Having studied in a boy’s only school for a major part of student life, I would have thought that I will be fine with gays.
I am fine with gays. But I think thats because I don’t know any.
Of course we did have the occasional touching feeling and in some case boys who went about as couples in our school, looking back I think it was more a case of making do with available resources. And like prisoners, when they stepped out of the restrictive situation, everything fell back in the right places and things went where they are meant to go. It seemed like a temporary lapse, nothing more.
Except even now, I shudder when I drop the soap in the bath and bend down to pick it up. Hopefully it will pass with the unavoidable Alzheimer’s that is due to make its presence felt in the next 10 years or so.
Age brings along with it certain mellowness. I would have loved to say wisdom but that seems to be elusive. You tend to recognize that most of your ideals and prejudices were all handed down to you and that you been just chewing someone else’s cud. Being a jerk, I tend to avoid the popular thought that is prevalent just because I can.
I do realize that now it’s all about right of freedom to do what you feel like. I have not problems with that. As long as it’s not my arse on the line, I don’t have any problem who is shagging who.
But by god, am I curious.
I want a gay friend. I have so much to ask.
You do too, don’t you?
That’s the problem when you start patronizing people. You make them into strangers. You might think you are on their side but your very support is the wall that separates you and them. Because in reality, your acceptance doesn’t require any expression. And if that acceptance is there, they would not be feeling like freaks.
Personally I find naked men nasty. Especially if I find one in my bed. Sex would probably be the last thought on my head. Whatever doubts I have had about my sexuality disappeared the day I was introduced to Adv.Anjali in the Debonair magazine in school. I was hooked. Fat bottom girls made my world go round since.
Then came today.
Everyone’s coming out of the closets. Hell, I think there are more people in there than clothes. There are parades. Sexuality is celebrated. It is now shown in mainstream movies.Basically people’s sexuality will soon become a non issue. Its really great.
Nope. You still can’t fuck a goat.
Yes, I know you think that it’s unfair but if you wait maybe a decade longer, we perhaps will get our head around to it. Yes, we do see your point. Yes, we do notice that the goat is really attached to you but somehow it’s not bringing good vibes to me buddy. That’s my food you are fucking.
I really think sexuality should be a non issue. Like the color of peoples skin. I mean, it’s really stupid if you think about it. It’s amazing how it lasted so long as it did. But then stupid ideas have a tendency to stick. Eh, god? You concur?
But for all the gays out there, I know absolutely no one. I mean personally. I have no gay friends. Which is a shame. I do get hit on once in a while. It’s kind of flattering. And I feel very weird when I say that I just want us to be friends. And the sound track in my head is going Man, feel like a woman...
We did have a college friend who was very feminine. Then we realized that he is a bhartanatyam dancer and a real sneaky womanizer. He catches them unaware. They all assume he is gay until too late. Almost like Jaws.
Well the truth is it would really not matter if my friends are straight or gay (why can’t it be straight or zigzag?). The way I am going, I doubt if I have any friends left.
Thing is I believe that a gay friend will be my ticket to finally understanding women. Of course this very inspired thinking came from my assumption that since a gay is a man who likes men, then it stands to reason he will be like a woman.
Brilliant deduction I must say.
Now to find a gay who will hopefully help me with this and will not try and seduce me.
This brings me to the next question:
Can a gay and straight be just friends?
Watch this space for the answer to that question.
Gay? Call me.
Thursday, October 27, 2011
Tuesday, October 11, 2011
I dont do curtain calls
I am not into self analysis.
I love myself a little too much to indulge in such fool hardy pursuits. The hesitance could also have stemmed from previous futile attempts at trying to understand my inner nature by ticking all the relevant boxes in those - Are a real man or How to know if you are satisfying in bed etc. - columns in my sister in law's ample collection of Cosmopolitan magazines.
Yes. I read women magazine when I get a chance. Understanding the enemy is always a good strategy. Isn’t it weird that in men’s magazine we have girlie pictures and in women magazine, they still have girlie pictures. You would have thought otherwise, but no. No wonder there’s a general amount of male bashing going around; women have all turned lesbians.
Anyhow.
The readings from the ticking, which in the end will require some amount of mathematical skill, will be given at the bottom of those articles.
90 - 80: Boy, are you good! Just bronze your dong and declare yourself as a national monument.
80 - 60: You need to work at it. You need to express your desires and bribe the girl into accepting them. No. Blow jobs are not as exciting to her as it is to you.
60 and below: Just go and kill yourself. And while you are about it stop playing with yourself.
Invariably I realized that I was wasting my time finding out things about myself that were not exactly endearing.
I don’t do horoscope either.
Indian horoscopes are not your run of the mill Linda Goodman gushing about how you are the gift to the universe and how perfect you are.
Indian horoscopes are scary.
They make it so by making it appear to you that there’s a whole lot of calculations and enough symbols to give Dan Brown a hard on, going on to arrive at the answers to your puny existence.
Then in the midst of some gibberish that stands for a language that seems to be all but dead, they reveal to you your destiny.
I kind of lost interest when they started talking about some planets in somebody's houses and other such strange things. The only thing closely resembling a planet in my house is my father.
I get it. The logic behind it all. The usual argument of how moon affects tides and how we are 80% water etc. My question is only this.
What’s this big deal about us that we think our destiny is somehow very important to us?
I am scared of horoscope because it probably has nothing nice to say about me. I plan to read mine in my death bed. Just to check which parts came true. That would make an interesting read.
Thing about trying to find out about yourself is like opening your father's diary. You really don’t want to know all what you might find. Life is best lived with as much ignorance as possible. It keeps you in a state of wonder.
But when you do get the masochistic need to give the stick to someone to beat you, you tend to give importance to what others think about you.
Some of the saddest people I know are the ones who are trying their darn best to rise to someone's expectation.
And some of the real bastards are the ones who let them.
Yeah. I know you are reading this. You know where you belong.
Very early in my life I have learnt that if you want to be happy, you should give two hoots about others opinion about you and your action. As long as what you do is not affecting another adversely, I think you have all the right to go ahead and do it.
Others feelings don’t count. How someone feels about your actions is to a large extent based on their own needs. It’s not a bad thing but that’s how it is. Ideally it should not affect you if your partner cheats on you, but it will if it happens, and that feeling of hurt is more about you than about the other. So feelings don’t count when you know you are on the right track.
Hyper sensitive people are leeches. They feed on the desire to be hurt. You can’t win with them. The whole world is against them any way and the sun always shines out of their arse. It’s about their feelings and their actions and their fuck all mind where every other person has to bend themselves backwards to accommodate them.
I don’t mind sensitive people. I think they are just a little bit more fragile than thick skinned rhinos like me.
Suggestion?
Walk away. Don’t put up with it. Let them know that. Of course they will be hurt. But you are giving them what they want anyway. So in some karmic way you are being kind.
I don’t do hyper sensitive. You wouldn’t either. Hell, even sensitives don’t like hyper sensitives.
You like being insulted? Get an opinion.
Like I did. I came to know about this site from this girls blog and it piqued my curiosity.
and this was the result.
Make place girls, Big Mama is in town.
I love myself a little too much to indulge in such fool hardy pursuits. The hesitance could also have stemmed from previous futile attempts at trying to understand my inner nature by ticking all the relevant boxes in those - Are a real man or How to know if you are satisfying in bed etc. - columns in my sister in law's ample collection of Cosmopolitan magazines.
Yes. I read women magazine when I get a chance. Understanding the enemy is always a good strategy. Isn’t it weird that in men’s magazine we have girlie pictures and in women magazine, they still have girlie pictures. You would have thought otherwise, but no. No wonder there’s a general amount of male bashing going around; women have all turned lesbians.
Anyhow.
The readings from the ticking, which in the end will require some amount of mathematical skill, will be given at the bottom of those articles.
90 - 80: Boy, are you good! Just bronze your dong and declare yourself as a national monument.
80 - 60: You need to work at it. You need to express your desires and bribe the girl into accepting them. No. Blow jobs are not as exciting to her as it is to you.
60 and below: Just go and kill yourself. And while you are about it stop playing with yourself.
Invariably I realized that I was wasting my time finding out things about myself that were not exactly endearing.
I don’t do horoscope either.
Indian horoscopes are not your run of the mill Linda Goodman gushing about how you are the gift to the universe and how perfect you are.
Indian horoscopes are scary.
They make it so by making it appear to you that there’s a whole lot of calculations and enough symbols to give Dan Brown a hard on, going on to arrive at the answers to your puny existence.
Then in the midst of some gibberish that stands for a language that seems to be all but dead, they reveal to you your destiny.
I kind of lost interest when they started talking about some planets in somebody's houses and other such strange things. The only thing closely resembling a planet in my house is my father.
I get it. The logic behind it all. The usual argument of how moon affects tides and how we are 80% water etc. My question is only this.
What’s this big deal about us that we think our destiny is somehow very important to us?
I am scared of horoscope because it probably has nothing nice to say about me. I plan to read mine in my death bed. Just to check which parts came true. That would make an interesting read.
Thing about trying to find out about yourself is like opening your father's diary. You really don’t want to know all what you might find. Life is best lived with as much ignorance as possible. It keeps you in a state of wonder.
But when you do get the masochistic need to give the stick to someone to beat you, you tend to give importance to what others think about you.
Some of the saddest people I know are the ones who are trying their darn best to rise to someone's expectation.
And some of the real bastards are the ones who let them.
Yeah. I know you are reading this. You know where you belong.
Very early in my life I have learnt that if you want to be happy, you should give two hoots about others opinion about you and your action. As long as what you do is not affecting another adversely, I think you have all the right to go ahead and do it.
Others feelings don’t count. How someone feels about your actions is to a large extent based on their own needs. It’s not a bad thing but that’s how it is. Ideally it should not affect you if your partner cheats on you, but it will if it happens, and that feeling of hurt is more about you than about the other. So feelings don’t count when you know you are on the right track.
Hyper sensitive people are leeches. They feed on the desire to be hurt. You can’t win with them. The whole world is against them any way and the sun always shines out of their arse. It’s about their feelings and their actions and their fuck all mind where every other person has to bend themselves backwards to accommodate them.
I don’t mind sensitive people. I think they are just a little bit more fragile than thick skinned rhinos like me.
Suggestion?
Walk away. Don’t put up with it. Let them know that. Of course they will be hurt. But you are giving them what they want anyway. So in some karmic way you are being kind.
I don’t do hyper sensitive. You wouldn’t either. Hell, even sensitives don’t like hyper sensitives.
You like being insulted? Get an opinion.
Like I did. I came to know about this site from this girls blog and it piqued my curiosity.
and this was the result.
Make place girls, Big Mama is in town.
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