Flashback 1 - Year 1998

1998 - A very significant year in my otherwise non-existent gay life. That is the year when I moved away from my parents and stayed in a hostel. That's the year I had my first brush with internet. That's the year I realized that it is okay to be gay. That's the year I bloomed. A late bloomer but a quick learner and I was already looking for people to meet.

The starry eyed small town guy that I was, I had a very rosy and romantic picture of my gay life in my head. Strangely, till a few months ago I used to spent hours and hours mourning about 'my cursed life'. Internet definitely played a very important role in my life. So, I was talking about the 'romantic' me. After the first few weeks of browsing through various websites, I got down to the business of finding real people. Internet at that time used to cost around 120 Rs per hour in an air conditioned cafe and any where between 60 to 90 Rs in a normal cafe. I used to save up all my pocket money for those pilgrimages. I stopped buying books or music. I stopped watching movies. Those couple of hours spent in cyber cafes were like bliss...like investments towards a happily married life.

After searching for like ages I found e mail IDs of three guys based in my town. I remember the walk back from the cyber cafe after this little discovery. I was happy at finding some real people in my own town and at the same time I was quite agitated and distressed because I was not able to write to them right away due to lack of time. I was back at work the next day and wrote three lovely and long mails to these three wonderful guys.

Guy one had a very long profile where in he had mentioned that he is 29, a dancer, romantic, and blah and blah and more blah. He sounded like a well placed and settled in life kinda guy.

Guy two was a college goer who was looking for like minded people to hang out with.

Guy three had no information on his profile except for his email id, to which one was supposed to write for responses that would change their life.

The first one to reply was the romantic dancer. His response to my mail was dripping with honey. I was a 19 year old guy who had received a response from another guy, possibly boy-friend material, and the guy seemed to be pretty interesting; more importantly he seemed interested in me. I was like, wow! is this how it is going to begin?

We fixed to meet on the coming Saturday at his home. I was a bit scared about going to his place but my excitement at finally getting to meet another gay human being suppressed whatever inhibitions I had. The left side of my brain submitted meekly to the pressures from my entire body. I convinced myself that a proper conversation can take place only in the comfort and privacy of a house. I kept imagining various situations and how I'd react to his romantic advances. I was already half way in love with him. My prince charming was very tall, about 6,2; broad shouldered and toned, not too buffed up; a wide grin that traveled up to his eyes and lit every thing up; floppish hair that kept falling on his eyes and he would brush them away from time to time; he'd open door and electrify me with his smile and then he'd lift me up in his arms and take me in to his room...where we would sit all day long, sipping coffee and talking about our lives; our child hood, our aspirations, dreams and our expectations from life. I had it all pictured in my head.

The big day came and I spent hours in selecting the clothes to put on. I wanted to dress up and at the same time did not want to give away the fact that I had spent any time on it. I finally managed to put on some clothes and left for his place. It was only after I reached his lane that I started sweating profusely. I couldn't muster enough courage to go up to his gate and press the call bell. Almost 15-20 minutes of fidgeting around and indecision later I managed to press the door bell. My heart of beating so loud I had difficulty listening to anything else. I kept wiping my hands on my trousers. My fluttering heart kept expecting its prince charming to open the door and lift me in his arms ....any moment now. And then the door opened....and I fell from his arms ...on to the floor.

I had not prepared myself for what I saw in front of me. I saw a middle aged guy, probably 35-40, short, almost bald, a pot belly the size of Gujarat, a smile that showed his paan stained uneven teeth and dressed in a beige silk kurta and white chudeedaar pajamas. I couldn't manage to keep the smile on my face, and if I could picture myself at that point of time, I'd look heavily constipated. But he refused to be fazed by the look on my face. He took my hands and lead me inside. I was dizzy and too confused to react. I let him take me to where ever he wanted. By the time I gained some composure I realized we were entering his bedroom and he was babbling about AC not working and blah-di-blah. Then all of the sudden we were sitting side by side on his bed; one of his hands on my thigh and the other massaging my shoulder. I found myself incapable of even making small talk and he definitely didn't want much talking.

I kept telling myself that I should get up and leave. That was not what we were supposed to do. We were supposed to TALK! Where was the fuckin coffeeeeee? And does he not brush his teeth? His breath stinks! and that's when I realized that he was slobbering up and down my cheek and at the same time trying to pull my face towards him.

I finally managed to untangle myself from the 'dancer'. The look on his face was priceless. He looked at me as if I have suddenly grown some horns on my head. I bolted towards the door and was out of it before he could spell "What?"

I had many thoughts, many lessons to file away in my head...

More to follow...