Party time (redux)

So after vowing to go to the GB party drunk (It helps with rejection, I find), and failing to convince Meenakshi to be my date (I think it's because I'm gay....), I found myself at Velocity last night surrounded by some of Bombay's finest (Surely you jest my lord!) and fashionablest young men of an alternate sexual persuasion. Sober as a parson. And with nary a strong drink in sight. Or a date for that matter.

Still, I put my best game face on, and strode in to the tune of Woh Lamhe (which is such a sad song..I mean, the techno beat is allright but the emotions it draws up in me? Boohoo!!). Spotted my friedns in the dark (well, dark with disco-bally lights flashing and momentarily blinding me so I found myself squinting at several umm...not so cute guys trying to figure out if they were cute. Oy! Very embaressing. Had to get out of 2 conversations by pretending I spoke only Hindi (It's good to know there are still some honest-to-G-d snobs out there!).

Picked up my drink-du-nuit...Rum and Coke if you must know and found my place on the outskirts of the heaving, throbbing mass that is a gay Bombay disco party. Lots of air kisses and friendly (and yes, not so friendly as well) waves later, I'd managed to spot 5 friends, 3 assholes and 1 arch-nemesis. I think everyone needs an arch-nemesis. If this word doesn't exist, bear with me. The feeling surely transcends words.

Time for a confession. I can't dance to save my life. I'm a bad gay man. I can't dance, I look terrible in sleeveless vests and I love junk food. I'm about 50 hairs short of being a pot-bellied Gujju broker chewing paan masala. And the music they play at these parties does nothing for my confidence either. Especially when I see the dolled up little Call Centre Chokras (CCCs) doing their meticulously rehearsed dance numbers to all the "item numbers". Anyway, to cut a long whine short, I just sorta jiggied about a bit till they played something I could actually dance to...50 Cent! Woohoo! I was all CandyShopping and GoShawtie'ng all over the floor...alone of course! How much fun is hiphop eh? I think I'm going to go to Redlight this Wednsday for some booty shakin' and big pimpin'.

Word to the kids out there: DO NOT introduce any love interests/prospective lovers to anyone at GB till you're absolutely settled. Preferably with 2.1 kids and a chocolate lab. (Well, that's the American Dream..I guess the Desi equivalent would be 2.1 bedrooms and an inquisitve mother) This at the risk of having him stolen from right under your nose by a hotter, richer boy with jeans that ride lower than you thought was humanely possible.

Trust me. It's happened to me more times than I care to remember (OK 3 times. I dwell.)

Anyway, met and had an awesome conversation with S. (another one) in French no less. I was complimented on sounding very Montreal'ian with my accent ("Very much Bandra" I replied!). Anyway, il est Juif et j'aime beaucoup les juifs!! Must call him this afternoon methinks. Better brush up on Talmud and Maimonides before attempting to ask him out.....

All in all, a fun evening. I didn't get drunk, I went home alone to a nice Konkani meal of rice, dali toi and jeeva kadgi sukke..and slept listening to Enya. Bliss.

Current Music:

The Celts - Enya

I feel very much in the soothing Enya-esque mode this afternoon. Perhaps it's onto Clannad and then some Deep Forest in a bit. Boheme is such an awesome album!