moods


It was a long drive home… It is two states away from where I live, more than eight quarter miles..

I would have never imagined myself being there on the last night.. the last night of a long weekend and the last night of a short romance… It is, the only four day weekend, I have in the year. Thanksgiving. It is a tradition to spend time with family and friends.. and I choose to spend it with friends and Him.

I broke the first rule. “Never offer yourself for a guy who is out of town”. Oh, and when one rule is broken.. there is no point in maintaining other rules.. and so I found out, however painful it may be.. I can’t have rules! at least not when it comes to gravitating towards a Guy!

the drive was slow.. ten miles per hour on an seventy five mph inter-state highway, there was slush all over from the first snow of the season.. and the cars were following each other very religiously. they were following the tracks laid down by the vehicles in front of them.. and in turn reinforcing the track they just followed.. a slight diversion from the track, which was now marked clearly by the layer of snow and ice that was untouched by the brutal black tires.. will send the car off the road and possibly into the valley.. or will just make the car turn around and block the entire traffic following it…

on one side of the road was a mountain, the rocks frosted with ice and snow. On the other side.. the snow capped hazy blueish pines glowing in the misty moonless night.. i would have enjoyed the peace and gloominess of the sight.. but tonight, it was very painful…

painful to have an empty seat next to me.. i turned on the radio.. and quickly tuned it to a different channel.. i could not bear to hear the same songs that i heard with him moments ago…

I looked towards the empty seat…. as I reluctantly followed the tracks..

It all started a month ago..

He was sitting on a tall legged bar chair, right across the entrance of the dance room in Club Cafe..long slender legs.. one stretched out, surely touching the floor and the other folded in.. one hand on the round table and the other holding a glass. dressed in full sleeved, round neck blue sweater.. tight jeans..  white and yellow stripped shoe..

he stood out in the crowd… an east-indian face amidst caucasians, blacks, asian and hispanic…that was the first time I saw him..

It was boys night out.. we moved to friday instead of our usual saturday to watch the Halloween Costumes.. another colorful night, that brings out the creative best..

There was an angel with only feathers, an underwear, more like a thong and of course a fine chiseled body. I don’t remember how long we stood around him.. but when we finally made to the corner which was the only place with some space.. the extreme corner where there is a tiny dance floor..

There was something unusual about Club Cafe that night, it was as if Club cafe had put on new costume, it had shed its typical snobbish self.. there were exchange of pats.. flirts.. smiles.. and numbers..

we saw a guy dressed as Nurse, two guys in bath robes, navy men, police officer, a greek noble with a golden crown. and there was a monkey, an corrupt politician. and the best of all Ellen DeGeneres.. she was so Good she could fill in for the real Ellen.. (later I was told she got the best costume for the night…. )

I saw Him again.. he was going for another drink.. he wasn’t smiling.. neither was he not smiling.. there was a certain indifference in his presence..  it was as if he was there and also not there..

One of the boys.. decided to go into the front room and the rest of us followed.. we stood there watching people walk in.. I was still intrigued by the look on his face.. was he new to Boston? does he have friends? Should I go talk to him?

It started to itch..

So I set out to scratch it… back into the dance room.. squeezing my way through the crowded room.. I am sure I must have stopped to see the angel, but I don’t remember anymore….

He was sitting alone in the chair with his drink.. and I walked straight to him.. he looked up at me..

“Hi, I am Aryan”… I said…

“I know”.. he surprised me.

Surely, I don’t forget people.. I sat next to him, waiting to hear more..

“G Aryan.. I have seen you on my friends list on Facebook.”.. he offered as a way to bring me out of puzzlement.

“Which friend?” …. and so we got to talking…

The next thing I remember.. he was hanging out with me and the boys in the front bar room…. It would have been hard to tell that we all had just met him..  He still intrigued me, but he didn’t seem like a stranger or a like new face..

He felt like someone I have known for a while..

Have you ever met a guy for the first time and have felt that you have known him from a long time?

I can only blame that familiarity on the trust that gets attached to a person who gets introduced through a friend. OK.. he wasn’t literally introduced, but he and I had a common friend.. a friend that I trust….

after all these years…with all those loves from childhood to teenage and into the prime of youth.. it is all too familiar now, the anxiety in the moments leading to the rendezvous moment.. described with butterflies in the stomach or the numbness of the thoughts..

it seems like i am living just for this one moment. everything before and whatever will come after that doesn’t seem to matter.. and yet it is all about what i have done in the past and what i will do in the future will be decided by this rendezvous moment..

it is at 4pm today.

i have a few hours to kill before i start driving towards the rendezvous and i know there is nothing i can do till then, except may be continue doing the work that i am supposed to do.. but can work provide me with that sweet distraction that i so badly need right now or should i call on some of my friends.. what is it that i can do which doesn’t require my attention or which can take my undivided attention..

how can i stop thinking about the rendezvous moment…

Big B.. yes.. the thoughts of him certainly can keep me occupied..

the one who gives me immense joy and at the same time all this anxiety. what is it about him that drives me so crazy.. is it his unwavering confidence with which he can walk into the bar.. and pick up the guy he wants? or is that tender caressing with which he took me in in the middle of the night, feeding me grapes and blue cheese omlette.. or is it his cut throat accomplishments in the financial markets of the big apple or could it be his passion of world cultures and music.. and of course how can i forget.. his charming sweet words and the passionate animalistic love..

alas…. it is a paradox.. for the same reasons, we can never be together..

the conflicts of our careers and ambitions drift us apart… and so why should either or both of us give up that pleasure of walking into the bar and taking what we can get? why should our tender caress be deprived their need for being expressed? how can the passionate animal be tamed to be satisfied with occasional reunions? and so we move on..

carrying with in me.. those memories of moments that we had together.. that i could have not had in any other way….

and at the rendezvous moment.. i will find out.. if i will be carrying with me.. anything more than those happy moments.. the cause for my anxiety..

A pair of ducks , a common sight that you can’t miss on your visit to a pond (took this picture at boston commons.) Of course, i saw another pair just like the one in the picture when I was out with my friends for a brunch at a Jewish Deli yesterday.

ducks

It occurred to me as I watched this pair, that the colorful one is the ‘Male’. Think of it, the peacock is the one with that beautiful feathers.. or the roaster for instance. My friend joked, it is male who has to attract the females, so he needs the beauty..

How right he is? Or is he?

Physical attraction certainly seems to play a major role. All those guys at the bar or those who frequent chelsea are all in the best of their shapes and they sure are working hard to be that way. Some people enjoy working out and that is probably the way to look at it, but if someone is at it to attract other men.. well .. he is just pretty

Well.. so what is beautiful about men…. It is the charm they grace, when they overcome the state of denial and have made peace with what they are. The aggressiveness that pushes them to limits, the calmness that helps them to overcome the most intriguing situations.. The maturity that sees no situation as embarrassing….

OK… having said that.. I got to admit I do stumble for that pretty pretty looks, but what after the novelty wears off.. it is the beautiful men that last longer.. than the pretty boys..

What do you think?

I happened to see mails floating around on this topic in one of the discussion groups i am part of – ‘movenpick’. However the question itself isn’t very new. In fact, my friends who don’t approve of me being a queer are pretty much determined that it is a choice I have made.

Now, I don’t really have a good answer to that question and wonder if I will ever know it myself. It is for the researchers to decide one way or the other and I will let them do it…

So what is my take on that question?

“I don’t know, but I do know I can’t make myself to be any different than what I am right now. And being queer is being who I really am.”

Of course where I am right now is because of several conscious choices that probably followed that one unconscious chance.. So I do wonder sometimes, what I would have been if I hadn’t been home alone with my neighbor on that summer vacation.

I was eight-years I think and he was twelve. As luck would have it, he was to entertain me that sunny afternoon while our folks had some ‘grown-up’ things to do. So after running out of ideas to keep me busy, he decided it was time to bring in more kids and play hide and seek.

So we started hide and seek, and I followed him to the hiding place which was a closet in his parents bedroom. And we did more than just hiding there, before we were eventually found and caught in the act… which followed quickly by happy screams..

Of course,  the screams were due to being ‘found’ and not for the act itself. (Think of it today, and I can see what ‘found’ really meant.)

That summer, we happened to have more chances of hide and seek. It is just that, we stopped playing with other kids and it would just be me and him.. In the house, under the sheets or at the lake that we used to frequent with bicycles.

That summer, was our last summer together.

But as I see it now, it sure was a chance.

So did that help me discover myself? or have I made the choice to continue pursuing what I enjoyed the most?

Whatever it might be, I would not have it any other way..

OK, now a little on the side that I have had trouble accepting and confronting. This is how it usually starts (or ends, or starts). A long time friend asks me, ‘How is your latest date?’. I must have told him about that guy I was dating a few months back. I reply back, ‘Oh that, it is over.’

He wouldn’t stop at that, ‘Why? What happened?’ OK, now my response, ‘He was very needy, he had lot of expectations from me, he was getting all touchy…’ I go on and on… My friend would listen to me for a while and then say. ‘Thats sweet. What is wrong with that?’

And I go blank. It is not because I don’t know why I broke up, but I don’t know how to tell him that ‘there is no sparkle between us, and I am still looking for those sparkling moments.’ I am not ready to be tied down and told to be coherent. I like variety. I like to change my mind as I explore new things.

But every once in a while, there are those moments where I see a couple. The intimacy they share, the way they look after each other. The way they seem to do everything for each other. It is a nice feeling to watch them. And I give in to one of those moments, and would venture on a new fling with that old date.

He (my old date), still struggling to find out why I left him the way I did, is still looking in the way I went. And in my mood of couple’s intimacy, I look back at him. Though, momentary the yearning towards him is true. In that moment, I feel strongly towards him, but if only I can hold on to that.

Before I turn away, I know I have given new hopes. And he is coming my way, at which point I just wish I had vanished, but I stick around and let his hopes and spirits build up. Only till I reach that moment again, where I walk way, unspoken. And next time my friends calls me, I say.. ‘He is touchy, feely, needy…’

It hurts to leave him groan in the pain I caused, as he says:

Quit Playing

The extravaganza that you crafted meant “nothing serious” to you?
Quite a try. You breach through the cross-fire all shielded leaving me
burnt to ashes. You throw me into your testing waters only to abandon
me when I couldn’t swim across to your bank. Metaphors fail me.

I wasn’t expecting. There was a reason for my recluse. When I
reconcile your sudden affectations as a possible reflection of your
emotions, I got involved. I thought the lapse was needed to know if
the influences and reflexes are genuine enough. Just to be too sure.
It is disheartening to learn that this time went too fast for you to
simply move on.

I didn’t ask for ‘to be loved’ and get hurt. Just don’t turn back
while you go, I will be very humiliated at my own struggling efforts.

Note: The paragraph on Quit Playing was written by a friend (in a context unrelated to me). But it seemed to express the perspective I would leave behind when I walk away without a reason.

I am looking for someone with whom I can have a steady-relationship. And I have been quite vocal about this recently and spoke about it to my friends. One friend candidly said, ‘your decisions and their temporary existence’. Another friend was quick to express his surprise. ‘Really? Are you sure?’.

Well, so I set out to prove them incorrect and really find myself someone I could stick with. After all these years of dating and flings, it was just logical that I know what I wanted. Especially given that  I have dated people who are a couple of years younger to me to a couple of decades elder to me. (Or does it mean that I don’t know what I want? I wonder.)

Either way, this time I told myself that it was going to be different. It is not like picking up a shirt in the store, I am going to think through and find someone with whom I can stick for more than a few dates.

Can I really do that? What if I do decide to stay with someone and someone better comes along? ‘Somewho’ that is more appropriate for a coupling. Don’t people in relationships face this situation. Are they all very clear in what they want?

Does anyone out there give me an logical explanation?

well.. now that i know i want normal life, i wonder.. if this is what most people want!!

may be they do.. but what one calls ‘normal’ might vary abnormally..

anyways.. just to note it.. in the past weeks.. there has been a drastic change. it all began with that catharsis.. and then i got back to normal.. and in talking terms with most of my friends..

just when i thought i was having a normal life again.. he started talking again.. i am glad i was in my senses when he got back… there were no butterfly effects!! i had things well sorted out before that.. which helped me to be indifferent to the fact that.. i am talking again to the person.. whom i dared, not talk again.

anyways.. in the days that followed i patched up with the phone guy and then also met the malayasian for dinner.. and ya.. went finally to that desi party. all like ticking off things that i had had to do.. (i know i don’t have to)

at work.. glad things are getting back to the organized way..

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