar class or a word power class with Norman & Lewis? Doesn’t matter, it was a night of revelation. Mobile scrolling taught me other words apart from the flippant one – friendship and fuck. FWB, DF, FB got added to the dictionary of f-words. It exposed my oscillating between a predator and a prey, and brought back memories from the past – some names smelled of sweat, some smelled of gooey body fluids, while some were just plain tears. But the there were a few friends who started as FB but who got upgraded to FNB category and some who got downgraded from FB to DF.

But honestly I was coming to terms with my randy, gaudy and slutty side. I realized had used people like surgical cotton and disposed them without any reverence and gratitude. I will let you scroll down your mobile and repeat the same exercise …..let me know where and how I feature on your list.

Wh…moments…

Flex your muscles and try holding back to the moving arms of the clock, did you succeed? Even strongest men like Hercules will be crushed in the paws (pause) of time. As powerless humans we all can re-visit time, like the visit to a museum filled with memories and memorabilia.

During such walks I spent some moments in awe and some moments in thaw… Not all moments in life are captured and made available in glass chambers with a discolored and oxidized note that reads “Do not touch”. But there is always a silence, and contemplation when you do such trips.

My recent visit to the museum was to explore the Wh…. moments of my life from my sexuality point of view. When I knew…. Life gives you clues and hints about yourself, but not everyone is agile and smart to decipher them. Only after passage of time, and going through mill of experiences we get to pause and stretch on the paws of time and re-visit to the grail trail to read the clues and finally realize “I missed it then”.

But interestingly when I knew piece always comes with a denial. To some it lasts for a few years and to some it takes decades to reach that point of acceptance. That is when I realized that sometimes things outside the glass chambers are more brittle than the ones inside.

The self-realization happens only after passage of time and after the world realizes the “me”. Twenty five years later when I sit back (not in an easy chair yet!) closing my eyes to recollect my growing up days…. and realize the real “me”. It felt very much like deciphering from a piece of Braille, though weird and rough, I was reading my own life. How did I miss the cues? Did my own eyes not turn blind then? Even co-passengers on the trip were not able to spot them, now I realize I am my own curator.

When others knew….rewind the tapes, and look at the first moment when you couldn’t express your longing for men or the first instance you exhibited your feminine side and your care for men?

Some dressed up in grandmother’s clothes, tried on mother’s lipstick and mascara, painted nails with sister’s nail polish, breast fed and nourished her dolls with care, and some even wore her fancy jewellery and danced to racy bollywood tunes to flying duppattas in front of the mirror. Is imitation the best form of flattery or is it a deep sense of longing? Call it the peacock moments or whatever….but for some this was the defining moment of their sexuality.

But others knew your longing then…. we wanted to be caretakers like womenfolk in our households. Our innocence limited our expression and we choose to express it differently.
It was not easy when other knew….Our families got to see the uncensored premiere of our sexuality. Some scorned at our longing and innocence, some stole our happiness in bud, and some dismissed “all this gimmicks” as a growing up thing, while some knew the real “fruitcake” in the family.

Was our flamboyance underrated as frivolousness or was our sexuality overrated as perversion? I had no clue then and it was easy to deal with ignorance and innocence. But now thinking about it and looking at the reflection of my sexuality, it was always glaring and quirky.

When I am ok with it…. is the toughest of the Wh… moments…after having gone through the torture and taunt for being and behaving different in school, trying to solve the mystery about ourselves, constantly caught in the low tide of pride and self esteem, living with the feeling of “victims of my own sexuality”, going through the denial mill for years, and finally end the years of freedom struggle within and reach our destination – I am ok with it.

Should we call such holy grail trips as defining moments in life or re-defining moments in life? Once you reach the destination the overbearing cross of sexuality disappears, gasping for survival ends, a fresh lease of life infused, a feeling of re-birth, a smile of approval and acceptance, and shoulders feel light, and finally what the world calls perversion becomes our pride. A life that was once seemed a dead end and dusty is now a paved road and clean laid out directions.

In the journey of life nobody can bring back the lost moments be it happiness or time, but can rewind the moments, come to terms with it and replace the old discolored and brittle piece and sad piece of paper in the museum with fresh, and clean paper that reads “I am special”.

Smitten or bitten?

In the divine language of love some expression and terms of endearment are never uttered or written but painted skin by breaking the capillary below the surface of the skin. And the final painting is a red patch that serves as an evidence and embarrassment. Such an expression of love are called a “hicky”.

For Indians such an expression of love does exist but seldom revealed or discussed because it is considered a taboo more than embarrassment. When I asked some of my straight colleagues if they knew about hickies they carried a blank look on their face, while the liberated ones (married men and gays) broke into an instant smile and even narrated anecdotes of their first one and how they managed to fool their mothers.

It really doesn’t matter if you are single or married or in a relationship, hickies are embarrassing. In a house where tattoos are considered blasphemy, hickies spelt instant banishment. I landed on a Monday morning from Bangalore and along with my dirty clothes came 2 hickies on either biceps. Should I be arraigned on multiple counts for accommodating them and for ticket less travel to Chennai?

If I were married hickies would mean a fertile conjugal life and nobody would even ask or discuss about it. But my singlehood put me on a jittery wicket and I had to cover up the weekend T20 match filled with bites and hisses apart from regular bats and balls. Facing my mother was like facing those bodyline bowlers.

Are they really lovebites or dynamites? Hickies are like an entourage; they follow you silently but attract attention, raise eyebrows and let audience make instant judgments. Dangerous, huh? If my hickies are spotted at home how can I explain myself at home? I was nervous and at the same time cautious and very thoughtful. Can I fool people that it is bite from a hospital bed bug (a 160 cm tall, 60 kg handsome man with 32 healthy mandibles) or Lyme’s disease? Ha ha…in both arms and at the same place?

I locked myself in the toilet and removed my shirt to examine the size and shade of the hickies, how innocent huh? I was not a spotted Deer or a Leopard, but just a love bitten soul. Reflection in the mirror showed two hickies size of a 50 paisa coin with a deep shade of pink marked by a deep red boundary. How did it happen to me was the kind of look I showcased. I shifted my eyes from the mirror and looked at it directly, it was true and real. I was loved and devoured in a way never before.

To me hickies are symbol of love and represent the passion in the love making process. And darker shade meant more the passion in the love making process. Why would someone paint that on you if he or she is not interested in you both physically and emotionally? Can I flaunt them be vociferous at home. Hell no!

Single men seldom exercise caution before the game, but however prepared you get some
expression of love always lands you in trouble be it on your skin or on your shirt, irrespective of
your status (single or married). All said, seen, and every minute spent on looking at my private
body art reminded me of the intimate moments, unsaid, but expressed love through clenching of
jaws, sucking of skin and lubricating with the saliva and slowly smacking the tongue. Does it
sound delicious or salacious?

I didn’t want the hickies to fetch me other titles though I would rather like people to know that I am single, monogamous happy and live an action packed life. Over the next few days I made frequent trips to the toilet to examine the size and color of the hickies in the mirror. I had no choice but not to parade around the house shirtless or step out of the toilet with just the towel around my waist. And I was doubly wary not to expose my burly biceps at the gym. Looking at the body art at times I reminiscent the culmination of emotions and hormones, but at times it was like watching crescent of Moon wax, when will it fade? There was some pain every time I ran my fingers over them, but I must confess I enjoy it.