A Valentine's diary
9 am: Wake up to the sound of my cellphone going absolutely beserk. Apparently, I've been receiving text messages all morning..it's just that I haven't been able to wake up enough to realize that annoying beep isn't the 1920 Bentley that James Purefoy is driving as he drops me off; from a grassy knoll along his manor house to a teeming immigrant block of flats. (Note to self: Do not read Victoriana just before bed)
9.15 am: Check messages. 2 pity SMSes from happily afianced woman friends, 2 SMSes from people I can't trust and 1 from someone who I detest. Fantastic. Happy Valentine's day indeed!
10 am: Walk into work. Realize very soon that there's some sort of Val Day party planned. Secretly hatch plan to develop headache at about 3 pm.
10.30 am: Hide in bathroom to avoid persistent questions about my plans for the night. Thank God someone left a Mumbai Mirror in there to read. Amuse self by reading sex advice column. (Note to self: Frequent masturbation does NOT lead to slight curvature of penis)
12 noon: Decide to skip lunch as it will involve going to a restaurant full of happy couples. Survive on raiding A.'s lunch box and leftover wafers.
1.30 pm: Will this day never end! Check out funny Val Day email forwards sent to me by colleagues. Hide thoughts of strangling cute puppies behind thin smile. (Note to self: Thin, sardonic smile suits me. I should try it more often. Very "I lost my love in the Great War" look)
3 pm: My head hurts (practise session). Receive email saying I am the DJ for office partty to start at 5 pm. Very quickly realize I am to be mocked for my Arabic and Greek music tastes. Hurriedly download "Kajra Re" and "Dus Bahane". Computer protests at choice of el musico crapioso.
4 pm: No, I have no plans for tonight. Decide to print it out on a sheet of A4 paper and pin it to shirt. Start looking through cellphone to find someone to go out with.
5 pm: The party. Avoid dancing proles by pretending to sort music playlist. Am quickly spotted and made to jive surrounded by 55 bemused colleagues. Much half-hearted clapping and much half-assed dancing follow.
6.15 pm: Remember appointment with "Big Lez TV executive" deep in the 'burbs. Panic ensues as I try to make my way out of the office. People mistake me pushing for a new dance move. Am soon pushed back into place. Sigh.
7.30 pm: Cafe Coffee Day, Fun Republic. Waits for "Big Lez" and alarmed to find "Hot Minion" show up instead. Talk of freelance writing project ensues. Waiter snubbed when he assumes we're a couple. Scented candle offer refused politely.
7.45 pm - 8.30 pm: Rickshaw ride back to Bandra. Frantic cellphoning to anyone I assume is single and available. 6 rejections. Sign from God? THERE IS NO GOD!
9 pm: Amma assumed I'd have a date. No dinner prepared for me. Sigh. Am not living up to the expections of my parents (as usual). Decide to take a hot bath and brood.
9.15 pm: Phone call while I'm in shower. Rush out. It might be someone asking me out! It's Meenu. Am invited out to dinner with her and A. and a couple of friends. Think about it for ...10 seconds and say yes. Atlast a chance to wear my nice pants, show off my new haircut and try out my new conversation starters (Note to self: If you try too hard for a possible date, you'll never have the chance to use any of what you prepared)
10.30 pm: Walk into Subway. It's the only restaurant in Bandra that doesn't have a 45 minute wait (or is full of happy couples). I order the # 6 footlong. It costs me 275 Rs. I pay up gladly assuming I'd be paying the same if I was out on a date.
11.30 pm: My conversation on birds and travel is getting me nowhere. Decide to call it a night and take my 6 inches back home. Polite laughter around table as I explain I meant my leftover sub. Decide to head home inspite of kulfi (from Turner Road gaadiwalla) offer.
12 midnight: Eating sub in bed while watching Baywatch. Yasmin Bleeth is making out with some blond hunk. Reflect on me making out with said blond hunk as I chew on my honey oat/chicken/lamb pepperoni/olive/southwest sauce.
00.45 am: Clean crumbs off self. Pick up study of Stalin's henchmen. Settle into bed. Reflect on what I would be doing at 00.45 am if someone had asked me out. Realize I'm better off dreaming of James Purefoy.
3 am: Wake up in cold sweat. Dreamt Beria was caning my buttocks in the Lubyanka. (Note to self: OK. Sono more Stalin's henchmen bios at night either)
Here ends the Valentine's day celebrations of a single gay man in Bombay. Office parties, meetings with hot businesswomen and dining on subs alone while watching Baywatch.
Hooray for the single life...I think.
9.15 am: Check messages. 2 pity SMSes from happily afianced woman friends, 2 SMSes from people I can't trust and 1 from someone who I detest. Fantastic. Happy Valentine's day indeed!
10 am: Walk into work. Realize very soon that there's some sort of Val Day party planned. Secretly hatch plan to develop headache at about 3 pm.
10.30 am: Hide in bathroom to avoid persistent questions about my plans for the night. Thank God someone left a Mumbai Mirror in there to read. Amuse self by reading sex advice column. (Note to self: Frequent masturbation does NOT lead to slight curvature of penis)
12 noon: Decide to skip lunch as it will involve going to a restaurant full of happy couples. Survive on raiding A.'s lunch box and leftover wafers.
1.30 pm: Will this day never end! Check out funny Val Day email forwards sent to me by colleagues. Hide thoughts of strangling cute puppies behind thin smile. (Note to self: Thin, sardonic smile suits me. I should try it more often. Very "I lost my love in the Great War" look)
3 pm: My head hurts (practise session). Receive email saying I am the DJ for office partty to start at 5 pm. Very quickly realize I am to be mocked for my Arabic and Greek music tastes. Hurriedly download "Kajra Re" and "Dus Bahane". Computer protests at choice of el musico crapioso.
4 pm: No, I have no plans for tonight. Decide to print it out on a sheet of A4 paper and pin it to shirt. Start looking through cellphone to find someone to go out with.
5 pm: The party. Avoid dancing proles by pretending to sort music playlist. Am quickly spotted and made to jive surrounded by 55 bemused colleagues. Much half-hearted clapping and much half-assed dancing follow.
6.15 pm: Remember appointment with "Big Lez TV executive" deep in the 'burbs. Panic ensues as I try to make my way out of the office. People mistake me pushing for a new dance move. Am soon pushed back into place. Sigh.
7.30 pm: Cafe Coffee Day, Fun Republic. Waits for "Big Lez" and alarmed to find "Hot Minion" show up instead. Talk of freelance writing project ensues. Waiter snubbed when he assumes we're a couple. Scented candle offer refused politely.
7.45 pm - 8.30 pm: Rickshaw ride back to Bandra. Frantic cellphoning to anyone I assume is single and available. 6 rejections. Sign from God? THERE IS NO GOD!
9 pm: Amma assumed I'd have a date. No dinner prepared for me. Sigh. Am not living up to the expections of my parents (as usual). Decide to take a hot bath and brood.
9.15 pm: Phone call while I'm in shower. Rush out. It might be someone asking me out! It's Meenu. Am invited out to dinner with her and A. and a couple of friends. Think about it for ...10 seconds and say yes. Atlast a chance to wear my nice pants, show off my new haircut and try out my new conversation starters (Note to self: If you try too hard for a possible date, you'll never have the chance to use any of what you prepared)
10.30 pm: Walk into Subway. It's the only restaurant in Bandra that doesn't have a 45 minute wait (or is full of happy couples). I order the # 6 footlong. It costs me 275 Rs. I pay up gladly assuming I'd be paying the same if I was out on a date.
11.30 pm: My conversation on birds and travel is getting me nowhere. Decide to call it a night and take my 6 inches back home. Polite laughter around table as I explain I meant my leftover sub. Decide to head home inspite of kulfi (from Turner Road gaadiwalla) offer.
12 midnight: Eating sub in bed while watching Baywatch. Yasmin Bleeth is making out with some blond hunk. Reflect on me making out with said blond hunk as I chew on my honey oat/chicken/lamb pepperoni/olive/southwest sauce.
00.45 am: Clean crumbs off self. Pick up study of Stalin's henchmen. Settle into bed. Reflect on what I would be doing at 00.45 am if someone had asked me out. Realize I'm better off dreaming of James Purefoy.
3 am: Wake up in cold sweat. Dreamt Beria was caning my buttocks in the Lubyanka. (Note to self: OK. Sono more Stalin's henchmen bios at night either)
Here ends the Valentine's day celebrations of a single gay man in Bombay. Office parties, meetings with hot businesswomen and dining on subs alone while watching Baywatch.
Hooray for the single life...I think.
posted by Vikster @ 7:23 AM
10 Comments:
At 11:00 AM,
iksha said…
Hey
Jus came across your blog, and was rather amused by your posts! :)
What can I say? V-day was spent away from the festivities, working away in lab, attending evening lectures, cancelling on some friends, hanging out n studying! N strangely enough, no regrets!
Oh well! lets jus use the rest of the 364 days to let the loved ones kno that they're loved! ;)
At 11:21 AM,
Ameet said…
Hmm ... so I'm not the only one who thinks James Purefoy is attractive. Phew.
At 8:37 PM,
Anonymous said…
When you write about it like the way u do, even being single sounds so romantic!
Prediction: Cupid is gonna strike you sooner than u know. ;)
much hugs
h
At 9:46 PM,
roswitha said…
On the other hand, you could have had a killer elephant rampaging through the streets of Bandra, utterly destroying the last and only outpost of human civilisation befoe your very eyes.
At 11:06 PM,
Wild Reeds said…
Valentine's day for singles is like reading Anna Karenina. It just goes on and on and on and finally you're too exhausted to care.
At 4:17 PM,
Enemy of the Republic said…
It isn't much better for the married---same old bloody thing. Who invented this damn thing anyway?
At 5:03 PM,
Anonymous said…
i got a pity call from a friend too, michele cruz, she's cool, she saved my life from a car load of fag bashers back when we were in college, these punk kids from the burbs attacked us from behind and michele pulled on of me with her bare hands --she's way cool.
my val day went about the same. Oy if there was a straight pill --i'd take it cause girls are so much eaiser and nicer if you ask me --too bad the kooch is so disagreeable, dudes are hard game, it takes way too much work, there i've said it, i'm single cause I'm lazy.
i did have two dates though, this black dude who kept say
" UMMM " " UMM " out loud through two entire movies ( don't asnwer the damn phone cause its going to be boring and SYRIANUS) and then wanted me to come over and watch his collection of TYLER PERRY
( DIARY OF A MAD BLACK WOMAN) stage shows, i ran like hell, and then i went out with this white dude who showed up in
the car from american gigolo,the red mercedes convertable, if you're going to drive that car you have to look like richard gere and not richard simmons...
DUNCAN
At 9:10 PM,
Anonymous said…
you couldn't ask for a more perfect v-day ;)
anu
At 12:27 AM,
Anonymous said…
Cant digest how you are so proud of your abnormality.... you fuckin gay
At 11:38 AM,
kuriakonz said…
the above person needs to answer a simple question...
"is your penis long enough to reach your asshole?"
if yes, you know what to do.
if no, well, there's cellphones, carrots or me! :D
vick: dig your writing style... very bridget jonesish.
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