Is it a Bird? A Plane? No, it's... SuperCloset!

Is it a Bird? A Plane? No, it's... SuperCloset!

Before losing my top on the Blog Ban by the Indian government, I was going to post about Superman Returns, which I saw last night at a decrepit South Bombay theatre. Horrible sound system and seats, but all that was more than compensated for by the movie. And yes, if you want to barf now, go right ahead, but I'm not changing my mind: Superman Returns rocks! And Routh is a SuperStar!



And for all those geriatric dumbfcuks out there who think Chris Reeves was hotter: puh-leeeeeezze, get a libido! With all due respect to the Original Alien, he may have been cute for his day and age, but if you just compare him down there to the Greek God up there, it's clear that Routh has the goods where it counts!



So, admittedly, this is going to be a Slurpy post. I'm going to slurp on and on about Brandon: his eyes, his smile, the way he amply fills out the blue tights, and how beautifully proportionate his red bulge is. O, God! and that chest. That chest and that insignia is enough to get a grown man swooning. (Which is basically what I'm doing right now.) Though the movie failed to live up to its expectations, box-office wise in the US, Playgirl magazine has offered Brandon $500,000 to expose his Buns of Steel. The really cute part is, how his publicist says he's a good li'l Midwestern boy and not very 'comfortable' with nudity - grrrrrrooowwf! All that gorgeous humility on such a gorgeous boy is breathtaking. ;-)



Admittedly, I went into this movie with loads of inhibitions in my head. Almost everyone who'd seen it had warned me that it was overhyped. Midnight's Child cackled on the phone, "He should be called Superbaby, and not Superman! He's crying all the time!" And though I argued myself hoarse, that maybe the cry-baby impression was there simply because director Bryan Singer (of X-Men fame, another sexy hunk movie!) is gay, no one bought the argument. Even the newspaper reviews proclaimed: SR is not an action movie about Supe saving the world, it's about Super Trooper in blue tights crying after his lost love.

;-)

So, I made the jokes. Superman goes to save Metropolis, and what would happen if he gave a Super-Sneeze, eh? Bye bye, Lois Lane and city she lives in! Then there was the scene where Supe flies away after not kissing Lois: imagine how horny he must have been then - I guess that's what you call... a Super-jerk!

But apart from the silly jokes, it was a movie that I really liked. Not for its cerebral skills, but hell, if you're in the mood for a fun movie, a taste for popcorn and time to kill, head over to the chindi (Bombay slang for tiny/ miserly) old-world hall I went to, and spend 2 1/2 hours in the AC. And drool.

Mush Moment #1: Of course, it has to be the scene where Supe wafts up feather-light with Lois in the sky. That's been one of the all-time romantic moments ever since Superman movies were made, and Singer uses it so brilliantly here that even the straightest straight man goes oooooooohhhhhh! like a 13-year old gal with pigtails. Ask me. I watched the movie with one. *grin*

Moment that gave me Sadistic Satisfaction: Directly after the Mush Moment, actually. Lois the Hussy brazenly pushes her face forward to kiss Supe, and my favourite man in tights pulls away. Awwwww... that little scene warmed the cock-les of my heart. I love Bryan Singer.

So, this morning, when I spoke to the Boy on our daily long-distance phone call, I told him, his extra-corny boyfriend would henceforth add SuperBoy to his already-long list of nicknames, and would hunt for a blue thong with the S insignia upfront, to be ready and waiting for his next trip down to Bombay.

Boy's reply was standard: "You're nuts!"

So was mine: "You're super!"

Finger!

Barely a few days back, I used this symbol to express my anger at the arseholes who bombed Bombay.

Today, it's my answer to the arseholes who run the government in Delhi.

You screwballs, you just can't get away with removing our freedom of speech because of what you perceive as 'security concerns'! Blogs are not the cause of the Mumbai blasts, nor of the so-called religious extremism. You wanna act tough? Shut down the Hindu shakhas, shut down the Muslim madrasas, and then act tough.

All you get from the closet here is a vigorous BITCHSLAP!

Hangover

Announcing the Talking Closets Nobel for anyone who discovers the Hangover Cure.

I need that elixir badly even now, a day after an all-too tumultuous GB party. The venue was Velocity, and Closetalk was Sloshed. Inundated. Drowning. Happy as a monk who has had sex after eighty-fcuking years. Come hell and high water. Boy calls me his Bevda Boyfriend, and I feel as if I finally lived up to all the hype.

All without touching a drop of liquor at the actual party, by the way. (Except a coupla glugs of beer maybe from SnowWhite's Stepmother, but that's piddling!)

For me, the fun started at 9. 30 p.m. Get the bath water ready, get the shirt out - a sexy number in pink with tiny pink flowers, which actually looks much better than it sounds! - matching red socks and ultra-low waist jeans teamed up with a red belt. And then I decide that it's time to start getting a bit high. CT searches his fast-depleted liquor stock and comes up with a bottle of Old Monk with some 1/6 th still left in it. O well, since no one except me likes the stuff, I may as well finish it off, I think, and so starts the adventure. Switch on the stereo and boogy to Hung Up!, swish of neat Monk, head into the shower, swish, come out of the shower, swish, debate whether or not to shave and decide on the stubble look, swish, put on shirt, swish... you get the idea. By the time I'm taking the shortcut to the ATM to pick up moolah for the party cover charge, I'm dancing on my feet. I get into the cab, and call up Late Kates SS, Gupshup and Penguin, and tell them I'm very, very, VERY drunk. I reach Velocity, the venue of the party, and I call Gupshup, telling him, "You guys - I'm friggin sloshed here! So pleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeaaazzee get here fast, or I'll have my tongue down someone's throat in ten more minutes and then my broken relationship will be on your head!", before dissolving into cackles. Worried silence on the other end!



The rest demands third person narration:

Closetalk stands at the queue, smiling his pearly whites at the cute guys around him. Recognizes Long Nose Guy from the online community they're both a part of, and slides over. Puts an arm around him and smooches him on the cheek, while his boyfriend is right next to him. "You've been a stranger for too long, sexy," purrs Closetalk, even as things get hot under the collar for Long Nose Guy, who's now aware that CT's hands are roving over his ass. "Won't be, anymore," he manages to mutter back, and this pleases CT, who swishes away to get his coupon.

It's a hot, sultry night, and the party is rocking. Dark lights, sexy studs showing off, some dancing, some holding their drinks, some holding their crotches, and Closetalk loves it all. Wonders whether he should get a drink, but then decides to check out the crowd properly first. The Gang are still on their way so there's adequate time left. The 440 watt smile and the perfect teeth do their trick, as do the open shirt buttons exposing the curling chest hair, and CT wades through the crowd, touching, feeling, smiling apologies that meant to be so much more than just apologies. Is that a familiar face? OMG... it's Beret Boy of long, long ago.

BB: "Hey, it's been ages!"

CT: "Hey sexy, you're looking sharp tonight!"

Ok, so he's not looking sharp at all. He's gotten rid of the goatee that I found sexy, and there's no beret on him now. Just a red shirt that spells out wannabe-matador, and a big brass belt that should have been sold away to the ragpicker twenty years ago. But he's man-meat and CT's drunk. So CT purrs some more and drags him onto the dance floor. Of course that's just an excuse to feel him up properly, and CT soon finds that the hairy bastard is quite turned on after some time. But CT's bored by now: a sudden announcement - "I need to pee. Bye!" - and he makes his exit.

The loo is nice. The Velocity loo always was. So CT saunters over to the mirror and makes his call. Delhi Designer Friend is on his way, he says, and then CT switches it off. Some of the guys are looking appreciatively at CT, so those looks and smiles have to be returned. Water splashed on hair and face, shirt and belt adjusted, butt thrust out. Come on suckers, let's have a night to remember is the motto of the evening, as he steps out again.



Time to traverse the disc again, and avoid the area where Beret Boy is. And that's when I bump into DDF who's already there, beer in hand. His second GB party and he hates it, so it's only CT's duty as the gracious host to make sure he enjoys it. Some close dancing, and what could have been a kiss, before it is rudely interrupted by SnowWhite's Stepmother who's reached just in time.

So after delivering a vote of thanks to SS and the Gang who've just saved my relationship, I proceed to hand over all my drink coupons to them. DDF also comes over, and I introduce him to them, who pronounce upon his departure that he was 'cute'. Much frenzied dancing ensues, though they neglect to play Shakira's Hips Don't Lie. And that's when CT spies Hotel Guy dancing with Older Married Guy nearby. Both of them greet CT with hugs and kisses (cheek 2 cheek only), and OMG even rubs hand across CT's ass. Aaa, well, OMGs must be allowed their indulgences at times - and when you're flying higher than a US spaces ship, you're more inclined to like some molesting in the dark. Hotel Guy grins (soooo cute!) and says that CT looks better in real life than in his online profile, and CT makes a mental note to have new snaps taken.

BUMP! And that's Cute Doc, looking even cuter tonight with his new rimless glasses. He says he's seeing someone now, and CT grimaces when he realities that it's Snooty Snoots, a friend of Nature Boy's, who he never liked. So out comes the artificial smile, and CT gushes, "I'm soooooo happy for you, da-ling! How long have you guys been together?" Two months, comes the answer, and looks like they're heading to form an LDR as well, since Cute Doc is hoping to leave the country for his PhD soon. Sooooooooooo, CT wishes them all the luck, kisses Cute Doc wantonly right next to his lips, doesn't resist using his tongue a bit, gets a playful whack on the ass from the doc, and saunters away.

A glug of beer from SS: Who's the next cute guy around?

So, by the time the clock strikes one-fifteen, the footmen are far from turning into mice, the stallions are still prancing about with their ponies, and the Penguin, thankfully, doesn't turn back into a pumpkin. Closetalk, on his part, is playing the Diva Twinkle Toes avatar to the hilt, and groans aloud in anguish when the gay boys are herded out of the disc. DDF has disappeared, so CT's chastity is very much intact. And best of all, the beautiful uplifting buzz has still not abandoned him. In his head, he keeps on hearing:

Ek gilasi, do gilasi,
Teen gilasi, chaar...
I'm buzzing, I-I-I'm buzzing....

- interspersed with Nazia's melodious Disco Deewane.... aha!...

Time to listen to Madonna now...

Indiana Bones in Bombay

Indiana Bones in Bombay

Was returning home this evening from work in the Back of Beyond, namely Vashi, and that's when I realised that in the course of my sexual pursuits, I've been on a veritable Mumbai darshan! Seen in that context, it gives a whole new meaning to the term, Daddy Looooong Legs. *grin*



So, while chug-chugging back in the train now, I thought back to my hitch-hiking/ back-packing/ bed-roaming days, and here's the list:

South Bombay:
1. Cuffe Parade - On the fifteenth floor of a high rise apartment over the ocean, and the cute foreigner on the second floor of the Taj Residency. Not bad at all.
2. Colaba - Everywhere, from the crumbling old mansion to the Gordon House to the Taj Mahal Hotel. Rather, everyone!
3. Fort - A quiet little office just behind Flora Fountain, Bombay's second-most well-known tourist destination, after Gateway.
4. Marine Drive - A cute South Indian guy in a lovely apartment off the ocean, and we made love near the open window. There was also the Sindhi broker in his glitzy yet tasteless Chowpatty penthouse.
5. Peddar Road - Italian on Diplomatic Drive who was o-so secretive about his identity, and then Gujju in another flashy apartment. I fell in love with the Italian's home: filled with paintings and drawings and sculpture.

Exceptions: Churchgate and Tardeo. Dunno how I missed those!

Central Bombay:
1. Worli - Another sea-facing apartment opposite a nice Chinese food joint. Wish I had more time to enjoy the view, though.
2. Lower Parel - Mmmm.... ad executives, media people, copywriters, investment bankers, mill workers,... the works, baby!
3. Parel - I actually had sex in a chawl here once. Unbelievable. I was more interested in the overall design and structure of the chawl than having sex, and thepoor fellow got a bit discouraged. ;-)
4. Dadar - Only in Dadar West, though, not the East. How different could it be, now, anyway?

Western Suburbs:
1. Bandra West - There are of course the usual suspects here: Hill Road, Linking Road, the many streets parallel to Linking Road, Carter Road, Pali Hill, Bandstand... no, cross that last one out, not Bandstand.
2. Khar West - Used to stay there sometimes on weekends with my bro, and sometimes I used to head out for 'walks'... *secret grin*
3. Santa Cruz West - One sultry afternoon, a pick-up from the station, and we drove to his house in a leafy neighbourhood. Two hours later, I headed back for the station, quite satisfied.
4. Ville Parle West - Near Barista, there lives a delicious dessert named... *wicked grin*
5. Juhu - The most special of them all. Boy and I spent three fantabulous days at the Juhu Sea Princess, wishing they would never end. Everytime I pass by the place, I text message him from my phone, telling him I love him. ;-)
6. Andheri West - Only 7 Bungalows and Lokhandwalla, am afraid. Never got too close to Four Bungalows. Remember getting devoured by mosquitoes one night, when I stayed over at one guy's place. *sigh*
7. Andheri East - That's where most of Gay Bombay stays, if chat rooms are anything to go by. So I've done some nice guys here, and also some complete idiots who I've avoided afterwards. Most lived close to the international airport, and most advertise for firangs online.
8. Jogeshwari -A threesome with two Parsis. Hilarious.
9. Goregaon - He was goooooooood! Almost makes up for his being from UP. *evil grin*
10. Kandivali - Met Goregaon Guy for our first session here, at his friend's place.

Back of Beyond:
1. Vashi - The bubble went bust. Palm Beach Road is a poor imitation of Marine Drive, and what I got was a poor imitation of Good Sex.
2. Nerul - Kinky. Stripped in the open, with the sea behind me, and took pictures. This is also the time which engendered The Famous Pic in Shorts in my chatroom profile. ;-)

(Intrepid Indiana Bones folds his map)

The answer to the Arseholes who bombed Bombay!!!

The answer to the Arseholes who bombed Bombay!!!



Yesterday, I was chatting on the phone with SnowWhite's Stepmother and telling him how apprehensive I'd felt, riding back home much later at night on the train. That's when SS giggles on the phone and replies, "Da-ling, I'm not at all worried for you. If a terrorist threatened you, you'd probably distract him with a blowjob!"

I giggled. True, I'd do that if he were a bomb-shell (Kashmiri, preferably!); but then I'd also probably get into S&M mode and bite his fcuking balls off.

This is going to be Soppy

This is going to be Soppy

Just got off the phone after a lamba 25-minute chat with Boy, and I feel as if I could leap over the moon. Would hate to be like a Mean Married Monster, ala the Insane Bitch, but then, I can't help feeling like this. That's because at the end, over and over, I realise that he's by far the best guy for me. There have been so many times when I've regretted giving the old heave-ho to Ex With Paunch simply because I wasn't really that into him physically: in the depths of depression, I used to tell myself that, so what if the sex wasn't great, and he had a paunch, and I was fooling around with cartloads of guys behind his back, at least there was the security of knowing that Ex With Paunch loved me and would be there for me.



Or I would wonder where on earth I went wrong with NatureBoy, if I should have been more understanding of 'work hassles', and was I really that All-Pervasive a boyfriend in his life that he needed 'space' from me? And I kept on torturing myself over and over again that maybe it was all MY fault.

Everyone says that to himself/ herself at some point of his/ her life, I suppose. There were so many chats with my friends: how important is it to compromise? How important is it to change the way I love? My friends know how I love: I love in totality. I love with all my heart, and I make him the centre of my world, and I expect to be made the centre of his. And that has led to a lot of bruising in the past. Perhaps, all those bruises were necessary. To get to this point. To understand the value of Space. To understand, without essentially giving up the way I love, because that is quite impossible for me. Work timings and schedules are a problem for which I would perhaps have not had the patience to deal with earlier. I would have belittled them as inconsequential. And yet, when I'm faced with them myself now, I realise how important it is to not make a mountain of every molehill, and a demigod out of every boyfriend. It's important to just be human, and believe in human frailty. Because that makes you live and experience human love.



And there are those things that make it all worthwhile. Like the laughs and jokes that I share with Boy, that I couldn't have with either Ex With Paunch, or NatureBoy. Like the way I know he is generous to a fault. Like the way I know he rushes to help people wherever he can. Like the way we gel when we burn up the dance floor together. Like the way, yes, I shall say it, we have fun even with cyber sex. ;-) And like the way that I know that I can be honest with him about everything under the sun, the way I feel, the way I fear, and I know that he will be there for me, as he has been every day so far since we met. And like the way I know I don't need to hold back from loving him, lest he thinks I'm intruding on his 'space'. There's been a lot of scope for mistakes and slipping up here, as there always is, when there's a relationship at stake, but somehow, so far, I've had the maturity of not completely giving into my demons. And when I have felt miserable and whiny, I've been blessed by some great friends to unwind with, rather than showering all my manufactured misery on the man that I love.

When push comes to shove, I'm just a Drama Queen. A Queen called Samantha. ;-)

Clucking over Coffee

Clucking over Coffee

Coffee at the Barista opposite VT, and I was chatting with my friend Midnight's Child, who happens to be a year younger to me, though much ahead of me in terms of maturity, I feel at times. Except this one - we were talking about Prominent Activist who works in her office. Of course, she knows about PA because he doesn't take the pains to hide his sexuality from the people at his workplace and there's a kind of acceptance about it there, and she knows that I know him through my own Rainbow Network, but he doesn't know that MC and I know each other. Complicated? It gets worse.

MC, bitching about the coffee: "I hate all Baristas! I told you we should have gone to the Cafe Coffee Day instead!"

CT, ignoring all and concentrating on the black forest on his plate: "So what's new these days?"

MC, grinning mischievously, "Well, there's a lot of gossip about your Friend PA at the office!"

CT, puzzled: "Really? Why should they care? I thought PA is very open with the fact that he's gay and all? I thought he's generally well-liked there."

MC nods head: "O, he's liked and all, but there's still loads of gossiping. How he's gay and all that. You can never stop the wagging tongues."

CT laughs: "True. You're wagging yours here, and I'm not stopping it!"

MC, unfazed: "And he surfs gay porn and all!"

CT, stunned: "I'm sure he does not! PA's hardly the kind to surf porn in the office!"

MC shrugs: "Well, the guy who used to sit next to me has a vantage view of his computer screen, even though he thinks he can't be watched, and he says that he's seen some guys' pics on the comp. So....!"

CT shakes head: "Well, maybe he was just looking at some gay lifestyle site or something. Hell, it may not even be a gay site - maybe it was an ordinary guys' lifestyle or clothing site or something! Ever thought about that?"

MC pouts and takes a sip of her bitter cold coffee: "I suppose that could be the case."

Well, after that admission, I teased MC and called her a 'homophobe', to which she took great offence (in her typical MC way: "I hang around with you, don't I?"). But then, when you think about it, that's what most straight people look at gay sites as. It doesn't matter whether it's a lifestyle or a clothes mag, or even an agony aunt thingy. If it's 'gay', it's gotta be 'porn'.

And to an extent, you can't even blame them too much. Even if you open gay.com on your site, who in their right minds would believe you when you say that you're actually reading the cover story on gay priests protesting in midtown America? They won't, for the simple reason that, other than the teeny text portion on the screen, you have this looooong pic of a seminaked guy at the right side, an overhead bar that screams out WATCH LIVE GUYS AT HOME, and various assorted ads on the other side for everything from penis pumps to viagra.

Ummm... what text?

In Chennai and Delhi, when I used to visit cybercafes, the single most important reason why I usually cruised on indiatimes.com, despite the awfully ugly men available there, was the fact that there were NO such huge banners proclaiming HOMO to the rest of the world. It made your daily gay viewing palatable to the world at large, unless you were caught jacking off in the cybercafe - which I've actually witnessed firsthand (excuse the pun) in Chennai once.

;-)

And then, there's the other side of the story: the part where you staunchly defend the fact that you're gay and your freedom of expression (and experience) should not be stymied because of a couple of prudes who haven't been laid in centuries. Thats the part of me that argues, if PA was reading a couple of articles from gay.com at office, he very well can, since he's not watching porn or doing anything obscene. He's reading, for God's sake, and that's all.

Before you elect me as the chairperson of GB, however, I must admit that I'm not quite that brave or that outspoken or that militant. And no, I wouldn't surf gay.com myself at the workplace.