GD and SD

In Gabriel Garcia Marquez's Memoirs of Melancholy Whores an old journalist on the eve of his 90th birthday, seeks sex with a young virgin. Instead of sex, he discovers love for the first time in his life. 

Similar to the old man, ahead of my 42nd birthday, I logged on to Grindr, a modern day Madame not looking for love, sex or boy friends. I like watching men of all ages, race and color digitally swim and spin in their web of desires to see them hunt their prey from a distance. Safari of another kind!

Within minutes after logging on to the app a dozen tadpoles (guys in early 20s) swam towards my digital profile and inundated my inbox me with a characteristic ring. Some texts stopped with a boring hi, some solicited my nude pictures, some flaunted theirs, while a few enticed me for a massage with an assured happy ending for a fee.

I wasn't here to entertain any of their solicitations. So, I didn't take any of their messages seriously and within a day after installing the app, I was ready to quit. As I logged into the app to flush my details, I got a message from a decent looking profile asking me to connect outside of this app and offered his phone number. I made a note of this number before I deleted the app and let it sit around in my phonebook for a few days. 

Though I didn't plan to snoop on him, but he automatically got added to my Whatsapp contacts and I was able to see his display pictures without getting on his phone book. What a voyeuristic app.p, I thought to myself. Like watching a perching bird through binoculars, I watched him change his display picture on his profile 3-4 times a day. Isn't it more than number of times we change clothes everyday? I must confess that his sense of fashion and grooming was much better than many others in the city. 

Finally, after waiting for two days, I dropped him a text with my real name and reminding him of my id on Grindr. Soon we texted back and forth exchanging basic information and developing a connect. As I told you before, I wasn't looking for a date, relationship or sex (paid or free), so there was no need for me to be unnecessarily nice to him or manipulate him to heed to my wild desire. 

During our text exchanges, I curiously asked him about his experience on the app and the purpose of why he was on it. He said he was tired of meeting men his age or younger and was looking for someone my age, preferably single who brought wisdom and experience. Did he trick me with a reply that I was waiting to hear and did I fall for it?

Our offices weren't that far from each other and within a week he requested if we could meet for a coffee somewhere nearby his office. We made a few plans, but due to our work schedules we had to cancel our meet. He came into work by mid-morning, I didn't find meeting after my work time any convenient. So, I told him that it had to be on a weekend and somewhere mid-way between our homes. 

In the next few days he sent me a text asking if I could get him a wallet to replace his worn out one. When I remained silent, he sent me another message to let know that he is sentimental about his wallet and he always got it from his sister or best friend. I ignored his request as it wasn't a healthy way to begin a friendship.

With a new movie (genre: political satire) coming to the cinemas that weekend, he insisted that we go watch it together in my side of the town. I happily accepted his proposal as I was guilty of canceling two of the three coffee meets. To wash away my guilt, I booked the movie tickets and in fact agreed to pick him up at the train station as he was new to this side of the town. 

As the lights were turned down and the movie began, he started to fish for my hands in the dark. Oops! I was a bit surprised by his gesture and propped up an innocent question, "are you looking for something?". He responded no, but insisted on holding my hands while watching the movie. I thought to myself what if the movie had been any other genres: horror, romance or eroticism? Mmm...

While he was watching the movie, I thought about a similar incident from a year ago. A 60-year old gentleman on the other side of Atlantic reached out for my arms. We had met once before at a friend's dinner and had exchanged a few emails. A year ago, he reached out to me asking if I could help him professionally and made an offer to pay for my flight tickets and accommodate me for two weeks. 

And today, when a 27-year old man reached for my arm, I asked myself if it were a curse from the 60-year old who I refused to visit because he appeared to be my sugar daddy?

Soon, at the  intermission, I steeped out to get myself a bottle of water and he faithfully followed me like a tadpole. He stood right besides me at the counter and asked if I could get him a drink and a popcorn. I felt this was a good enough deal to keep his hands off me for the next hour. 

Finally, as we exited the movie hall, his arms were almost around my shoulder; a gesture exhibited by Asian men to showcase their friendship. In an age when random friend requests are sent over social networking sites, why should a two-hour movie, popcorn and cold coffee be not enough to let him have his arms around my shoulder. 

With the night rising and two-hour travel time to his home, he insisted that we find a place close by to grab a bite and have a conversation. I felt uncomfortable to give him a friend status this quickly and I walked faster and blamed it on the traffic to get his arms off my shoulder. But I obliged to his request and walked towards a restaurant feeling lost in my own neck of the woods.

Two weeks later, when I rewind to that weekend and I'm able put my finger on that moment during our dinner conversation when I began to feel compassionate towards him. He lost his father at the age of five and lived at the mercy of his uncles for their sustenance. He managed to get a degree and find a job that brought him to the city. He came to the city with big dreams, but not abandoning his widowed mother back in the village. 

The city life can be harsh and the inhabitants can come across as rude, insensitive and sophisticated making the new entrants feel unfit, uncomfortable and homeless. That night I didn't want him to feel any of this and I felt the need to show that this city had good, warm and caring inhabitants. In fact he insisted that we take a selfie together at the restaurant. This was free and came with no strings attached and didn't raise any alarm bells in me. 

Just like the 90-year old man in the Memoirs of Melancholy Whores, who left the young virgin girl untouched and peacefully sleep besides him that night, I ended up paying for his dinner, picked up a wallet for him and left a small currency note and even let him rest his head on my shoulder on the way to the train station. While the old man experienced and discovered love for the first time, what did I experience and discover? Come along....

I withheld my judgment for a week and continued to stay in touch with the guy to understand him better and probably bring this to an end one way or the other. In the middle of the week he stopped by my office during lunch hour for a quick bite and again I ended up playing a host. In fact I never saw him take out the red color wallet ever since I gifted him. 

A day later he again requested me for a movie that weekend. Despite feeling uncomfortable playing the role, I obliged to only confirm my self-proclaimed label. But this time, I kept my hands tucked under my seat, continued to buy him cold coffee and dinner after the movie. 

While he had gone to wash his hands at the restaurant, I shared the selfie we took together the previous weekend with a common acquaintance he had mentioned during our conversation. And just as I dropped him at the train station, I received a message on my Whatsapp confirming the destination for our friendship. The common acquaintance confirmed that this young man lived off the kindness and currency of older men. Yes, he is a gold digger and I unknowingly volunteered to be his sugar daddy. 

On the way back home, I questioned the basis of all relationships, roles and responsibilities and I asked myself if I did the right thing by spending all this money on a stranger? While I judged the 60-year old man across the Atlantic of trying to play a sugar daddy when he offered to buy my time and pay for my expenses, I paid to make this 27-year old feel loved and welcomed in the city and earning myself the "sugar daddy" title ahead of my 42nd birthday. 

42 Meets 24

At 42, dreams gets busy more than wet. And during the most recent one, my ex-boyfriend from 5 years ago auditioned for another chance. Just as I got thinking if dream stalking was a result of one of us not getting over the other or softening our stand, I received a text message from 24-year old man who I met at a party last October. This is probably the fifth candidate in this age group (twenties) that I've said no to. 

On that rainy October night he came up to me at the club and introduced himself as a friend of a common acquaintance. Sometimes it is missed connections that enable new connections. We exchanged some basic courtesies and information as I began to carefully frame my questions to read more into his handshake. Soon he invited me to join him in the dance floor.

24 is both an even and composite number. It is the age to seek new experiences and chase dreams, desires and seek physical intimacy. Though 42 is also an even and composite number, it is the age by which you know about your dark and clumsy side and you are reluctant to try out new experiences.

Like men his age, he wasn't ready to accept my excuse (clumsy feet and poor motor nerve coordination) and remained steadfast to teach me a few quick and easy steps and join him on the floor.

I was impressed by his simple lessons and was surprised to see his moves and taken aback to see men queuing up to dance with him. Now I knew he was the most popular man in the room and wasn’t it quite an honor for me to get lessons from him?

On my way home that night, my mind began processing mutual insecurities we were projected on each other. I remembered how he followed me like a house cat every time I exited the dance floor. Moreover, I didn’t want to pursue a man who was popular and had a long queue of men waiting to dance with him.

The next morning when I woke up, I noticed a few messages queuing up for my attention similar to the men at the dance floor last night. Just as I began to read and respond to them, I received a call from him asking if I were free to meet up for a coffee. I delayed our meeting and in the meanwhile I reflected upon my love, loss and redemption experiences from my 20s and 30s and began to question the mind of men in 20s.

So, how does it feel to feature on the list of the 24-year old? 

My boy friend was 24 and I was 28 when we first met each other. Despite living in our respective homes in the same city we texted each other from the minute we arose till we retired. There was a time he came to my office and outed me to my colleague because I would not pick his call. Sometimes, we fought wars over 160 characters (SMS) and later realized how we ended up making the mobile companies richer.  

14 years later I again get on the list of a 24-year old. Though, I have a voice and message plan today, but it hardly gets used. Despite subscribing to the minimum plan, the provider continues makes money from my unused plan. When you get to 40s, you have mush less to say and more to think. On one of our calls, I enquired about his future plans, professional aspirations, etc. and motivated him to switch jobs or pursue master degree. I even rewrote his resume and forwarded to a friend in the same industry. Honestly, I was just trying to repay his kindness on the dance floor.

Isn't friendship also about assuaging fears and providing guidance and confidence?

Did we run out of topics or another man catch his fancy at another club? Don’t know why, but our messages and calls eventually stopped. Thinking about composite numbers, I recalled its other definition; it is a positive integer and has at least one divisor other than 1 and itself.

And recently, a year after I met this 24-year old, he called me up and interrupted my thoughts. Was it an anniversary wish? Nah! He told me that had an admit card from a University in France and had to leave the country in 3 weeks. With great joy, I invited him for a drink and dinner; he said he will get back and never did.

As much as sex can be relationship glue, lack of it can also make people drift away and fall apart. My second relationship during my 30s (across two cities) is a great example for what happens when sex cease to exist in a relationship. And now I could see shades of that in again after this phone call.

At 24, sex is undefined and can be with anyone and everyone and need not be confined to a relationship. But at 42, an age when wet dreams are hard to come by; more time is spent trying to define every relationship and giving it the appropriate respect or burial. 

Before I went back to thinking about my dream stalker, I wandered thinking about 24 and 42. Apart from being even and composite, they are both palindromic numbers and get to stay in each other’s life only for a year. And none of the others four guys before him who promised to stay in touch ever did and I don’t hold it against them.

I smirked…it is time to bring on the next number in the palindromic series. And as I get ready for my 43, wouldn’t 34 be more appropriate?