Thursday, November 15, 2018
My journey with choosing the right Dildo has been a strenuous one. From laughing at tiny yellow colored rocket machines held together with cello-tape in Fort, Mumbai to funny smelling ones in Palika Bazaar, Delhi (rumor in the market was that most dildos were already used!) - I just never could convince myself to buy one. Most of the equipments online would almost always cater to clitoris stimulation. Dildo in the digital Indian market wouldn't imagine the prostate. Sometimes I think I should have ordered a Dildo long time back, beginning of my 20s to be precise, just so I could be good at bottoming! Fucking took me ages to be able to take a dick inside properly!
After repeated unfortunate physical encounters I finally decided to order one online. The Dildo came. I have not named it. LOL of course I have. I am not telling you the name. I felt it between my fingers and strangely, felt like I was holding a dick for the first time in my life. I didn't feel the heat that generally radiates from a dick but I felt drawn to it. I had a nice shower and cleaned my ass just as I would before any fuck date or an evening where I anticipated sucking cock and getting my ass wrecked by an emotionally unavailable man. I applied a nice smelling body lotion around my dick and asshole just as I would on a day knowing that my body would be licked inch by inch by a hungry tongue. Only this time the D (Dildo) wasn't lathered up by my mouth but by a good old regular wash basin. I cleaned this D properly and laid on my bed to start. I'll be honest - I am all for self stimulation and finding creative ways to pleasure oneself (god knows lonely gays LIVE on masturbation) but I found it weird to 'start'. I don't really know what the start and end of sex is? It can go anywhere and nowhere right? Part of getting to know someone's body is the unpredictability right? So I didn't know HOW would I begin opening up my ass. Do I place the D upright on the bed and try squatting on it? Do I lie down with my legs in the air and push the D inside me with one hand? Do I hold it perpendicular to the wall and try taking it in? I didn't fucking know. Finally I decided to try taking it in with my legs in the air. I put lot of lotion on the D and started massaging my hole. My dick, it seemed, wasn't in the mood for it. And I wasn't surprised. My dick wasn't familiar with this new object. It was still figuring out its reaction! After feeling that my hole was beginning to relax and open up a bit I started shoving the D inside. It felt strange. It felt squishy. IT FELT GOOOOOOOOOD. I felt my nipples hardening. I felt the familiar dull inner thigh ache. I sensed my muscles inside resisting and inviting the D at the same time. My breathing automatically matched the movement of my muscles. I involuntarily moaned and my dick responded to the hardness of my nipples and the head of the dildo fully entering inside me. It was once I inserted the entire D inside me and pushed the button on it that I realized OH MY FUCKING GOD WHY DON"T OUR DICKS COME WITH INBUILT VIBRATION. You know that feeling when you enter your bed in harsh winters after taking a nice warm bath and use a warm bottle in between your legs while sleeping? (If you don't know this feeling then I am judging you and how on earth have you lived by not doing this!?). That warmth travels tickling up from your thighs to the base of your balls? This was that but only better. I think my body was shocked. My legs were shocked. My prostate was shocked. My orgasm was ecstatic. I couldn't believe that my prostate could be stimulated like that.
This D My D has 22 modes of vibrations. The first one feels like listening to a calm ocean while sitting on a beach, the fifth one feels like sitting on a bumpy car ride when you tell your fellow car members 'ugh please drive properly' but deep inside you are saying 'fuck this kinda feels good', the tenth one feels like you could be in a porn movie and this rhythm would get the 'top' top awards and the twenty second one..... The fucking twenty second one felt like a place where I would NEVER let a man go inside me. It felt like a sexual fantasy in which only my clone knew how to enter because only I know my body that well. It felt like that crush (who in reality is a useless fuck) but in your dreams KNOWS his shit. It felt like an incident from mythology where the protagonist experiences other worldly connections through their dreams. It felt like....FUCK you get the idea. IT FELT FUCKING AMAZING. And for the second time in my life, I came without ever having to touch my dick. I know you are going to say 'oh what an inexperienced child! Sex toys are already at a revolutionary stage and he is still trying his first regular old dildo!' and I would tell you 'Fuck you' and also that you are right. Ugh. I admit that it has taken me a long time to get around this but one of the reasons I have been avoiding a dildo is because I rely too much on touch. It's not that pleasure for me has depended on touch but I had become accustomed to experiencing sex through bodies touching me. Even if not penetration then licking my nipples, or pulling my hair, or jamming fingers deep into my mouth, or choking me with cock..... Am I relying too much on emotional and physical intimacies to feel stimulated?
I have somewhat physically settled into this new country but I am emotionally still making sense of it. Just to give you an update (amazing and kind strangers who push me to write here more frequently) - I recently shifted to U.S.A. for higher studies. Growing up in Jalandhar (Punjab) who had never really stepped out of that town (it's a sprawling city now! Before you ask, NO I am not telling you my age), as your every day desi gurl I always imagined America to be some mystic sexual la la land. Only to realize later in life how stupid I was to not have explored fragile Punjabi men sexually. I was too busy making sense of my own sexuality through my fantasies! If you have read my blog at all, it would be obvious that I tend to make sense of my surroundings mostly through desires and intimacies. But I have been living in fantasies since fucking forever! I have experienced sex through my dreams, fiction and imaginations! It's not like I have not experienced rejection before! My entire life has been about making sense of my queerness through lack of touch! So what is so different now? I feel like I am returning back to my high school self. Where falling in love with strangers was all I knew. And distance was the only way I knew closeness. I think I don't have as many insecurities as I did then but every fantasy now comes with a tinge of regret. Like there is something missing. More than what was missing back then. It is anger at the lack of figuring out my own patterns. That regret is fear of not able to get with the times of online apps. That regret is my inability to not being clear/direct and getting too lost in ambiguity. That regret is knowing that I should have learnt by now where to place my intimacies but still channeling it at the wrong
And while my D satisfied me in ways no man ever could I still wondered what would have happened if while getting out of the car when that d dropped me home that night, instead of saying goodnight I kissed him instead.
Sunday, May 27, 2018
Jalandhar. There are days, in this bitchy, awful, lonely, lovely city where I now live, called Delhi when I do miss you. I think, ‘how does it feel to have grown your entire life in one town?’ To have known all your neighbours. To have grown up with your neighbours. To not have to shift schools. To see the town change and call those changes your own. I do miss how growing up in Jalandhar we never had to worry about space. There were streets which didn’t have running cars, there were parks which didn’t have gates, there were familiar faces who smiled back when I smiled at them. I don’t know when did the many patriarchs who inhabit you became everything that I could ever take from you. I don’t know when did those many patriarchs who live in you, love you, hate you, fuck you, get fucked by you, became…….you.
MY patriarch….is a lot like you.
YOU are a lot like my patriarch.
You both are cheaters. You both thrive on pride. You both beat your women. You both tell me to not look you in your eye. You both keep telling me I am a failure at being a man. I hear you are not a town anymore. Empty streets have become showrooms, old houses have become malls, your stoop has become more prominent, your pagdi (turban) has gotten thinner.
I want to love you. Not just because I was born in you, not just because I was brought up by you, but because……I just do! Even when you repeatedly call me a chakka, even when you made me hide the ‘hari’ sticker, signifying our lower caste, at the back of our car, even when you accuse Delhi of ruining me, even when you tell my parents that I must have gotten fucked by many men from all over Delhi.….I do want to give you a chance. Ok, before you say anything Jalandhar, I know it’s been a while since I met you. Every now and then, you keep saying ‘I love you’ to me. You keep asking me, when will I come back. But I don’t want to come back not just because it will remind me of what I was but it will force me to imagine what I would have become had I not left you. I have been building myself against your masculinity so fiercely that I tried to claim some of my family’s women’s femininity. After being denied that femininity too, I just hovered…in between. My femininity shifted whenever I crossed the streets with my elder sister trying to avert your patriarchs’ eyes. My masculinity roared trying to hide my love for tamarind. My ‘in between’ applauded whenever I slyly looked at my school seniors play basketball, shirtless, in the mornings. My ‘in between’ stood by when you didn’t.
The last time, I was looking at you through a video call, at your changing localities, changing skies, at Lakhbir aunty’s new railings at her house, at Shayar uncle’s famous garden tree, I unexpectedly came face to face with your patriarch. My patriarch. Both, you and me, knew fully well, that this might just be the last time we both look into each other eyes, and after customary small talk, you said, “Akhil puttar….i love you”. I looked at the pixelated you for 2 seconds, smiled faintly, thinking of all the lost opportunities, lost friendships, lost lovers, lost family, and with the urge to cry, scream and laugh at the same time, I just said, “acha papa ko zara waapis phone pakdana”*.
*could you pass the phone back to dad please?
Monday, April 23, 2018
Do you ever just get tired of repeating the same patterns in your life fully knowing how stupid and fucked up they are? Ok, I am SURE I am not the first non-hetero to have fallen for straight boys/men. God knows I survived 2 years of my high school by imagining Twilight to be my life. You remember that scene? When Bella is sitting for lunch and she sees Edward for the first time? When he enters? I used to re-live that scene again and again in my head, with Gaga's Starstruck playing in the back. Imagining one of my batch mates as Edward Cullen (lol, don't judge), only to be told, in reality, that I will never be his Bella :(
|Forever and always 💔|
So the thing is that I DID stop wasting my time and efforts on straight boys, particularly post two very idiotic episodes in college. Long story short: I thought I was 'in love' with a boy who obviously didn't reciprocate. He started dating a good friend of mine and stupidly, in jealousy and out of million insecurities I cut off that friend from my life. (Don't worry I did apologize to her and promised that I WILL NEVER LET MEN GET IN THE WAY OF MY FRIENDSHIPS!!!!! This apology happened 3 years after me cutting her off, but who cares! We all make mistakes!) Then in my final year of college, I got sexually involved with another straight(?) batch mate, who was one of my (ex) friends' then boyfriend. Mostly, this involved us meeting in secret, late night in the boy's hostel and me choking on his dick. All I remember is that his dick was small (and I think one of the reasons for him being overtly aggressive and constantly getting into fist fights with people) and that it used to smell of Lifebuoy soap. He wanted to fuck me and there was only so much I would cheat on my (then) boyfriend. (yes, I am a terrible person, so fuck you too). Later he turned abusive and harassy and lot of people never believed a word of it because he was a man's man you know? But I digress!
After hooking up with this boy, I discovered a thing about myself which I hadn't really recognised before. I had a kink for my female friends' boyfriends. And of course, I have psychoanalysed this trait to death. This could be because I could never really get any crush of mine, who would mostly be straight men, to desire me back. It could be because generally straight men would rarely figure out in my social/friend circles and these boyfriends would be the only ones I would actually interact with. I don't know. But I started living in this perverted (or not so perverted) fantasies of sharing these boyfriends? This sharing wouldn't involve the nonsense straight couple do everyday though. I can't do these random calls asking for each other's health, or whether the other person has eaten yet or not. Even if this was all happening in my head! Yuck. It would mean me checking out their dick pics, vicariously having sex with them by discussing each and every detail of my girlfriends' sex life, me pretending to care about these boy's life ambitions and family problems and giving my support here and there, passing a mutual nod in the corridors of boy's hostel but only looking in their direction when they are only in their towels stepping out of their rooms for a bath. For the ones who were in a 'long distance relationship', I would obsessively stalk them, try starting a conversation with them, look for excuses to establish some bro connections with them. I knew that that there was zero possibility of maintaining any relationship with these boys had it not been for their relationships with my female friends. They weren't obligated to stand up for me in their own bro circles, or stop others from making fun of me. And I never expected them to.
Thankfully, now, I have a little self-dignity in life. Or atleast I pretend to. I have stopped leching after these stupid boys. Ok I am kidding. I haven't. Lelz. What is it about emotionally unavailable straight men that just gives me the biggest hard on? Lately I have started unfriending/unfollowing men who my friends have a fall out with. Why do they deserve my time? Why should I fuel their egos? Why should I validate their existence! I am also tired of just intellectualising every experience in life to reconcile with how fucked up these situations make me feel. Rationalising my behaviour or analysing straight men's refusal to understand queerness is not going to help. Because I thought that I am becoming my high school/college old self again, I started making myself believe that hey! I am not just desiring them because they are my friends' boyfriends. I like them because they are actually interesting people! No.
I just feel tired. Of constantly making the same mistake again and again, of desiring these men. Which essentially just translates to desiring loneliness. I feel stupid for feeling joy whenever my friends tell me that their boyfriend(s) ask about me. I feel like an idiot for feeling nervous whenever my friends discuss possibility of getting back together with these stupid men because in my head, I feel like I am getting another chance with them too. Ugh. And we all know how stupid straight men's chest suddenly fucking swells up because gay guys are hitting on them. Anyway, I don't really have a solution to this problem. I mean....is it even a problem? Perhaps it's fine to be motivated by fantasies? Perhaps it's okay to have non-reciprocated relationships as long as you can control the extent of it?
God, I feel like reading Twilight again!