Wednesday, April 26, 2006
Say Hello!
Say Hello!

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That's Karma. (Provisional name for now.) A lovely lass came by to Boy's workplace with the pup, and Boy's boss bought the little tyke for him. I just finished chatting with Boy, and Karma was snoozing on his lap. hehehe... Little tyke snores in his sleep and sleeps on his back, so that Boy can rub his tummy. And he has an appointment with the vet at 3 pm Boy-time. (Ouch!)


Boy's kicked like hell, and so am I. I'm just kinda sad that I'm missing all the action... aaa, well, hopefully next year, I'll be there too, to see Karma. We feel like parents. I know that sounds corny, but it's kinda true. It's truer for Boy than for me, right now, of course, but I'm gonna call him up in about twenty minutes on the phone, and I'm sure that as soon as I hear Karma yap on the other end, I'm going to fall in love a second time. Again, corny, but hey, you were warned.

Why Karma? I thought the name was awfully heavy for a cute li'l pup when I first heard it, myself. Boy had options like Mocha or Chin Too. But we decided to ignore the advice of his friends who felt that a Chinese breed dog should have a Chinese name, and Boy thought Mocha was too common a name. (I love the name, though, and so it's going to be one of my nick names for Karma, the other one being Chocolate. Yes, I'm hungry right now.) Other choices? Button, cuz the teeny mite has a cute li'l nose, not like his Big Nose Daddy at all. (chuckle) Booger, because while sleeping during Boy and my online chat, he let loose a chhottu bubble from his wet nose. I also thought about Tum Tum, after Boy told me about the sleeping-on-back thingy, but I didn't voice the suggestion, because it sounds way too Chinese.

No, Karma it is. Provisional, but we've grown to like it. Grown to love it for him. And even though I thought it was too heavy for a cute li'l pup like him at first, Boy changed my mind when he reminded me that Karma, Opera House in amchi Mumbai, was where he fell in love with me.

Don't worry: I'm not one of those pansy floozies who goes to get a glittery disco tunic for li'l Karma.



Sunday, April 23, 2006
On GAY TV Tonight...
On GAY TV Tonight...

So ok, I'm sitting and watching the telecast of the Gladrags Megamodel and Manhunt contest right now on Star One. Please don't hate me: I'm not always this retarded, but sometimes I like to play the role of the Gay Dunderhead. *sigh*

What isss to be doingsss?

Anyhow, the way I see it, Gladrags is a highly gay themed show. Why? Well, decide for yourself: hot babes in bikinis, Maureen Wadia, dumb hunks in bikinis, Pooja Bedi, sarong-pyjamas falling of dumb hunks, John Abraham, fashion shows, Arjun Rampal, the hyper-active younger Meet brother performing at the show who kept jhatkaoing his hips, and yes, again, John Abraham. *drool*


CT: "Hey sexy, I'm looking at hot almost-naked hunks strutting over here. They're dancing and shaking their groins a lot."

Boy, a bit alarmed: "What?! Where are you?"

CT: "At home only, baba. I'm not that pretty to invited for orgies like that, you know. *titter* It's the Gladrags Manhunt Contest on TV."

Boy, (do I hear him sigh in relief, and should I feel offended that he apparently agrees I'm not orgy-hot?!): "O, OK... you're watching TV..."

CT: "O,ooooo... these guys are actually wearing sheer leopard printed sarong-pyjamas, and this guy's thingy just fell off, so he's dancing in teeny-weeny black speedos!"

Boy, getting into the groove now: "Ooooo... do you have popcorn with you? This sounds like fun!"

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Aaa, well, yes, fun it is. And that's another one of the things that's gay about Gladrags. The fact that all these straight men, just because it's the much-awaited swimsuit round, start grooving and dancing and twisting their bodies and pumping their muscles, as if they're in some teeny overcrowded alley of Bangkok's seediest red light area. I mean, come ON guys! So you're modelling for a swimsuit, but you don't need to get all jiggy with it, just cuz they're playing Black Eyed Peas!

All those gay hooker moves are funniest when you consider the opening lines they gave when they first walked out on the stage. 1. "Hi, I'm so-and-so and I have been wanting to come to this event since I was 17, and now 6 years later, I am here, and I pray by the grace of God who watches over my family, that I win..." 2. "I don't believe in winning and losing concepts, What really matters is that you try your best, and that is what I will do. I am a simple boy from Patiala, and I want to do my country proud by winning this title"... Yea? What title? Mr Bang-Cock 2006?! 3. "I quote - A bird flies yonder/ aching to break free/ to soar/ to leap/ to see - ladies and gentlemen, that bird is me."

Yes, That bird is you, dude. Cuckoo.

Observed: Maureen Wadia of course must seat herself between Arjun Rampal and John. John was looking divine in his spanking new haircut, and was quite open-mouthed when the Megamodel gals started doing the ramp in their swimwear round, and Arjun's white shirt was perennially open to his belly button - not that I'm complaining. Maureen Hag was routinely whispering thingys to both her boytoys. I love that woman. *giggle*

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Observed Again: Most of the judges were having a ball, while the others were just plain bored, and Sabina Chopra looked pained. Riteish Desmukh has a new haircut as well, but is still as sad as ever. Was giggling continuously with the persona non grata next to him. The only judge who looked remotely interested in judging was (don't faint!) Pooja Bedi. (She looked quite shocked at the final choices, by the way.) Maureen was probably wondering what services she would extract from the three boys (read: winners) delivered to her room that night. I love that woman. *giggle*

Observed Over and Over Again: Jeh Wadia of Go AIR fame, sitting behind the judges, looking quite flustered. What is mummy upto tonight?! But, o good god, where o where was dreamboat brother Ness? *swoons*

Overheard: The answers in the Question Round. ROTFLMAO. Do people actually have so little brains collectively? Riteish asked his boy, what is the biggest problem in the world that needs to be solved, and please don't say poverty? The boy replied "women!", and just when the audience started clapping and sighing that finally there was one with a sense of humour, he spoiled it all, by copying Answer No. 2046 from the Ms World Handbook about women's education upliftment. *groan*.

John was best: after his first question got used up, he asked What is global warming and how is it caused? As soon as the dumbo boy answered, Yes it is a real problem, it happens because there is too much pollution because of cars and all, John baba thought we shouldn't really expect too much and put in a quick, O that's right, thank you for answering that question very well. Huh, wazzat! Ummm.. wasn't John baba one of the Gladrags crowd as well, at one time, now? *chuckles*

Lost and Forgotten: The Megamodel gals contest. What, where, who, why???

Best part of the event: Shivani Kashyap's performance (I lurrrve her voice, absolutely!) and Jon of course.

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Update: OK, so the show's over, and does anyone really want to know who won, since they're all U-G-L-Y? The cutest guy, one Vikrant Oberoi, was saddled with Mr Congeniality and that's it. Bah!

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Friday, April 21, 2006
Delhi Memoirs - Part Two
Delhi Memoirs - Part Two

So, the other day, I was online and after chatting with Boy, I bump into the Ponytail. Hey, says I, so what's happening with you? Still enconsced in your comfy 3-bhk-flat- in-Gurgaon-with-two-balconies?

Ponytail: "Naaa, dude, I moved out some time back. Decided to take a 6 month sabbatical from work, so I moved in with the parents."

CT, shock and awe at a handsome and virile young gay man being forced to live with parents: "I'm shocked and awed at the thought of a handsome and virile young gay man being forced to live with his parents!"

Aaa, well, the conversation wasn't exactly earth shaking, but he did tell me that Salsa Boy was also online at the same time, and I promptly buzzed him. Salsa Boy is currently living in the UAE, by the way, and I keep teasing him about the Arab Sheikhs on his plate, when I see him online.

CT: "*BUZZ* So how many gay Sheikhs are there now, hotstuff?"

Salsa Boy: "hehehe.. Waiting for you still."

CT, grinning: "Awww, you're a cute liar."

Salsa Boy and I first met up ages ago, at a private party in Delhi, hosted by this other gay man who was leaving for Sri Lanka the day after. I had gone to the party with this other guy on our second date, and my date knew Salsa Boy. My first impression of him, however, was when he snaked his way behind me suddenly, and tongued my ear, saying I was a juicy treat.

Aaa, well, interesting first impressions. I was a bit turned on (the vodka, the vodka!) but quite quite stunned, and retracted myself from his boa-like vice, aided suitably by the not-too-amused glare my date was flashing at me. But I did flash him back a grin. Three weeks later, when the thing with the date boy fizzled out, and Salsa Boy sent me an sms, saying he still remembered me and how was I doing these days, I decided to reply.

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(Of course, I was majorly flattered that the guy had hunted down my phone number to sms me!) So I reply: Yes I remember you. You're the Friendly Neighbourhood Tongue Man from So-and-so's party.

Well, anyhow, we decided to catch up after that, and went to this nice place called the Big Chill in Khan Market. We talked, we laughed, we had a nice date, and no we didn't have sex on the first date. Of course, that was purely on his insistence: I would have jumped him in the car if he had allowed me to - Salsa Boy is marvellously hot! - but he insisted that we not do it then. Sex happened on the second date and it was mindblowing - and thereby began a two month journey with Salsa Boy.

The thing with Salsa Boy was different for me because of a variety of reasons. It wasn't the first time I was dating someone with such a huge reputation of being a Delhi slut, but it was unique, cuz he was still on excellent terms with everybody else - unlike the Slut No 1 I had dated earlier, who everyone bitched about later. So I was a mite nervous and it was gratifying to see the way he fawned over me. Also, it was clear that even though he cared for me, I was not his number one priority - there was his work, and there were his friends, and there was his family, and later, at the no 4 or 5 slot, there was me. He liked me, he wanted to date me, but there it was, the List.

Another funny thing was, Salsa Boy was an open relationship. I knew he was having sex with some other guys, and he never denied it when I asked him, but it was also clear that the other guys were one-night stands and I was the only guy he was dating. As for me, I was having one-night stands as well. The classic approach.

It ended though, one night at his place, after chocolate cake, when he told me he wanted to end the sex part with me, and remain only good friends. I understood why he was doing it: he didn't want the casual dating to progress onto a relationship, because he felt I wasn't the right guy for him then. And he knew that I was beginning to feel possessive, starting to get into the 'relationship mode'. This way, he reasoned, it would be a clean break.

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It was. It was the most dignified split I have ever had, and I'm so glad, because after that, whenever we meet online, there's never any uncertainty or slight hesitancy like there is when I meet some of my other exes. That's why I avoid meeting my exes - with the exception (no puns intended) of Nature Boy, who I'm not sure can even be labelled an 'ex'. I appreciated the way he had broken it so neatly, and I told him that, months later online.

Then, the other night, while the jokes on Arab Sheikhs in the UAE had died down, and we were talking general stuff about his life and mine, and what we want from it, he sighs and says he wants to tell me something serious.

Salsa Boy: "I think, if you and I met up now, I woud want to have a relationship with you."

CT, goggles: "&*^#%*)&%@"

Salsa Boy laughs

CT: "This is a change... but I guess both of us have changed."

Salsa Boy: "Yea, we have. It's been such a great thing, chatting with you all this while, watching you change. You've become so much better equipped to handle things."

CT, musing: "Mmmm... perhaps. I've observed how much you've changed yourself. Still quiet as ever, but much more patient, I think. More open to things that don't work out the way you would like them too!"

Salsa Boy: "Too bad you're not in the UAE here with me. Wouldn't have let you go away this time, sexy!"

CT, laughing: "Aaa, well, tales from another day here... "

O, and yes, I told Boy later about this conversation, and we both mused how strange our relationships with our exes are, and how stranger they become with time.

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Wednesday, April 19, 2006
Delhi Memoirs - Part One
Delhi Memoirs - Part One

Sniff out dry Delhi summers even in the middle of the sultry Bombay heat. Last year, I received a phone call from a Delhi ex, Salsa Boy, that his friend the Ponytail was hitting Bombay, and would I be nice enough to meet him and show him around a bit. Ponytail and Salsa Boy are close friends, but he was always too busy to catch up with the two months that Salsa Boy and I were dating, so we had never met. Being curious, therefore, I readily agreed.

I kept Ponytail waiting at the Marine Drive Barista for an hour before I finally showed up, and then his cute dimpled smile made my knees go weak. We walked down Marine Drive, I introduced him to green chilly ice cream at Bachelor's, and then capped the evening at Churchill's on Colaba. I escorted him back to the Gordon House, where he was staying, and as soon as the elevator doors closed on us, we were making out frantically.

;-) My first (and only, to date) time in an elevator!

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Well, for the four days that he was here after that, Ponytail and I met up regularly, and not all of our escapades were in the elevator. There was the time when my then flatmate was not working, or when his travel partner was out partying, or some other such episodes. It got so hurried and so frantically beautiful, that by the time he was leaving, he was asking me to seriously consider taking a job in Delhi again, so that he and I could try a relationship.

(I was very, very, very serious about it.)

Well, after that, both Ponytail and I confided the story of our passion to mutual pal Salsa Boy, who found it all very funny.

Salsa Boy: "If you asked me, you guys are so not made for each other! I would never have thought that he would have fallen for you the way he has!"

CT, whiny: "Stop being so cold about it."

Salsa Boy, laughing: "I'm not being cold, just incredulous. Anyway, it really doesn't concern me at all. If it works out for you, I'm happy for you guys!"

There was to be a gap of one month before Ponytail would come back to Bombay on another business trip. During that interval, we were on the phone and online regularly, talking to each other and exchanging steamy scenarios and mushy plans about what might happen when we met the next time. And then, the fateful day came, Ponytail flew into Mumbai airport, and I was to meet him that night at the GB party organized at the Razz.

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Not sure how it happened, really. Suddenly, there was Zero Chemistry. We met, we danced, we snogged, we went back to his hotel room and had sex. But, through it all, it felt like we were doing something orchestrated. The second time around, I just didn't feel anything for him, and I wondered whether he could see that. He was in town for just three days that time, and so it seemed natural that we never met up again after that first night.

The next week, when I confided this to Salsa Boy, the bastard burst out laughing.

Salsa Boy: "He told me the exact same thing!"

CT, surprised, "He felt the lack as well?"

Salsa Boy: "Yup, yup. It's not working, he said."

CT lets out a sigh of relief.

So, after that, Ponytail and I caught up online again and rather shyly confessed to each other that the 'magic' simply wasn't there any more, and so all further plans of moving to Delhi were shelved.

Thank God, because in December late last year, a certain Gujarati hottie called Boy stepped into my life.

*lopsided grin*

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Sunday, April 16, 2006
BREAKING NEWS: DNA opens The Closet
BREAKING NEWS: DNA opens The Closet

Happy Surprise.

Yours truly submitted an article to DNA on integrating the gay life with the straight in Bambai nagariya, and it got published yesterday, on the Sunday After Hrs. My apologies for not telling you guys in advance, but I wasn't too sure myself about whether it would show up, and I picked up my own copy only around 10 pm.

The article is titled Tag-a-long Party, and is featured as the anchor story (complete with cartoon and all) on a new inside page dedicated to menfolk, and is also teased on the front page of After Hrs. The byline is wrongly attributed to Talking Closets (d-uh: TC is the name of the blog, while Closetalk is the author!), but who cares, since they've also linked to the blog.


So, anyway, seeing that getting a copy of yesterday's paper may be difficult now, I decided to reproduce the original article here. The parts in red are what was edited and kept out of the article when it finally appeared...

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Coming out to your friends and coming out to your family are two very different things, as any gay man (partly) in the closet will tell you. Somehow, it's easier with your friends. And its easier for you to initiate them into your 'other' life. True, when I tell them about this fantabulous guy I'm in love with, they may look strangely and wonder what on earth it feels like, to be in love with someone of the same sex, but they also nod sagely, smile with paternal/maternal affection and tell you that Love Is Great.

Amen: Love Is Great.

And gay parties? Well, they may not be Great (capital letters), but they're Fun (capital letters again).

How many of us gay men/women have taken our straight pals out with us to share a slice of Gay Abandon (I have a thing for capital letters when I'm explaining concepts, you see)... Well, most of us old hags. In so many cases, our straight friends are our companions when we've been around the block too many times without hitting jackpot, and we don't want to go for a party alone. I still remember the time I asked my first flatmate - a very straight and very liberal Punjabi young man who has since then moved to another city - to come with me to a gay party. He shrugged, grinned, and said in his characteristic Punju drawl, Why not?

As easy as that.

And no, he didn't move to the other city because of the traumatic experience thereafter at the party. Actually, he had no experience noteworthy to speak of. He came, hung around at the bar with his beer, got introduced to my gay friends (with the stern warning that he was straight and not Fair Game, capital letters), and then after five beers, did the bhangra to a vastly amused gay crowd of onlookers. The next day, all sober and squeaky clean, he announced that he had had a 'fun' time.

What did I say about Fun?

Then, there was the time I took along this whole group of friends to one party. My best friend (female), and two others (one male, one female) and I. First observation: female friend 2 squealed in glee: "Ooo, they're so pretty!" Second observation: best friend nodding: "They dance so well!" All this, while I nodded in modest glee: yes, we're... umm.... pretty, and yes, we dance great. Not good, great!

Parting shots from that particular event? Loads more glee. Best friend got hit on by her very first lesbian, and couldn't stop gloating about it for a week. And male friend, who didn't have any first or second or third observations, got asked for a light by a Muscle Mary with shiny muscles and a taffetta scarf.

PS: Regulars at the closet are now expected to bombard DNA with responses, saying that they read the article, loved it, and want to know when the author will be invited to write a weekly/fortnightly column for the newspaper. *wistful expression*

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Thursday, April 13, 2006
High Chancellor Closetalk
High Chancellor Closetalk

So the other day, Flatmate and I were watching TV, and she balked at this cute guy onscreen wearing pink jeans. I balked as well, but quickly covered it up, when she groaned and declared that it was a horrendous case of Metrosexuality Mania.

CT, huffing: "So what's wrong with being metrosexual?"

FM, pulling her hair out in frustration: "Are you kidding me?! It's awful! All these guys are acting so horribly gay!"

CT, cold voice: "So, what's wrong in being gay?"

FM, calming down: "Sweety, nothing's wrong in being gay if you are gay, but why act gay when you're straight?! It just turns the women off!"

CT, with maniacal gleam in eye: "We should just get rid of all the women on the planet...!"

*Darth Vader background score*

I suppose some of the Frankensteinian zeal from the post before last still remained within me, because in that instant, I had this beautiful vision of the world before me. A carefree, Gay World, like nothing that has ever existed before. And with FM there to parry and thrust with, I worked out the details...

GayWorld will only have men. Gay men. All straight men will be subjected to homosexual experiences repeatedly, unless they finally turn gay (of their own free will), and lust at the sight of Facial Hair. The deviants who refuse to be converted will be made into slaves - scantily clad of course - and subjected to rigorous gymming so that they have Greek God like bodies for our daily pleasure.

The women, we don't need. So, they can be all shipped away to the moon.

FT, Voice of Reason incarnate: "Yea, and then all you gay men will die out within a generation!"

Ummm... ok, so we'll subject the women to homosexual encounters repeatedly also, so that we make lesbians out of most of them. The deviants who refuse to be converted witll be shipped to the moon and locked away in Reproduction Tanks. Measured artificial insemination will be used on them, and also on the lesbian volunteers, to create subsequent generations. The Star Children will obviously be those borne to a gay father and a lesbian mother, and by promoting artificial insemination of Star lesbians with Star gay men, the aim of society will be to isolate, harness and propagate the Gay Gene.


FT, amused now: "But what about your fag hags? How will you gay men exist without them?"

Ummm... ok. True. Not all the best fag hags are lesbians. Actually, very few lesbians are fag hags, and vice versa. So, the aim of artificial insemination will also be to create a line of straight Fag Hags. They will be rewarded for their puppy dog like friendliness with the choicest of the Straight Male Slaves that we will use for our pleasure.

Look at the advantages. The world is united under the Rainbow banner. With the sexuality issue out of the way, we will be free to pursue interstellar exploration and commerce. We can slave trade with other civilizations, with the excess Straight Deviants. There will be no separate country, so that you can have sex with someone from any ethnicity, and that will only bring all our gay brothers and sisters and lovers together. Yay! Never since Hitler has such a philanthropist like me been born.

FM, in awe: "You're a NUT!"

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Tuesday, April 11, 2006
Happy Birthday, Talking Closets
Happy Birthday, Talking Closets

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It's been a swell ride so far!

(No puns intended)



Monday, April 10, 2006
Closetalk plays Frankenstein
Closetalk plays Frankenstein

Never thought of myself as a mentor of sorts (though I will be applying for a graduate assistant position at an American university later this year) until the other day. The other day was intended to catch up with li'l Veed, of whom I have admittedly not seen much lately. So, after a lot of drama queen ishtyle moaning and groaning about how far his house is from mine and how I need to go to work the next day, I succumb and pack an overnight bag. The agenda for the night is Pizza and Spice Girls.

Veed's house is amazingly large. His computer desktop has a huge blow-up of himself with Emma Bunton, and when I enquired whether he had anything of Geri Halliwell ('It's Raining Men!') I got a scowl and a comment that he wasn't interested the least in Geri Whore-i-well.


Getting back to the task of mentoring. It was discovered that poor li'l Veed, who rarely goes to GB parties, and rarely meets suitable young gay men of a screwable age, didn't have an ID on that answer (and simultaneously, source) to all problems of young gay men of screwable age: It was his lucky day that I decided to play Fairy Godfather, and with his mouse doubling up as my wand, did the needful.

(By the way, there was absolutely no dirty joke implied in that last bit about mouses and wands. I just realised, upon re-reading this post, that it sounds funny. )

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First, the hunt for a suitable name for our suitable boy. Thrown in the ring, were such hopefuls like 'Spice Boy', "Posh&Pecs", "Doc Veed", and finally we chose this slightly longer name that doesn't sound like a gay young man of screwable age at all. And no, we never even considered 'beautifullyintended'. ;-)

Fill up the form: Top/Btm? Ht? Wt? Wst? Eyes? Hair? Friendship/Fraandsip/Sex/Open Relationship/Closed relationship? Twink/Muscleman? Mumbai? Permutations and combinations, till we fnally reached the part that possibly is as far as most prospective profile watchers come to: the all-important Photo.

Choice 1 is the 'nanga' pic that li'l Veed is hyper about. Choice 2 is a tousle-haired bed-head look that took him 30 whole minutes to perfect. Choice 3 is the suited and spiked look. Choice 4 is something which is All Teeth. Veed is adamant that 'nanga' pic occupy pride of place as default pic, but the server didn't agree and refused to accept it. We stuck with the perfected bed-head look, instead.

Litmus test: hit the chatroom. Bated breath.

Sometime back, Veed and I had hit the chatroom under my user name, and I had shown the lad three different ways of chat in three different chat windows. 1. With the cute guy who lived in LA, try 'cute and sexy, flirty' chat. You want to keep him hooked. Veed was happy. 2. With guy no 2, who asked where you were in Bombay and whether you wanted to meet, try the 'out-and-out' sex chat, discuss fave positions and styles, and bedroom orientations and exchange numbers purely for game reasons. Veed was slightly horrified, but still fascinated. 3. Finally, with guys 3, 4 and 5, I used the 'go to hell' approach: no, you're ugly, and I don't wanna screw you, I don't wanna talk to you, so just jump in the well. Veed was "shocked and appalled".

He usually is. ;-)

But it was time now for the litmus test. This time, it wasn't me who would do the chatting. It wouldn't be my name or my pic. It would be the latest entrant in the India Countrywide chatroom of Veed, with his ID and his not-so 'nanga' pic. Tension.

Later that day, when I told Boy over the phone how overwhelmed with parental pride I was when Veed got his first 'hits', he called me a psycho. I dare say, I am, at times. ;-) The boy got 5 hits in under 20 seconds. Five fucking hits. And imagine his drama-queen cheek, after chatting with them for eternity, he moans and groans that nobody liked him because he didn't have his 'nanga' pic.

I hugged my protege after that comment.


Update: The 'nanga' pic is up now, and li'l Veed has reportedly had loads more hits after uploading it. has a new monster on the loose, and I feel like Dr Frankenstein now.

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Wednesday, April 05, 2006
Sand in my swimsuit!
Sand in my swimsuit!

This is in response to the excitement of the question in the earlier post.

This is not an answer, however, because the answer still eludes me. Don't get me wrong: Goa is simply full of good looking, able bodied young men; unfortunately, they either happen to be followed (or led by) equally good looking able bodied young women, or roam in packs of some other not-so good looking, not-so able-bodied young men. For someone like me, who is clearly out of the Race, the entire situation was stimulating, but still frustrating.

Travelling with a straight man has its funny moments. The two of us were lounging on Anjuna Beach, gawking at the succession of hot bodies basking under the hot sun, and while his eyes were glazing over with lust at the ample display of breasts (strictly female for him!), he also found the time to encourage me to hit on good looking firang strangers walking by ahead of us or swimming in the waters nearby.

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Straight Travelmate: "O, look, look... he's hot, he's hot. Go hit on him!"

CT, sheepish: "How? How? I don't know how to hit on people any more."

ST: "Just go up to him and say hi, and ask him whether he wants to have sex with you!"

CT, looking incredulous: "You remind me of the cheapos in a gay chatroom with that dialogue."

ST: "Don't be silly. He's hot, he's hot. You'll miss your chance now!"

CT: "Should I swim close by and flash him a stare?"

ST, agitated and excited as a topless woman floats past a metre from us: "Flash him, period!"

CT, turning red: "OMG!"

ST, excitement mercury rising higher: "O, look, look, that sexy bandana chick looked at me. I think she's coming here. Go away, go away, hit on someone, anyone!"

That wasn't the last of it, of course. Walking on Fort Aguado and he points out pot bellied man sunbathing in printed electric blue swimsuit, and tells me that the guy is from his home town, is very VERY gay, and I should go and have sex with him. I looked at ST incredulously, and say, "I don't sleep with anything with a dick, you know!"

To which, ST looks happily at me, and says, "Of course you do, you're a slut!"

CT: "And you're beyond help!"

The only time I ventured alone on the beach was at Baga. I sat there, on a deck chair, reading, when out of nowhere this slimy guy comes up and starts touching my ankles.

Slimy Guy: "Massage sir? I give you good massage?"

CT, stunned: "No, no, NO!"

SG, groping some more: "I very good with hands... I give good massage, you like what I do!"

CT, almost hysteric: "NO! NO! NO!"

SG, looking hurt but hands still roving, despite CT's thrashing about, "You sure? I very good...!"

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I finally managed to convince him I had no use for his 'good' hands, and he left. The sad part was that Baga Beach, where I lay down, marvellously stripped down to my bare essentials, was entirely populated by fat grannies and gramps, but no sooner had I put my clothes back on and walked up the lane to the hotel, I see a succession of hot guys on hot bikes whizzing past. As usual, I have bad luck.

But, hey, actually, I have very good luck. I have a boyfriend who loves me very much.

(Repeat chant twice more and feel better.)

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Saturday, April 01, 2006
In Goa
Ok, I'm in Goa.