Anniversary
Twenty four hours earlier, I sat here at my computer and watched time tick away slowly, till the day arrived that would have marked one whole year with Boy. And now, I sat here again, waiting and watching till the clock announced the day was finally over. A part of me was dreading if he called or messaged, wondering what my reaction would have been - I know, though: anger and irritation, coupled with a lot of relief. But he didn't call. Or message. Maybe he was waiting for me. Maybe I'm just pathetic.
It's been two weeks now, or something like that. And today, of all days, they played Strangers In The Night so many times in the world - once at the five star hotel lobby where I waited for my client to arrive, and then at dinner, when the family and I went out. And despite myself, despite my resolve to not let myself delve on him or the past or my version of the possible future, I allowed myself to get melancholic. For the record, both the dates I mentioned in the previous post went rather well - I thought I struck a great connection with the Party Guy, and even Cute Doc was terribly sweet on our date last night. And while I'm looking forward to meeting both of them again... especially Party Guy... I also know that none of them are... Boy.
*sigh*
None of them are that cute Gujarati guy with the long nose and the stupid American accent who came over to my house for afternoon sex, and then stopped in the middle, asking if he could come back later in the evening to take me out for a 'real' date because he wanted to 'know' me... I remember, I made him wait that first time - he was waiting patiently, while I was hurrying up in the shower, throwing on a shirt, a pair of jeans, and then when we finally stepped out, he got into the elevator with me, and whispered, eyes gleaming, 'You look stunning...!'
That first date, we went to Bombay Blues and he wanted me to order. He looked cockily at me, and said, 'You can tell a lot about a person from the way and things that he orders for dinner,' and I grinned back at him. That was when I learnt he doesn't eat sea food or prawns or mutton, and only has boneless chicken. Your typical Non vegetarian Gujju.
On December 30, we went to this Punjabi restaurant in Dadar, which had the full ethnic look, complete with shamiana and sitar-strumming musicians, and the NRI in him loved that stuff. And then he surprised me by saying he knew a Bengali song, cuz he'd performed to it once, and then he proceeded to sing it. I still have that recording of him singing 'Aay re aay' on my phone.
On December 31, we went to Bandra, shopping for the New Year's Eve GB party. We went to this shop on Hill Road, where he tried on these outrageously shiny shirts, and I dissolved into laughter and took snaps of him on my cell phone. He protested his innocence, saying that he needed shiny shirts for when he performed with his dance troupe on stage, but I refused to buy it. Then, later on, when we came back to my place to dress, I tried one of them one, and he had his moment of 'I told you so!'.
I remember the party - Karma, the lower level. I was waiting for Chimneypot to arrive, and was heading out to check for her repeatedly. Then coming back and dancing with my date for the night, who was looking so amazing. There was a stupid Hindi song playing, and he liked my dance moves so much, he hugged me and called it my 'dhishum dhishum' dance steps... and then, that one time when I went out again to check for Chimneypot, I received an sms on my phone from inside: I think I'm fallin in luv... I went right in and kissed him long and hard, without a word. I was stupid. My flatmate said I looked terribly happy that night, and we made a wonderful pair. We did. I was stupid.
When I kept him waiting for four hours at Bandra some weeks later, I knew he'd be livid, so I bought a bunch of daisies for him and thrust them at him as soon as I saw him, before he could say a word. His face changed... completely...!
Why am I writing all of this down? Because I know, if I don't, I'm going to reach for my phone, punch in the US numbers that I know by heart now, and type something stupid I will hate myself for, tomorrow. The blog helps. The blog helps in giving me the space to write what I really wish I could say, but know would be disastrous to. When I have to sit through two sessions of Strangers In The Night, there is not much even Gloria Gaynor can do to get rid of the butterflies in my stomach. And I thought she was foolproof.
Strangers in the night, exchanging glances,
Wondering in the night
What were the chances we'd be sharing love
Before the night was through.
Something in your eyes was so inviting,
Something in your smile was so exciting,
Something in my heart
Told me I must have you.
The verdict: Frank Sinatra wins, hands down.
The verdict: I hate you, Boy. I hate you because despite everything I've tried to do, I realize in my saddest moments that I feel terribly alone without you. I love you still, damnit.
And I'm glad you never came by to read this blog.
Friday, December 29, 2006
Wednesday, December 27, 2006
It's Raining Men...!
It's Raining Men...!
Some time back, it was the season for long distance relationships, and then earlier this month, it was the season for break-ups, as two close friends and I found ourselves single again. And suddenly, post break-up, it seems to be the season of new encounters and new men.
Some weeks back, during the phase of utter uncertainty as far as Boy and I were concerned, I happened to catch the eye of a very cute guy on the dance floor of a GB party. There was instant attraction, and we met the following day for coffee - just coffee. And as we talked, I wondered to myself how perfect he seemed - how well put-together, how cute, how smart, how sexy, and how very much connected to Bombay, unlike a certain long distance (ex) boyfriend. Since the break-up, I've wondered about him again, and we've planned a date soon. I'm intrigued and interested in him - my first official date after the break-up.
And then, on Christmas eve, I bumped into the Cute Doc again. As usual, we got along famously, we boogeyed on the dance floor, we joked about stilly stuff, we exchanged notes on the GRE exam. And as I was a bit tipsy, after one steamy dance ended, I followed him inside the loo, pushed him up against the wall and kissed him. While it felt nice to remember the old flames - "Nostalgia", he said raspily, after I got my tongue out of his mouth - I thought to myself: why on earth have we never dated? The first time Cute Doc and I met, we got along so well and had such great chemistry, we headed to my place for fun - we never had the conventional date. So this time around, a couple days after the party, I called and asked him out - for a proper date. When I was done with my fumbling, he happily accepted, and we're on track for some time later this week.
And finally there's the man from TinselTown, who I met online at a chat room. Older, yes. But also cute and smart. We've both recently stepped out from relationships, and he joked that we must bitch about our exes when we get together. That was his way of asking me out on a date. So I said yes, and we should catch up later this week, or early the next.
When I told SnowWhite's Stepmother this afternoon over lunch that I was going to play the field now, and not get hung up on any one guy till I knew where I was going, he replied, "When have you not played the field?"
But that's not really right here. I may have been seeing a lot of guys for sex (hell, there's this married guy I know who's arranging some group sex next week!) but I haven't really dated men at the same time. Not since my stint in Delhi, and that was way too complicated for words! This time, though, I've reasoned:
1. Cute Party Guy may be gorgeous and I may have kept in touch with him all this while, but at the end of the day, we've just had one proper date, so there's nothing exclusive here, really, and I can do what I want, when I'm not seeing him.
2. Cute Doc is sweet and great, but hell, it's probably just going to be a great momentary fling, since I'm planning to study abroad, so there's no reason why he should complain.
3. TinselTown man may be nice too, but what the hell, everyone dates simultaneously... at least until they're sure of what or who they want.
And I'm not sure. I thought I was, at one point of time, but then not anymore. So it's up to me then, to just... play my way around, feel around the crevices and make up my mind. It's raining men right now, or so it seems, and for once I don't mind getting soaked!
Some time back, it was the season for long distance relationships, and then earlier this month, it was the season for break-ups, as two close friends and I found ourselves single again. And suddenly, post break-up, it seems to be the season of new encounters and new men.
Some weeks back, during the phase of utter uncertainty as far as Boy and I were concerned, I happened to catch the eye of a very cute guy on the dance floor of a GB party. There was instant attraction, and we met the following day for coffee - just coffee. And as we talked, I wondered to myself how perfect he seemed - how well put-together, how cute, how smart, how sexy, and how very much connected to Bombay, unlike a certain long distance (ex) boyfriend. Since the break-up, I've wondered about him again, and we've planned a date soon. I'm intrigued and interested in him - my first official date after the break-up.
And then, on Christmas eve, I bumped into the Cute Doc again. As usual, we got along famously, we boogeyed on the dance floor, we joked about stilly stuff, we exchanged notes on the GRE exam. And as I was a bit tipsy, after one steamy dance ended, I followed him inside the loo, pushed him up against the wall and kissed him. While it felt nice to remember the old flames - "Nostalgia", he said raspily, after I got my tongue out of his mouth - I thought to myself: why on earth have we never dated? The first time Cute Doc and I met, we got along so well and had such great chemistry, we headed to my place for fun - we never had the conventional date. So this time around, a couple days after the party, I called and asked him out - for a proper date. When I was done with my fumbling, he happily accepted, and we're on track for some time later this week.
And finally there's the man from TinselTown, who I met online at a chat room. Older, yes. But also cute and smart. We've both recently stepped out from relationships, and he joked that we must bitch about our exes when we get together. That was his way of asking me out on a date. So I said yes, and we should catch up later this week, or early the next.
When I told SnowWhite's Stepmother this afternoon over lunch that I was going to play the field now, and not get hung up on any one guy till I knew where I was going, he replied, "When have you not played the field?"
But that's not really right here. I may have been seeing a lot of guys for sex (hell, there's this married guy I know who's arranging some group sex next week!) but I haven't really dated men at the same time. Not since my stint in Delhi, and that was way too complicated for words! This time, though, I've reasoned:
1. Cute Party Guy may be gorgeous and I may have kept in touch with him all this while, but at the end of the day, we've just had one proper date, so there's nothing exclusive here, really, and I can do what I want, when I'm not seeing him.
2. Cute Doc is sweet and great, but hell, it's probably just going to be a great momentary fling, since I'm planning to study abroad, so there's no reason why he should complain.
3. TinselTown man may be nice too, but what the hell, everyone dates simultaneously... at least until they're sure of what or who they want.
And I'm not sure. I thought I was, at one point of time, but then not anymore. So it's up to me then, to just... play my way around, feel around the crevices and make up my mind. It's raining men right now, or so it seems, and for once I don't mind getting soaked!
Sunday, December 24, 2006
I Saw Daddy Kissing Santa Claus...
I Saw Daddy Kissing Santa Claus...
So I get all happy and high every year when Christmas comes knocking, and I'm excited cuz we have this great party planned tonight at the Guppie's place. Thought I'd write a suitable christmasy post, but then changed my mind and decided to collect some XXXmas eye candy instead. So here goes...
So I get all happy and high every year when Christmas comes knocking, and I'm excited cuz we have this great party planned tonight at the Guppie's place. Thought I'd write a suitable christmasy post, but then changed my mind and decided to collect some XXXmas eye candy instead. So here goes...
Thursday, December 21, 2006
Cooling My Heels
Cooling My Heels
The days since my break-up, I've gone down the predictable path of being a Break-up Boy Slut. In the past four days, I've had sex five times. Mindless, brainless fun with loads of chemistry and smiles and deliberate attempts to get the guy out of my place asap after orgasm. I've gone on a couple of dates with some cute guys with some cute smiles and I've been talking to those migratory foreign birds who arrive in Mumbai every December.
And I've been chatting with this other migratory bird who seems so perfect. All smiles and all chemistry and all sex appeal. I'm a bit overwhelmed, or at least I was, before I gave myself my early morning pep talk. It goes like this, a cute li'l ditty sung in a Busta Rhymes beat, complete with finger noddin' Black Gu-url Style:
Sex and Dating is the key
Nothing else will do for me!
I'm not going to get stuck in another relationship. Not till I'm more clear about my life. The Study plans are still on, despite the break-up, and my career needs to get in shape. And no more migratory birds for me, no way. I can deal with the penguins here in Mumbai, but not those stupid squawking birds who promise heaven and sky and then fly, fly away.
***
I've wondered what went wrong with us, and frankly I still don't know. He says, he doesn't either. Maybe it just wasn't meant to be. Maybe we just burnt up too bright, too fast, and it just wasn't to be. I felt that he never prioritised us enough in his life, even though it was replete with his familial and work problems... and now he says I'm right. Last night, I met him online and he told me he's received my Christmas-cum-Anniversary parcel (I'd mailed it before the break-up) and he cried on reading the cards, and told me how Karma loves the doggy treats I bought for him, and how he misses us... I tried to be all cold and said that it's a pity he didn't miss us enough when we were still together.
What I don't get is: why the f*&k is he saying all this now?! Sin says he's just a prick, and SnowWhite's Stepmother says he was never good for me. The good part, though, is that all that incessant listening to Gloria Gaynor has at least lifted my spirits: if you thought I'm moping around, thinking of my lost love, you'd be sorely mistaken. I'm loving working, joking and chatting with my friends, making Christmas and New Year plans, dating cute guys, and going out with the family (who's in town for the holidays).
Now I hold my head up high...
And you see me, somebody new...
I'm not that chained up little person still in love with you...
And so you felt like dropping in and just expect me to be free
Now I'm saving all my loving for someone who's loving me...!
But of course... much, much later. Back to the ditty:
Sex and Dating is the key
Nothing else will do for me!
The days since my break-up, I've gone down the predictable path of being a Break-up Boy Slut. In the past four days, I've had sex five times. Mindless, brainless fun with loads of chemistry and smiles and deliberate attempts to get the guy out of my place asap after orgasm. I've gone on a couple of dates with some cute guys with some cute smiles and I've been talking to those migratory foreign birds who arrive in Mumbai every December.
And I've been chatting with this other migratory bird who seems so perfect. All smiles and all chemistry and all sex appeal. I'm a bit overwhelmed, or at least I was, before I gave myself my early morning pep talk. It goes like this, a cute li'l ditty sung in a Busta Rhymes beat, complete with finger noddin' Black Gu-url Style:
Sex and Dating is the key
Nothing else will do for me!
I'm not going to get stuck in another relationship. Not till I'm more clear about my life. The Study plans are still on, despite the break-up, and my career needs to get in shape. And no more migratory birds for me, no way. I can deal with the penguins here in Mumbai, but not those stupid squawking birds who promise heaven and sky and then fly, fly away.
***
I've wondered what went wrong with us, and frankly I still don't know. He says, he doesn't either. Maybe it just wasn't meant to be. Maybe we just burnt up too bright, too fast, and it just wasn't to be. I felt that he never prioritised us enough in his life, even though it was replete with his familial and work problems... and now he says I'm right. Last night, I met him online and he told me he's received my Christmas-cum-Anniversary parcel (I'd mailed it before the break-up) and he cried on reading the cards, and told me how Karma loves the doggy treats I bought for him, and how he misses us... I tried to be all cold and said that it's a pity he didn't miss us enough when we were still together.
What I don't get is: why the f*&k is he saying all this now?! Sin says he's just a prick, and SnowWhite's Stepmother says he was never good for me. The good part, though, is that all that incessant listening to Gloria Gaynor has at least lifted my spirits: if you thought I'm moping around, thinking of my lost love, you'd be sorely mistaken. I'm loving working, joking and chatting with my friends, making Christmas and New Year plans, dating cute guys, and going out with the family (who's in town for the holidays).
Now I hold my head up high...
And you see me, somebody new...
I'm not that chained up little person still in love with you...
And so you felt like dropping in and just expect me to be free
Now I'm saving all my loving for someone who's loving me...!
But of course... much, much later. Back to the ditty:
Sex and Dating is the key
Nothing else will do for me!
Tuesday, December 19, 2006
Closetalk-Boy
Closetalk-Boy
(December 29, 2005-December 15, 2006)
It's strange being single again. I thought I'd post some song lyrics here - maybe Don't Go Breaking My Heart, or even I Will Survive (god knows my flatmate is tired of hearing me play that song over and over again), but I thought, everybody already knows I'm 'histrionic', courtesy the last post, so there's really no point in being that extra OTT, is there?
Suffice to say: it didn't work out. It hasn't been working out for almost a month now, and I've been trying to hope it does. But we had a conversation the other day, and I realized I'm not ready to keep on waiting like this, hoping for some miracle. Suffice to say: it feels strange being single again.
(December 29, 2005-December 15, 2006)
It's strange being single again. I thought I'd post some song lyrics here - maybe Don't Go Breaking My Heart, or even I Will Survive (god knows my flatmate is tired of hearing me play that song over and over again), but I thought, everybody already knows I'm 'histrionic', courtesy the last post, so there's really no point in being that extra OTT, is there?
Suffice to say: it didn't work out. It hasn't been working out for almost a month now, and I've been trying to hope it does. But we had a conversation the other day, and I realized I'm not ready to keep on waiting like this, hoping for some miracle. Suffice to say: it feels strange being single again.
Thursday, December 14, 2006
Yea, yea, so I'm a Drama Queen. D-uh?!
Yea, yea, so I'm a Drama Queen. D-uh?!
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Tuesday, December 12, 2006
It's A Bombay Rainbow Over Goa!
It's A Bombay Rainbow Over Goa!
It was Goa over the weekend, a loooooong weekend to hang out with pals, soothe the frayed nerves and retrain the ole flirt techniques. So CT hops on the bus with Diamond Choker Diva (Baccha, no more!), SnowWhite's Stepmother and Gupshup, and almost dies of the ensuing backache and headache, but manages to land in Mapusa in one piece nevertheless. The goal for the week: Anjuna and Baga and cute foreign gay men.
Of course, I'd already elucidated in an earlier post, how the hot gay firang men in Goa head for cover whenever CT is in the vicinity, and the situation was much the same this time around. So while we all drooled at the guy in red shorts and chiselled abs with the Microsoft backpack on his very well sculpted back, and the cute furry Israeli guy sunning himself on the beach with his wife, all of our fervent prayers could not get Microsoft man to stumble and fall on top of us, or drown the Israeli's cute wife. All of which leads me to Hypothesis 1: It's actually easier to sleep with hot gay firang men in good ole Bombay, than it is in supposedly libido-strung morally-deficient Goa - us morally-deficient gay Bombay boys didn't get any candy in Goa. *sigh*
Then, there's also Hypothesis 2, which was strung together after consultations with the rest of the boys: The online gay community in Bombay seems to be shrinking in variety and spread. It's usually the same guys night after night who come online, with the same pick-up lines and the same pictures, and the only new elements happen to be visiting foreigners or visiting NRIs. Suddenly, there's a spurt of gay NRIs - something to be expected, I suppose, every December. The new breed of Migratory Birds.
Regardless of theories and hypotheses, the boys had FUN. Breakfast (rather, brunch) at the most awesome places by the ocean, beer and more beer till we shifted to suitably pansy breesers, and plenty of rave nights to bond over. It's clear that the gay boys in Goa have a horrible deal, given the utter lack of places to hang out at, and all of this suddenly makes GB parties appear the coolest shindigs this side of the Big Apple. While SS and I were crooning godawful karaoke at Paradise, we were woefully aware that Velocity in amchi Mumbai must have been rocking at that same time to the strains of gay Shakiras and their ample hips that always lie. Aa, well, no matter - we sang I Will Survive in a way it's never been sung before (and hopefully, never will again!) and we got tremendous applause from the assembled old gay men, ugly gay men, old straight couples. (You get the point.)
But we were at our element as far as beach gear is concerned. That's where CT slips on his teeny-tiny black trunks and proceeds to cup his groin and parade up and down the Baga road. That's where DCD drapes on a pink sarong with a pink sleeveless, sashays up and down the beach a la Ursula Andress, dances like a gigolo on the steps of the beach shack when they played Shakira, and promptly gets invited for "a private party we're having later tonight". That's where SS suddenly looks dynamite in his Posh Spice pout and oversized Guess glasses, and the two of us get into rather Slutty Diva Poses on the beach, right after we shoot a spreadeagled SS in a snap that would get even me aroused! And that's where a finicky Gupshup tosses and turns his head angrily, whining that none of our snaps do him justice, till he is finally mollified by a side profile under the rainbow umbrella that looks very Greta Garbo.
Cyndi Lauper was right: girls do just wanna have fun! And we do it soooo well!
It was Goa over the weekend, a loooooong weekend to hang out with pals, soothe the frayed nerves and retrain the ole flirt techniques. So CT hops on the bus with Diamond Choker Diva (Baccha, no more!), SnowWhite's Stepmother and Gupshup, and almost dies of the ensuing backache and headache, but manages to land in Mapusa in one piece nevertheless. The goal for the week: Anjuna and Baga and cute foreign gay men.
Of course, I'd already elucidated in an earlier post, how the hot gay firang men in Goa head for cover whenever CT is in the vicinity, and the situation was much the same this time around. So while we all drooled at the guy in red shorts and chiselled abs with the Microsoft backpack on his very well sculpted back, and the cute furry Israeli guy sunning himself on the beach with his wife, all of our fervent prayers could not get Microsoft man to stumble and fall on top of us, or drown the Israeli's cute wife. All of which leads me to Hypothesis 1: It's actually easier to sleep with hot gay firang men in good ole Bombay, than it is in supposedly libido-strung morally-deficient Goa - us morally-deficient gay Bombay boys didn't get any candy in Goa. *sigh*
Then, there's also Hypothesis 2, which was strung together after consultations with the rest of the boys: The online gay community in Bombay seems to be shrinking in variety and spread. It's usually the same guys night after night who come online, with the same pick-up lines and the same pictures, and the only new elements happen to be visiting foreigners or visiting NRIs. Suddenly, there's a spurt of gay NRIs - something to be expected, I suppose, every December. The new breed of Migratory Birds.
Regardless of theories and hypotheses, the boys had FUN. Breakfast (rather, brunch) at the most awesome places by the ocean, beer and more beer till we shifted to suitably pansy breesers, and plenty of rave nights to bond over. It's clear that the gay boys in Goa have a horrible deal, given the utter lack of places to hang out at, and all of this suddenly makes GB parties appear the coolest shindigs this side of the Big Apple. While SS and I were crooning godawful karaoke at Paradise, we were woefully aware that Velocity in amchi Mumbai must have been rocking at that same time to the strains of gay Shakiras and their ample hips that always lie. Aa, well, no matter - we sang I Will Survive in a way it's never been sung before (and hopefully, never will again!) and we got tremendous applause from the assembled old gay men, ugly gay men, old straight couples. (You get the point.)
But we were at our element as far as beach gear is concerned. That's where CT slips on his teeny-tiny black trunks and proceeds to cup his groin and parade up and down the Baga road. That's where DCD drapes on a pink sarong with a pink sleeveless, sashays up and down the beach a la Ursula Andress, dances like a gigolo on the steps of the beach shack when they played Shakira, and promptly gets invited for "a private party we're having later tonight". That's where SS suddenly looks dynamite in his Posh Spice pout and oversized Guess glasses, and the two of us get into rather Slutty Diva Poses on the beach, right after we shoot a spreadeagled SS in a snap that would get even me aroused! And that's where a finicky Gupshup tosses and turns his head angrily, whining that none of our snaps do him justice, till he is finally mollified by a side profile under the rainbow umbrella that looks very Greta Garbo.
Cyndi Lauper was right: girls do just wanna have fun! And we do it soooo well!
Saturday, December 02, 2006
The Date Diet
The Date Diet
The question you're most likely to come across in a gay chatroom (after the all-too-regular "do you have place?") is "bored and horny?" That signifies: you're ready for action. Not a week later, not three days later, not even later that night - the buzzword is now. And that's quite exciting in its own right. The other day, however, while chatting with a cute investment banker based in South Bombay, he asks me how I usually prefer to have my dates.
For a second, I'm stumped. I 'm wondering whether I should just be carnal and say something like "Sex sunny side up, coffee on the side, conversation brief", but then decide against it. This guy is one of those who don't get around much - and my frankness might well cause the poor cloistered fellow heartburn. So I play safe, and ask him what he means. His reply: lunch/dinner?
Whew. Safe.
But this is actually a question I haven't dissected before, so I think for a minute, before giving him my answer: coffee. Coffee, I say, is the safest option for a first date, followed by lunch and then dinner, last of all.
This flummoxes the staid investment banker. From what he's told me, I 've gathered that a lot of his dates have met him for a movie, and attempted to neck in the dark hall - something which I find a bit icky, really - though I shouldn't, given my record of exhibitionism in the past. So, anyhow, he asks me to explain my reasoning. And I launch into my flowchat stream of Logic. (capital L).
Coffee is best, because... It's a neutral venue, got bright lighting so that you can see what the blind date (not-so-blind, if you've seen his snap online before agreeing to meet), and best of all: has flexible timings. If the guy is a complete zilch, you can a) beg off coffee, saying you got an urgent call from work and you're wanted back right away, or b) be a bit more considerate and gulp your coffee down in five minutes and rush out of the door. Or, if things start going well, you can take your time licking the cream off the rim, look longingly into his eyes, touch his fingers 'accidentally' when he reaches for the sugar cubes, and suggest that you do something else after your looooong coffee date reaches its end.
Lunch is next, because... The timings are less flexible than for coffee. You can still come up with the 'have work must run' excuse, but that has to be used as soon as you see him and not later. And, if you do decide to stick around, the coffee-in-five-minutes thing doesn't work. You have to make more of an effort at conversation here, though, because there's all that food to eat. The good part is, if it doesn't go the way you'd like it to go, you can still use the 'have lots of work' stunt to run as soon as you pay the bill - strictly, Dutch, by the way.
By this time, I'm sure than the investment banker thinks he's netted a Complete Professional, but then I'm beyond caring in my fervour, and carry on with my Logic...
Dinner is worst, because... There's that awful thing called Obligation. Plus, there's the time factor. Not so easy to duck out of the dinner thing altogether, or convert it into a coffee thing instead of a dinner thing - not unless you're a whiz at polite dismissals. Dinner is a longer deal than lunch or coffee - and the work excuse just cannot make an appearance here. Things are that much more convoluted, so you have to spend at least an hour with him. And then there's the question of "what now?" after the meal is over. The question is that much more loaded and ominous than it ever was with coffee or even lunch. That's when you gulp... and wonder what you're going to do.
CT: "So, yea, coffee is definitely best for a first date!"
Investment Banker, after two minutes of cyber-silence: "You're mad!"
Huh?!
The question you're most likely to come across in a gay chatroom (after the all-too-regular "do you have place?") is "bored and horny?" That signifies: you're ready for action. Not a week later, not three days later, not even later that night - the buzzword is now. And that's quite exciting in its own right. The other day, however, while chatting with a cute investment banker based in South Bombay, he asks me how I usually prefer to have my dates.
For a second, I'm stumped. I 'm wondering whether I should just be carnal and say something like "Sex sunny side up, coffee on the side, conversation brief", but then decide against it. This guy is one of those who don't get around much - and my frankness might well cause the poor cloistered fellow heartburn. So I play safe, and ask him what he means. His reply: lunch/dinner?
Whew. Safe.
But this is actually a question I haven't dissected before, so I think for a minute, before giving him my answer: coffee. Coffee, I say, is the safest option for a first date, followed by lunch and then dinner, last of all.
This flummoxes the staid investment banker. From what he's told me, I 've gathered that a lot of his dates have met him for a movie, and attempted to neck in the dark hall - something which I find a bit icky, really - though I shouldn't, given my record of exhibitionism in the past. So, anyhow, he asks me to explain my reasoning. And I launch into my flowchat stream of Logic. (capital L).
Coffee is best, because... It's a neutral venue, got bright lighting so that you can see what the blind date (not-so-blind, if you've seen his snap online before agreeing to meet), and best of all: has flexible timings. If the guy is a complete zilch, you can a) beg off coffee, saying you got an urgent call from work and you're wanted back right away, or b) be a bit more considerate and gulp your coffee down in five minutes and rush out of the door. Or, if things start going well, you can take your time licking the cream off the rim, look longingly into his eyes, touch his fingers 'accidentally' when he reaches for the sugar cubes, and suggest that you do something else after your looooong coffee date reaches its end.
Lunch is next, because... The timings are less flexible than for coffee. You can still come up with the 'have work must run' excuse, but that has to be used as soon as you see him and not later. And, if you do decide to stick around, the coffee-in-five-minutes thing doesn't work. You have to make more of an effort at conversation here, though, because there's all that food to eat. The good part is, if it doesn't go the way you'd like it to go, you can still use the 'have lots of work' stunt to run as soon as you pay the bill - strictly, Dutch, by the way.
By this time, I'm sure than the investment banker thinks he's netted a Complete Professional, but then I'm beyond caring in my fervour, and carry on with my Logic...
Dinner is worst, because... There's that awful thing called Obligation. Plus, there's the time factor. Not so easy to duck out of the dinner thing altogether, or convert it into a coffee thing instead of a dinner thing - not unless you're a whiz at polite dismissals. Dinner is a longer deal than lunch or coffee - and the work excuse just cannot make an appearance here. Things are that much more convoluted, so you have to spend at least an hour with him. And then there's the question of "what now?" after the meal is over. The question is that much more loaded and ominous than it ever was with coffee or even lunch. That's when you gulp... and wonder what you're going to do.
CT: "So, yea, coffee is definitely best for a first date!"
Investment Banker, after two minutes of cyber-silence: "You're mad!"
Huh?!
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