The city's still stuck, 48 hours after what the newspapers call Bombay's worst ever deluge in a single day. That means, sluts like me are left wishing for the existance of creatures called Mermen.
Strange fantasy. Straight captain (regular men-o-wars!) kept on hoping for gorgeous women with big boobs and long hair and collagen lips and fish tails. I wonder if their wenches on board (women-o-war?) ever harboured similar fantasies about hot hunks who'd look great in Speedos, but who can't wear them cuz their fish tales don't fit through... But then, those are the times when gay practicality sinks through, and you realize that you probably wouldn't want a gorgeous merman, however much he resembles Eric Bana, since the fishy appendage thing would rule out the existance of another... um... appendage.
In reality terms, what happened is this: North Bombay was (and is) completely cut off from South Bombay, and that means there was (and is) no way for a cute suburban boy to come down south of Dadar. Damn! Especially since, Bandra Boys are considered quite a tasty treat. Of course, that also ruled out a cute twenty-something from Napean Sea Road to travel all the way up to Juhu, but hell, Townies don't like to travel anyhow, so that really didn't affect anyone's sex drive much. Townies like suburbites to come/cum to them - and rarely the other way around.
So, what we had, therefore, was a case of Townie discovering his gay neighbour - "O, you're gay too! I never would have guessed! Now, I can explain away your leopard print pants - I thought it was just due to the fact that you're Punjabi!" And that resulted in a host of gay Townie boys hitting a whole lot of straight Townie bars and discs across South Bombay and Colaba. Legs splayed or crossed, ears pricked, drinks clinked, cigars puffed, and hands probing below tables Gay life comes to town.
Whatever GB could not manage, despite the rocking parties, Mother Rain did.