Thinking About it All

If I could do away with sex and its consequences, I would have been a better man. You see I am caught between this desire to be completely devoid of sexual desire and this temptation to accept sex and regulate its effect on my behaviour.

I think you can call me  a sexual man. The time I was sexually active and had sex with men, I ensured I had sex at least once a week. The men were fun – naked and sexy. We would moan and sigh with passion writ large on our bodies. Oh man! Those were heady days – frolicking for hours on the bed, licking each other’s nipples, sucking mutually, and making love to each other; yes, those days were positively hedonistic. And I did have a streak of longing in me then. I longed for a partner to be with me forever and not go sleeping around.

Well, that did not happen. The men always wanted to have sex with someone new and since I did not know the ropes to foil such sexual antics, I would feel hurt, feel used, and then go sleep with other men. In the end, I turned out to be just like the men I deplored.

Then – one fine day – something happened and I began to be repulsed by my behaviour. Consequently, I stopped it all. And it has been like that for a while.

I do get these impulses to just get out and go sleep around with men at the gay bar. But decency has the better of me now. And I don’t let myself get carried away.

Yet, a part of me longs for nakedness, for some raw uninhibited sex, for some loving, for some intense sex…

Sigh! The Fallen will never leave you in peace, will they?

Notes during a Break

Sigh! Another day at work. Seems like I am working here for an eternity. I began reading Jane Eyre on my way to work. The book’s nice and does keep me riveted with its flow. For a novel written ages ago by a woman who hardly left the churchyard in which she was brought up, it’s amazing that it can hold the attention of the reader even to this day…

That Time of The Year

My phone’s screen morphs into an electric pink. It’s the wallpaper that I set without much thought. My colleague seated just a desk away is seriously considering some e-mails though he appears to be staring at nothing in particular.

People walk by in the corridor blissfully unaware I even exists. Of course, the ones who know me peer into my cabin – that I share with my colleague – and nod or just stare and move on.

My boss sits next door. He’s all set to wind down for the day – just like me. MY head aches and my neck wants to tilt to my right side. I tilt it and my neck begins to hurt as well.

I am bored as you can make out from the paragraphs above. And this Christmas, I seem to have presented myself with tonnes and tonnes of boredom. I will not be going anywhere, will not be entertaining anyone – in short – will not be doing anything worth screaming from the balcony about.

And to think I was the one way back in the 1990s to be very very excited about the most wonderful time of the year. I don’t feel anything about it at all this year. Perhaps, the recession took its toll and robbed my enthusiasm. Perhaps I am fed up of my job and am disgusted that I cannot – despite my abilities and talents – find another to make me happy.

Oh this Christmas chugs in with ennui written on its mistletoe. I am neither happy nor sad that it’s here. It’s here because it’s that time of the year when it just has to arrive and make way for the New Year.

I don’t seem to have hopped onto its bandwagon of cheer and joy though. I feel tired, worn out, and seem to carry a whole truckload of fatigue along with me.

And that truckload, that tiredness, and that weariness just doesn’t want me to get onto the Polar Express…

A Date after An Era

The guy was goodlooking – almost like an Israeli: dangerous and yet inviting. And so I invited myself to an opportunity that let me ask him out. And he said yes.

We met at Bandra station and then got into a rickshaw that galloped off to Carter Road. Oh it was a date for sure. He went home to change and douse a bottle of perfume before he walked back again to Bandra station. And since, I don’t mind smelling some nice cologne, I pretended to be indifferent, but secretly loved the fragrance that pervaded the rickshaw.

After the rickshaw stopped at Carter Road, we got out and walked. The Israeli – I will call him that for want of another description –  is nice to talk to but is very very sensitive to criticism. Well, he isn’t sensitive to all the criticism you throw his way. He just detests being corrected grammatically.

I noticed that trait the moment I met him and made a conscious effort to keep my mouth shut lest I correct him. After all, he wasn’t offending me and I somehow felt nice in his company.

He is very proud of the fact that he is an editor at the age of 22. The pride swells into the shape of a monster, actually. He began to tell me how much he loves his job, how you need to have several years of experience to be a sub-editor in a newspaper, and how he had landed himself with such a job at an age as tender as 22.

Usually, I when someone goes on like this, I do give them a peace of my mind. But yesterday, I really did not want to argue. Nor did I want to contest the veracity of his statement. I just nodded, smiled, and was my agreeable self. You see I had begun to like him already.

We talked a little more. And then we sat in a cafe and drank some coffee. We got along well. I have a strange feeling I might sleep with him. I don’t know why. You see while we sat at the cafe, I was inexplicably drawn to him and I felt like taking his face in my palms and kissing his lips.

It’s just that I am a stickler for proper behaviour and so refrained from doing anything that stupid. But were I drunk, I would have and that would have been quite a sight.

Anyway, moving on, as I said, I was attracted to him. Perhaps it was the accent that did the trick. It’s exotic and rather East European-esque. And since I am crazy after such accents, I have fallen (slightly) for the boy’s charms.

Half an hour later, as I finished sipping my coffee and we began to walk to the rickshaw stand, I realized I was really pleased that I had asked him out. I was smiling, he was smiling, we were talking and listening to each other, and the manner in which we went about this was akin to a symphony well played by a Philharmonic Orchestra.

So as the piece came to a close, I played the final movement: “Oh it has been great meeting you. Are you coming this Sunday for the meet?” I asked.

“I don’t know I am not quite sure.”

“Well, do come; that way I get to see you again.”

“Oh all right! I’ll try to. See you soon.”

“You too.”

And we smiled at each other, held hands a little, and then parted.

At Work and Fending off The Sexy Blue

What am I doing today? Let’s see: I am approving timesheets that have collected in my interface and have been lying there for more than a month.

I am also about to start with a new chapter in the Help file and oh! It makes me sigh and yet I am glad to have work. These days that is most reassuring.

Among other things, I hope to God that the lead writer from Canada doesn’t call today. If he does, I will have to sit back till 7:30 perhaps and so, miss my driving class. But then I don’t seem to mind sitting back once in a while. The Canadian lead writer is charming and so full of verve, it’s always a pleasure to talk to him. Do I have a crush on him? No. Well, probably I do. But I don’t think it’s one of those crushes that waylay your day-to-day activities and make you all mushy and muddled in the head. It’s just a pleasant nice feeling that makes me smile when he calls.

So, probably, I will have to sit back and he is sweet enough to wrap up the call in 30 minutes.

—

I noticed something yesternight as I switched the lights off and got into bed. I had cut down my intake of porn! Oh yes, I am not kidding. Believe you me, I haven’t surfed for the flesh in a while and that is quite an achievement. I had begun to worry whether I was becoming a porn addict. I would spend hours surfing porn and downloading full-length feature films with hardly a storyline and ample amount of naked flesh in every scene. Well, it did make me ecstatic, but you know once I was done with it, the ecstasy would crash onto the floor and a quick violent feeling of ennui would seize me.

Dealing with that was a big big headache and of course dealing with the actual headache that ensued after I had climaxed was even worse. There were times I wanted to skip work the next day after a bout of porn and masturbation. But only because these are tough times and the recession would have leapt in to take advantage of the situation, I would drag myself to office and pretend to be unwell to account for the glazed paralyzed look.

This happened so frequently, I myself was shocked at my behaviour and so, decided to do something about it. I tried – with all my might – to not go to xtube.com and xvideos.com and I put in a truckload of effort to concentrate on a book to fend off the urge.

Well, I will not say I am over it: That will be an outrageous lie. It’s just that I know I have it under control now. And it isn’t the bother it was until a few weeks ago. I just hope it remains this way. After all, I cannot afford to look perpetually spent. Besides, I need to earn to recover money spent as well.:)

The Man Now and The Boy Back Then

Men – they are a fascinating species. At least to me, they are very fascinating. Of course, I am talking of the ones well built and who walk with a swashbuckling style. I never can do all that you know. Nor am I that powerfully built. So that muscular physique has been quite a fixation. I think from that arose my lust and passion for men. I remember the time I was in school, there was this guy who would sit next to me sometime. He did not have much of a face to look at, and yet, he was so sexy. He was well built too – okay not well-built; moderately built and he had the nicest of asses that ever came my way in the ninth standard. It was round and I could make out the shape of his bikini briefs through his trousers.

Oh, I had a crush on him for sure. But even then, I knew it would be futile to waste my time on him. He was a Moslem and he was – for lack of a subtler way to put it – spectacularly dumb.

So, though I loved to imagine we both making love, I knew I would never go beyond the lovemaking.

Fortunately, nothing happened between us. I was shy and worried about the way I was thinking about men back then and he was out and out a romeo of the worst order and degree. So, though he did at times show more than just a flicker of interest in me (He wanted me to come for the overnight school picnic and knowing what he had in mind, I faked an excuse and stayed put at home.), I always pretended to not understand and let the matter fizzle away.

I was thinking of him today. What was it about him that made me imagine him in my bed? I think it was his voice (a heavy bass one) and his countenance. It was a very raw earthy style of walking that he had and that – I remember very well – made my knees knock with excitement the moment he was around.

Oh it was very juvenile of me to think all that then. And very impulsive too. Okay not impulsive, it was more like I having a sudden attack of an obsession for that mass of manly flesh.

Sigh! Well, I am glad to have grown up. After all, I don’t think I’d like to carry around a truckload of mistakes, would I?:)

Conversation at 11 pm IST

“Mother will you go to sleep please?”

It was 11 in the night and she was incessantly writing away on a piece of paper as she acknowledged by way of her yawns that she was indeed sleepy.

“Well, I am doing something.”

“Really? Pray tell me what mystery at 11 in the night keeps you awake and forces you to solve it right away?”

“That’s none of your business. That’s Daddy’s and mine.”

“Really, but if you don’t solve it now, no one’s going to take you to task you know.”

Mother gave me a withering look. ”Will you mind my business or should I mind yours?” she snapped.

“Oh but I don’t want you to.”

“So don’t mind mine either. Go to bed.”

And that being so decisive an instruction, I just smiled and obeyed.

On an Afternooon of Spurious Pleasure

Well here I am again. It’s post lunch time and I have not much of a worry to bother about. The To-do list seems manageable and I doubt the boss will explode if I do not finish a thing or two.

I spent a whole afternoon yesterday watching porn. Well, it was porn of both types: gay and straight. On a lazy afternoon at home, I somehow always find myself ending up on xtube.com or gaytube.com or redtube.com or more recently, xvideos.com.

It’s rather easy to access such spurious pleasure online and all it takes is a click of a button and a hungry lusty appetite.

So, I landed up on xvideos.com this past Sunday. And oh! What a treat that Web site is. Erik Everhard performs with all his lust and sexuality in as many as seven or more videos uploaded in the straight section. And then there’s Pavel Novotny, Josh Weston, and several sexy hunks doing each other in the gay section.

Well, till the time I watched them fondle each other and feel every inch of naked skin, I was aroused. Yes, quite frankly, as the naked men and women felt each other and groped and licked and had sex, I was thrilled with my orgasm.

But once I was done, this familiar urge hit me to close the Web site at once. And so I did! It really seems stupid of me to behave so. After all, I was watching them gratifying each other and satisfying my voyeuristic behaviour as well. And it seemed quite selfish that I stopped their performances once I had climaxed and cleaned it all from my thighs and crotch.

Why? Why is it that I cut ties with lust and sexual acts so swiftly as if it were a crime to be associated with them? Probably – and this is what I think maybe the reason – it’s because ever since the time I can remember, sex has never been packed with approval into any of my conversations. It’s always this topic that has to be leered at and referred to indirectly.

Perhaps that may have built an impression of it being not right to be indulged in often. Yes, I know too much sex is not quite a recommendation for one’s well being, but you must know I hardly even have sex. So, I at least should allow myself to allow my eyes to accept the act and take it in and relish it.

Shunning it as if it were a barbarian about to ravage the land is not something I should be encouraging. Don’t you think so?

Gone With My Whimsical Acts

My back’s aching – not aching actually,  scratching. Not even scratching; it’s itching, but slightly. It’s not as if I have to tear down my clothes and rip through the itching area. My back never allows me to do so nor does it give me a chance to do so either.

I was thinking about the times I spent with my ex-boyfriend (Harry). Oh he did not scratch my back, but he did excite me no end. I was so happy being with him. Of course, had it not been for my break-up before I met Harry, I would have still been with him. I broke up with Harry because I realized I wasn’t over the ass I had dated before him.

Today, as I sat in the bus and listened to a Philharmonic Orchestra playing Christmas carols, I began to drift back in time to the days Harry and I were dating. We would meet at places in Bandra and we did coochie-coo like rabbits.

Sigh! I miss intimacy. I miss it like hell. It’s the one thing that I hankered after for so long and when it did come my way, because I was in a skewed state of mind, I dumped it and how! I called Harry and broke up with him on the phone!

Silly of me, really, but then I have reason to say that this is just one of the numerous silly deeds I have participated in in the 30 years of my life here on Earth.

A Lazy Sleepy Holiday

The day arose from its slumber just like any holiday would – slow, meticulously lazy, and in no mood to go anywhere at all. I like such days and I let it grow on. I finished breakfast at 10:00 am and then just sat in the hall. Father was at the computer in my room, so I decided to look out of the window that let the Sun into the hall.

Sister was at breakfast still and we spent some time talking nonsense. The Sun walked in and flooded the floor with patterns rather common. But this was the first time I had sat in the hall at that hour. So, I was quite pleased with the rays as they painted squares and circles of light near my toes.  I let my mind think what it wanted to and in a flash, I saw scenes from the day gone by flitting past me. I saw the boss nodding his head just for the sake of showing me he was listening to me. I saw myself walk from the company to the bus depot, I saw myself indulge in listless conversation and then all of a sudden – as if someone had snapped shut the screen on which I saw all this – it all vanished into thin air.

I saw the clouds drift across the skies. They had not a worry in the world nor were they bothered of the fact that no one bothers about them. They have no chart to refer to, no path to chart, nothing at all. All they do is just float away as and when the wind decides to push them. Yet, I did not wish to be a cloud. After all, I do have a head and heads usually hate being pushed around.

Well, I left the clouds where they were and walked back into my room. Father was done with the computer and so, I plonked myself in front of it. As usual, I surfed aimlessly. Surfing doesn’t need an aim. You get onto a Web site and then just keep clicking and before you know it you are on a page you had no intention of landing upon. I began with a harmless social networking site and ended up on a rather sleazy page – all because I had clicked on links that came up in the margins of pages I had surfed up to.  I saw what I had to and got fed up of the whole exercise within an hour.

So, I switched off the computer and went to read Daphne du Maurier’s Jamaica Inn.

Of course, the book kept me occupied precisely for another hour and I returned to surfing yet again…

After all, I am on a holiday. I’ll do just as I please!