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Damn straight!

Those who have wives are looking for something different once in a way, but it can’t last long. In the end, there are only memories…

I’m anal retentive. I go to work at 5 am and I have insomnia during weekends. I love my solitude and cannot stand anyone living with me for more than five hours. That’s why I’m not married or spoken for. I only had boyfriends after boyfriends and no husband so far. Who could stand me other than bunch of my friends and those boys who love me for a reason?

But I love straight men or at least the ones who appear and act like one. I mean I emasculate them when I make out with them. They lick my toes when they are high on me and then I forget them. They call me up wanting more. I usually say no. They beg, plead and when they fail they use those words and I go back saying “Are you up to fighting with me now? Don’t you remember you licked my toes the other day?” Everyone wants a change from their mundane life. They are bored with their wives, girlfriends or their concubines.

Women have been suppressed for too long. They need a break. At least I try to take an upper hand so I put my tongue into straight men’s mouth. And they love it. They may think that I am raging sexaholic, well the fact is I love to cook. There is a Julia Child in me and I explore it in every possible manner. No, I’m not Nigella Lawson. I don’t do food porn.

There is this straight man friend of mine or my Man Friday. He is adorable. He leaves for work early on Friday and we do errands and spend a good time here and there. I miss him on a Friday when I don’t get to meet him. He calls up at 12 in the night and asks me to talk something nice and spicy so that he can have a good night with his wife. I try to be nice. He hangs up saying “You saved my life from boredom”. I laugh from ear to ear. And then I go to bed. I can’t get sleep. His bed is cold without me or his thoughts about my body in his mind but my bed is even colder. There are just sheets to hold me. “Poor is the man whose pleasures depend on the permission of another”, Madonna is so true. I love her.

It haunts me at times. I wonder, why do men love to hang out with me? It’s definitely not all about sex. They have a sane conversation with me sitting in a dive bar in Delhi which they probably can’t do with their wives or they won’t like to do it. Or do they find me more intriguing and so they can’t stop exploring every side of me? I intuit his happiness when we meet and when he shares every single small little thing he does other than this boring family life. He unleashes his repressed feelings to me as if I am his energy drink and in the end of the day — damn yes, we are friends! I bust his stress out. Sometimes I behave like his wife, sometimes a guy friend, sometimes a teacher and sometimes even a sex machine. I love role plays but I am not giving any name to our relationship. It confines the whole idea of being together. Leaving serious stuff, I’m sort of funny and I feel let’s just wind this guy up and see him explode.

These “men” have “lives” and not “lifestyles”. I’m not using any silly clichés to redefine anyone. It’s true that they will never ever declare themselves as Gay or Bi. They might just disclose this on internet classified anonymously but never in real life. To them I am the only “guy” they tried and will never do any other guys. And I enjoy this sort of special treatment. They are like the forbidden fruit amongst gays. Well, that’s what my friends think. They are wary of straight men but I am not. There are chances that they are not prepared to use the KY Jelly and this might just break your heart. Who cares, I can handle these mighty straight men pretty well. But then, life is like a book with so many chapters. When one chapter is closed, another is automatically open. Isn’t it?

I rant on its stance so that you sit up and think. This is my ramp where you see me walk, talk and pose through choreographed colourful, sinful, disturbed life of mine. Well, you can act like you don’t know me. You don’t necessarily have to agree to my thoughts but I have seen you naked and I know you too well. Please don’t judge me because I don’t, based on other people. At the end of the day if I enjoy being with you, oh yeah, we are friends for good! You go home and close the doors. You hit the floor, they cannot see that you are down on your knees. You took me as an option for your fancy — maybe it’s time I see you as a memory! Had fun?

An occasional writer, Roy describes himself as ‘a failed scholar’ who believes in multiple love and parties