Tag Archives: Love

An Additional 25 Men Not To date in 2017

25 other guys 1x1

There are a great number of great men in this world.

You can probably count them on one hand. In this haystack of hot men (or lack thereof), there are sadly, only a few shiny needles that you want to take back home. Unfortunately, the world is full of wrong men that you’d never want to see ever again, in a haystack or otherwise.

Is there a test that helps you sort out the frogs from the fresh-faced Prince Charmings? Not really, but if your potential playmate checks off any of the items of this list then it’s probably a good idea to leave him in the pond you found him in.

You did great in bypassing The 75 Boys Not To Date in 2017 here, here and here , but you still have a long way to go. Ready to start counting?

So never date a man who…

  1. Addresses the wait staff rudely.

A wise man once said, ‘Never judge a man by how he treats his equals, but by how he treats his inferiors.’ Okay, it was Sirius Black in the Goblet Of Fire.

2. Calls you ‘baby’.

You see that tremor on my face? It’s not love. And never will be.

3. Wears slippers with trousers.

You know that moment when you see slippers sticking out of trousers? It’s that precise moment when my mind shuts down and I start singing Taylor Swift’s ‘We Are Never Getting back Together’ in my head, when in actuality, I am singing sweet nothings into the boy’s ears.

4. Uses more than one hash tag in a tweet.

#It #Is #Not #Cool #When #You #Talk #Like #This.

5. Has drunken stories from Tuesday night.

No one should ever have drunken stories from a Tuesday night. They aren’t called the Terrible Tuesdays without a reason, are they?

6. Posts more than one selfie a week.

Negative credits if any of these are included: the duck face, gun flexing, trial room testing and the classic ‘t-shirt lift to reveal a bed of abs’.

7. Tells you that Murakami is his favourite author.

He’s probably only read Norwegian Wood.

8. Doesn’t eat the crusts of his pizza.

Picky eaters never make for good lovers. Trust me. Also, that crust? That’s sex on a plate.

9. Doesn’t really have friends his age.

You know what that means? It means that entire generations of people have obviously avoided him for a reason.

10. Repeats his jokes.

If people didn’t laugh at your joke the first time, it’s obviously because they didn’t get it. Right?

11. Signs off his emails with an inspirational quote he’s picked off the Internet.

Are we living in 2002 again? Keep it simple, crisp and end it with your last name.

12. Expects you to instantly fall in love with all his favourite things.

‘Oh wow, Quantum Physics is so much fun,’ said no one ever.

13. Says he is always busy.

You know what he actually is? Full of excuses.

14. Starts off a story with, ‘That one time I beat someone up…’

‘Nuff said.

15. Thinks that women are feminists because they want it easy.

I am sorry, but you have it easy because you are a male chauvinist pig.

16. Thinks that it’s cool to make racist jokes.

The only thing that is even less funny than him is my diet.

17. Texts you way too much.

‘Hi!’

‘Good morning!’

‘What’s happening?’

‘I am bored.’

‘What did you have for lunch?’

‘Are you busy?’

‘Hello?’

‘Good night!’

18. Sneezes without covering his mouth.

Get out of this faster than his germs get to you.

19. Doesn’t like brunch.

Only evil, heartless people don’t like brunch.

And restaurant owners who have lunch deals.

20. Thinks that Instagram is a waste of time.

Hello, you are a waste of time.

21. Only texts you post-midnight.

No, he’s not texting you to wish you good night, he’s texting you to find out whether he can come over. But not in a romantic ‘Should-I-get-you-soup?’ kind of way.

22. Uses the word ‘fetch’ in conversation.

Stop trying to make ‘fetch’ happen, Gretchen.

23. Hasn’t watched Mean Girls ever.

If you haven’t watched this Tina Fey beauty, which defines the crux of every gay person’s high school years, we are no longer friends. You can’t sit with us!

24. Tries to dress sexily at the gym.

We do not care if your vest matches your shoes, sir, but can I use the treadmill, please

25. Writes listicles about what kind of men not to date.

Sounds like a total douchebag, but I’ve heard he’s a good kisser.

Do you think there are even more wrong men out there for everyone here? Tweet me and let me know!

The Seven Straight Guys You Should Stop Flirting With

 

Amrai_TheGuysexual thorny plant- Straight men to stay away from

 

When you are growing up as a gay man, you realise that most of your relationships with straight men (just like your relationship with dead lifts) can never be easy. What do we talk to all our fathers, our brothers, our cousins and our many girlfriends’ husbands, boyfriends and significant others about?

Do we talk about the difference between single malt and double malt whiskey? Do we talk about the backward English pass in billiards?  Do we discuss (at great length) the pickup of the Audi Q2 versus the BMW X1? Well, we’ve got Google, and I still can’t say much.

Like I said, it’s not easy.

A decade ago, when I was younger and more socially awkward, I would get the nervous sweats whenever I was introduced to a straight man. What if he mocked me? Made fun of my nasal twang? Ridiculed my niche taste in pop music (read: Katy Perry)? Or the way my hands flapped at my sides when I wasn’t holding up a drink?

Instead, I would rush over to their sisters and girlfriends, and instantly bond over the newest episode of Gossip Girl or how delicious Ryan Gosling looked in his latest RomCom. Countless experiences and many sob stories later, I was in a constant state of worry. What if these men thought that I was secretly in love with them? What if they felt threatened and insecure (just like I did)? What if they thought I was staring at them (or worse, their privates)?

Almost never, boys. Almost never.

But it’s 2017, and we’ve entered (figuratively, obviously) a new generation of straight men — the ones who are charming, and don’t think twice about harmlessly flirting with you.  They are the ones who have shifted from the spectrum of open fear to open curiosity — open to the idea of wearing male rompers, open to the idea of discussing (at great length) the net worth of the Kardashian sisters, open to the idea of a hug that lingers for just the slightest second.

But while these men might seem perfect and straight out of an indie movie, it’s always a good thing not to get too ahead of yourself.  That never bodes well for anyone. So before you make sure you don’t misinterpret his mixed signals and get carried away by his poetic fluidity, here are the seven straight men you should be wary of:

Mr Bartender

The bartender is every gay man’s wet dream.

He’s a man who can handle his alcohol (pun intended), plus he’s great at showering you with attention and double meaning innuendos (when he’s not showering you with great customer service and free drinks).

The bartender is a man of actions. He’ll not so subtly praise you on your choice of drink, might wink at you suggestively as he passes over your change, and maybe even lick his lips seductively as he pours you an (extra) measure of single malt. Customer might be king, but that still doesn’t mean our flirty Mr. Bartender wants to be your queen.

At the end of the day, just remember one thing — his interest in your job, your mother’s side hobbies and what you had for lunch last Tuesday, comes with an ulterior motive.

He’d rather you leave a hefty tip behind, than your phone number.

Mr Drunk

The thing about Mr Drunk is that he’s so far gone, that he probably won’t (or will at least pretend not to) remember flirting with you last night. Six shots of tequila and three towers of tap beer aside, our man has had so much to drink that he’d probably hit on the barstool if he could (which he probably already did).

Do yourself a favour. Send him back to his table, and drop him an aspirin for his morning after if you can.

Mr Feelings

Mr Feelings is a sensitive straight man, who likes to paint and drink chamomile tea. He lives by himself in a tiny studio apartment, and spends his Sunday evenings doing crossword puzzles. Sometimes, when he’s bored, he pulls out a book of Rumi’s quotes, and ponders about life (and the loneliness of it).

Mr Feelings is vulnerable at the moment, and just wants to feel loved. But beware; he’d trade you over for his grandmother.

Or worse, yours.

Mr Ennui

With his indifference (but with just the right amount of interest that makes him look endearing), Mr. Ennui can be the quintessential gay guy that every man would like to take to bed. He’s suave, he’s attentive, he’s charming, but yet, he’s all of the above without being the slightest bit offensive.

But the truth is, Mr Ennui is only one thing: He’s bored. He’s not flirting with you because he’s interested in you (or your manicured fingers); he’s flirting with you because there’s no one else around. Hold on to those horses that whisk you off into wedded bliss, boys, because he’s only going to be the charming dreamboat till his girlfriend swoops in (and yes, there will be a girlfriend). Once she does, he’ll go back to being his clueless ‘I-thought-I-was-talking-to-a-straight-guy’ self.

PS: He might even part with a fist bump if he thought things got too awkward.

So keep those hands to yourself.

Mr Narcissist

We all like to feel attractive, and some of us (when we are not feigning modesty and throwing around a general air of being nice), also like to be told we are so.

For most straight men, there are various levels to the ladder of attractiveness — from ‘look-at-how-well-he-handles-a-baby’ and ‘wow-he’s-so-rugged-when-he-opens-a-Nutella-jar’ to ‘He’ll-look-so-much-better-out-of-the-suit-than-in-it’. You get the gist.

Mr Narcissist, on the other hand, feels that being objectified by a gay man is the highest rung of the ladder (and we all know how men like to be on top). He’s not gay, he’s just curious why you, as a red-blooded gay man are not head-over-heels in love with him, and craving for every square inch of his not-so-square body.

Mr Narcissist’s biggest mystery to crack, is simply wondering why you aren’t salivating over him, the same way you’d salivate over an iced mojito on a balmy summer day.

Keep him wondering, guys, and pass me that mojito instead.

Mr Husband

Mr Husband misses his wife. Mr Husband misses his children. Mr Husband misses his dog. Mr Husband misses the physical touch.  Mr Husband misses the sex. The only thing that he doesn’t miss?

His cue to behave, and just go back home.

Mr Nice Guy

Mr Nice Guy might be the most harmless of the straight men that you need to stay away from, but also the most confusing.

Maybe he was a bully back in high school and wants retribution. Maybe he just wants to compensate for the generations-worth of atrocities thrown your way by other (less sensitive) straight men. Maybe he just wants you to know that not all straight men think that you want to hit on them. Maybe he wants a gay friend to wingman for him. Maybe he’s just curious. Maybe there’s a chance he’s closeted and just giving you mixed signals.

Mr Nice Guy will always be full of manners and maybes. But then again, he probably signs off all his tweets with #NotAllMen.

Happy Endings: Myth or Miracle?

 

Gay Marriage (1)

Rohit, a business consultant from New York, met his husband when he was 24 years old. Hours into a special LGBT Holi Night at the local bar on a crisp March night, they locked eyes over a jazzy Bollywood number.

‘It felt simple, the spontaneity.’ Rohit tells me on chat. ‘Ravi asked me for dinner the very next day, and I said yes.’

How did he know it was one for the long run?

‘Immediately. I had hardly expected that I would meet someone who would understand my journey as a brown man, a gay man, and an immigrant — and here he was, someone who understood all three. We didn’t have to explain ourselves to each other, we found home.’

The proposal happened years later — over a quick Euro trip (Rohit’s first) during the summer. The question was popped over a bottle of Veuve Clicquot, in the their hotel room in the middle of Champ-Elysees. They shared half a dozen macarons after, and celebrated at a gay bar with go-go dancers all night long. It was all very fabulous.

‘What has marriage been like?’ I ask.

‘When we were getting into it, it was for very practical reasons, even though we knew that we were in it for the long haul. Marriage gave us legal guarantees of (hospital) visitations, inheritance, and partnership we wanted. People treat our relationship with greater weight and respect, now that the government sanctions it.  Also, there’s certainly a greater degree of closeness that comes with making vows — inviting 70 of your closest friends to come dance the night away — that is hard to describe. ‘

They both seem content with their lives — Ravi runs a bar in Philadelphia today, and they plan to raise puppies in a world that is both, peaceful and inclusive. It’s a wonderful plan for their future. I feel a dull ache in my chest as I type out my goodbyes, but I know it’s only the beginning.

Marriage, children and a house with a white picket fence might necessarily not be the dream for a lot of gay men anymore (I’d prefer a sea-facing studio apartment and a long distance relationship any day), but my friends, Bikram and Wren share a similar story across the Atlantic.

27-year-old Bikram is an environmental scientist based in Switzerland. Wren is a Human Rights consultant. They both the save the world, when they are not saving each other.

Their first date was a disastrous dinner at home. Bikram turns beetroot red even when he thinks about it today: ‘I word-vomited through three courses of dinner. Somewhere over the entrée, I thought I would never see him again.’

Bikram found it embarrassing. Wren found it endearing.

Two years later, they moved in together.

They decided to get married while on a walk, one wintry evening. There was no grand declaration of love. No rings in champagne glasses. No elevator ride on the Eiffel tower. No planetarium full of stars. No macarons, and definitely no go-go dancers.

It just made sense — it was one of those things that had to be done, the end of one journey, the beginning of another. They didn’t exchange conventional rings; instead they opted for toe rings at a Tam Brahm ceremony months later. Their parents cried, hugs were exchanged and a new family was made.

‘Have things changed?’ I ask. Domesticity has never been a strong suit for gay men. ‘I’ll tell you a secret,’ he says to me — his voice crackles — it’s the bane of long distance phone calls. I press the phone closer to my ear. Bad reception can be worse than a bad relationship.

‘Do you know what being in a relationship is like? (I actually don’t) Being married is no different; we just have a piece of paper now that lets us address the other as a husband.’ That sounds fair enough, but does that mean they do the crossword on Sundays?

‘We don’t need to do things together. We still lead our lives the way we used to.’ Bikram prefers trance; Wren likes his classical music. They both like chocolate ice cream.

‘Finding your happily-ever-after is not about finding someone who completes you, it’s about finding someone who lets you be. Being accepted for who you are is a powerful aphrodisiac. Do you know what I mean?’

I actually don’t. I’ve been a train wreck of bad decisions, failed relationships and boys who never text me back. But wait, there’s no jigsaw puzzle to be completed?

Only on Sundays, by the fireplace. Sometimes they even bake a cake.

I am only slightly disappointed, but both couples are still surprisingly happy. Their families accept their husbands, and speak to each other on the phone every other weekend. They shop for groceries, cook dinner, do their laundry and watch repeats of The Bachelorette on television. There’s no drama, just domestic bliss.

It’s here. Men are getting married, and society isn’t crumbling.

The cake does though, the one that they bake on Sundays. But still, they genuinely seem to enjoy their delightfully boring routines.

The thing about fairy tales is that we never know what happens after ‘Happily-Ever-After’. Stories end with grand weddings, but there’s no epilogue to tell us what happens next. Sometimes they come up with a sequel, but they skip past the settling in, and head straight to the next big bad — heroes and heroines fighting it out, rather than fighting each other. Fairy tales never have time for the every day and the ordinary. But neither do we.

It’s important not to forget that my friends also live in countries where gay men enjoy the same basic rights that other people do — the chance to make your vows, or even break them. Marriage equality abroad hasn’t just changed reality for gay men, it has also tamed romance.  It isn’t as nuanced as Disney makes it out to be, they all tell me. I’d have to agree.

While gay marriage in India might be a far away ‘fairytale’ concept (side note: But then again, being gay in India is 2017 is like being gay in Europe in the ’50s), we still have a long way to go before we reach our own versions of matrimonial mediocrity. It might take time to reach that point where we bake a cake over the weekend, but it doesn’t mean it won’t happen.

It might take a year. It might take a decade. It might take two. Until that day, I raise a glass to all the brides and groom in the world, and know that if the day comes when I decide to get married, I’d want red velvet cake with cream cheese frosting…

…and preferably a groom who doesn’t run away before I do.

Ask the Guysexual: Love And Other Drugs: Vol. 1

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Gay men have a lot of questions.

Ever had one you were too embarrassed to ask the therapist? A doubt you didn’t know which friend to turn too? A plea that had no solutions in sight? A worry that might seem small to everyone else, but was as big as your crush on Bradley Cooper?

 It’s time to hold on to those message-in-bottles, or the grand trek you plan to make to the Himalayas to question the almighty, because your truly is right here to solve all your dick-related doubts. How do I find love? Where do I meet men? How do I know if my crush is gay? Am I expected to carry condoms for a nightcap? How do I make a clean exit (pun intended) the morning after? Can I wear loafers with a cardigan on a first date? Should I wear a cardigan on a first date? Is the gorgeous man at the gym someone I should pursue over protein supplements and Pilates? Do I need protein supplements to find love?

Find answers to these questions and more in the newest #AskGuysexual feature – Love And Other Drugs: Vol. I:

 

Q. I have this tiny crush on a boy from my French class, but I think he might be slightly out of my league. Should I go tell him anyway?
– Besotted_You
A. I am going to keep this short and simple. There’s only one question you have to ask yourself. Is the boy-in-question Ryan Gosling (or insert-superstar-heartthrob-of-your-choice)?

If the answer is no, then you should just go for it – If they say no, you’ll have a laugh about it in a few weeks, become best friends because the ice will have broken – and then use the story in the toast, when you effectively end up as the best man at his beachside wedding soiree in Goa (where you will hook up with another one of the groomsmen, who you’ll eventually end up dating).

And if your answer is yes, then 200 points to you for being friends with Ryan Gosling in the first place – that’s so much swag; it needs to be sold in a clearance sale. What do you do then?

Just go for it.

 

Q. At the risk of sounding like a sex-craved maniac (which I am not), how soon is too soon to hook up with someone you’ve met on Grindr?

– EzeeA
A. Have I ever told someone that I am Grindr only to find a friend?

Yes.

Has said someone believed me when I’ve said that?

Yes.

Have I laughed out loudly and then chugged a bottle of wine shortly after?

Yes again.

Let’s face it – Grindr is a ticking time bomb for sex – it’s not only about the how or the why, it’s more about the when (and the where, but that is another story) when you are talking about hooking up with the hirsute hottie of the week.

You might not want to sound like a prick (Let’s skip dinner, shall we?) or a prude (why hello there, cobwebs of my underwear!), but ultimately, it’s your decision at the end of the day. One can bonk someone anywhere between the wide spectrum of ‘I-know-what-his-younger-brother-does’ and ‘He-thinks-my-shirt-looks-great-so-I-should-probably-sleep-with-him!’ In fact, if you even give out to someone at ‘Hey-can-I-buy-you-a-drink’, no one’s going to judge you – there’s no such thing as ‘too soon’ in Grindrsville. There’s a now, never and everything in between.

Just make sure you carry a condom.

Side note: Unless the drink is a glass of cheap wine, in which case your choice of drink is more questionable than your choice of how easily you put out.

Q. I’ve been trying to find friends on Tinder since 2015, but everyone I talk to seem to think that I only want to sleep with them. Help me out?

– K. Das
A. Most people like to think of Tinder as the supermarket for singles. You go up and down aisles, picking up the ones you look and swiping off the ones you don’t. Assume you are going to the market to buy avocadoes – you’d buy some, but then you would also end up buying cilantro. And maybe, even some jalapeños. (Side note: hey, maybe you are making some guacamole. In that case, call me over for dinner?) At the same time, some people come to only buy jalapenos. Or oranges. Or apples. Or even toilet paper (well, you get the gist.)

Finding a friend is like buying jalapeños when you want to buy avocados at the supermarket – you don’t decide to, it just happens – unless you end up buying half the hypothetical supermarket, in which case you might need a therapist or just a break from Tinder. Different people want different things, and there’s always a high chance you’d find someone who wants to buy the same thing you do (to make guacamole). All this supermarket analogy aside, here are a couple of questions you have to ask yourself.

  1. Do you have a half-naked picture of yourself up as your display picture?
  2. Are you flexing your biceps in said picture?
  3. Have you ever asked anyone to come over for some ‘Netflix and chill’ without even knowing what Netflix (and chill) is?

If you answered yes to any of these questions, chances of finding a friend on Tinder are going to be slightly more difficult than trying to read the news without having Ranveer Singh plastered all over it. You just can’t help it.

Q. I’ve a very insightful question. Can one ever find true love on Grindr?

– BroZoned4Lyf

A. People find love in the strangest places – at the supermarket (Excuse me, do you want to buy those turnips?), the coffee shop (Hey, is this seat taken?), the bar (Hi, this might sound weird but can I buys you a drink?) the book store (If you like that book, I know just the one that you should buy!) and sometimes even the dentist’s (I am here for a filling, what about you?)

Finding true love on Grindr is a lot like finding true love at any one of these places (Hello, Love your abs. Can we go get a drink?) – just because it happens online, doesn’t make it any less real – it’s like bumping into someone at the book store, only this is not a bookstore, and the bumping happens on the phone. (Side note: there’s a lot more bumping happening all around you, but let’s pretend we don’t notice it, shall we?)

Now go let Grindr be your Fairy Godmother.

Q. I’ve spent the last few nights tossing in bed because I have a huge problem. I might be developing feelings for my best gay buddy, and I don’t know what I should do. What do you suggest?

– LoveLorn2012
A. What have all great Romcoms taught us (apart from the fact that bangs are cool, and you will most likely end up with your high school sweetheart)?

That it’s easier to fall in love with the best friend than it is to fit into your jeans after you’ve had seven burritos at Taco Bell. But then again, life is no Romcom movie. Falling in love with the best friend is always a tricky thing – how close are the two of you to begin with? Do you watch an occasional movie together? Bitch out the new office intern during lunch hour? Braid each other’s hair while watching late night reruns of Grease? (Just kidding, no one braids each other’s hair anymore.)

Do gay best friends work the same way conventional best friends do? There’s always that thin shroud that cloaks every friend we come in contact with – it’s the diplomatic version of the friend-zone, only politer. One minute you are both ogling at that cute boy sitting two tables away from you at the restaurant, and the other you are trying to awkwardly avoid each other. So what do you do if he doesn’t feel the same way?

The thing about great friendships is that they can withstand anything – so if your friend can’t deal with your confession and just not let it go, he probably wasn’t that great a friend to begin with.

If that happens, you can always have a cupcake.

Have questions that you need answers to? Tweet them over to @theguysexual and get them answered in #AskGuysexual’s Love And Other Drugs: Volume II next month!

How I Met My Mother

mom

I met my mother twenty-eight and a half years ago, in the closed ward of a maternity clinic hidden away in one of Bombay’s many suburbs (the only one without a train station to its name, governed by two defunct political bodies, a local slumlord and a seedy bar.)

It was an ordinary sort of day, and the morning newspapers reported nothing interesting – a slight surge in the steadily decreasing share market, the birth of an ageing actress’s secret seven-pound love child and the predictable death of an unscrupulous MLA suffering from pneumonia. Everything would change shortly after.

I came out, bawling; but I wasn’t done coming out yet.

Over the past two and a half decades, I’ve been a brat. I fussed over the excess oil in my meals, grew moody when she wouldn’t reply to my texts, and threw tantrums while out shopping. I was the quintessential gay man in any relationship. Only I was being the quintessential gay man with mom. Was that the end of it?

Nope.

I met my mother all over again, when I came out to her over lemon tea and biscuits, two years ago. Ten minutes of a soul stirring monologue later, she looked at me with one simple question: ‘What do we with all the jewellery we saved up for your wedding?’

And then she sipped at her tea. It was that simple. Other questions were asked over the next hour (How are you feeling? Should I read some books to get on board? Why didn’t you tell us before? Are you happy? But more importantly, are you okay?), but we’d crossed the finish line of acceptance with that one heartwarming, but succinct doubt. Was she happy?

Being the Indian son that I am, I never asked.

Coming out of the closet is no cakewalk, no matter what background you come from or what timeframe you are raised in – your mind will always be a minefield of questions:

Will I know how to do it? (No.) Will everyone accept me for who I am? (No.) Can I pretend none of this ever happened and go back to a straight life? (Obviously not.) Will it all be okay in the end? (Yes.)

Two years ago, I came out to my mum with only one goal. Wishing for a mansion in Los Angeles and a six-script movie deal with Warner Bros. aside, I just wanted her to get on board. Why?

That’s easy: because she’s mom.

I am not trying to discount my dad’s reaction (he was as accepting and jovial as her, if in case you are wondering – he even hugged me awkwardly in the end) but there’s always something more substantial about your mother’s approval. After all, she’s the one who quit her dreams, braved morning sickness apart from nine months of labor, and popped me out with nothing more than a nurse’s hand to squeeze (because you know, she didn’t have the comforts of 2017 at hand).

Or maybe, because I am an out-and-proud mumma’s boy.

My coming out was anticlimactic. There were no tears (apart from mine) or heated words, only tea and heartfelt hugs. I braced myself for things to change slowly. But the ‘Who are you with?’ and ‘Where are you going at this time of the night?’s never came up; neither did passive hints of rebuttal at my sexuality. Yes, she still thinks that I drink and party too much, and work way too little – but she did so even before she knew I was gay.

It wasn’t ‘let’s-find-you-a-boy,’ happy, but it was happy nevertheless.

But that’s the thing. For every story that can turn into a full-fledged Bollywood tearjerker, there are hundreds that never find their happy ending. I know of countless boys whose mothers didn’t dole out acceptance speeches (and unfortunately for some of them, maybe they never will), they just doled out their sons instead.

Rahim’s mother threw him out. Binay’s mother threw out his laptop. Carl’s mother worried that the Devil had brainwashed him. Raj’s mother worried that his friends had brainwashed him. Ankit’s took him to see a psychiatrist. Ali’s took him to see a girl.

Coming out stories are as new as crop tops in the summer, I get that. But this isn’t just a thank you letter to my mom; it is an ode to all the mothers who didn’t feel compelled to sign up their sons for the gay matrimonial (they don’t exist anyway). This is for all the mothers who didn’t tag along for the Pride parade or flash the rainbow flag at a family lunch. This is for the mothers who don’t gush about their son’s boyfriends or help pick out their outfits for fashion week. This is especially for all the mothers out there who don’t want to know all the lurid details of their son’s hidden lives.

Is my mom completely comfortable with my sexuality? Maybe not. Is she curious about the gay life? Not really. Does she love me to death nonetheless? Always.

It wasn’t just my life that changed over tea that evening, my mother’s did too. These are the mothers that often get left behind in the conversation. We hear about the rule makers, the rule breakers, the advocates, the haters and the bigots. But what about the moms who accept things at their own pace?

It’s been a long and bumpy journey, but I know it’s been tougher for my mother. She’s been trying, and I love her every bit for it. In fact, I appreciate her all the more for it – I’m so proud of her, I could be her mother.

To all the mothers who are reading this who will ultimately have to deal with their own child’s coming out, I say this: don’t feel guilty about not being completely on board till you’ve asked all your questions. It’s okay not to be okay. As long as your child is not being made to feel unloved or uncared for, express your love (and confusion). That’s half the battle won. The other half is finding a nice, handsome and charming boy who can spend the rest of his life with your ungrateful child.

Thanks for meeting me on the other side, mom. I promise that it just gets better.

Now about the jewellery you saved for my wedding…

Are You Dating A #BadNewsBoyfriend?

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Twenty eight year old Prerit is a high-flying lawyer, with a high-flying life. He has a sea-facing apartment, a string of celebrity friends and a six figure American salary (with six pack abs).

A fulfilling life and a fully filled social calendar aside, Prerit is currently dating a discreet teacher who teaches primary-level English in an international school – he’s handsome, charming and articulate., and he’s everything Prerit could ever ask for. The only problem?

The Teacher’s idea of the perfect date is not at the top of a high-rise hotel, but between the sheets in the confines of his bedroom. He doesn’t believe in ‘doing dinners’ or ‘watching a movie’ (unless it stars the two of them, and is a home production). If and when Prerit prods, the Teacher tells him that ‘he likes things at his own terms, so give it a rest, will you?’

The Teacher is a classic case of the #BadNewsBoyfriend.

The #BadNewsBoyfriend is smart, good-looking and eloquent, and is usually the living representation of a Habitat For Humanity ad. He cares for the environment, he cares for the world, but he just doesn’t care for you. He might be the nicest person in the world, but he’ll still treat you like you are last weekend’s leftover egg salad (Without the kale, and the avocadoes.)

The one that even your dog won’t eat.

 Like Prerit’s lesser half, how do you know if the object of your affection is less Prince Charming, more Prince Harming? Answer these twelve questions to decide how low the (current) love of your life falls on the boyfriend scale:

  1. It’s your birthday, and your significant other is out of town. What does he do?

a.) Flies down to surprise you, complete with fireworks and a seven member jazz ensemble to serenade you all day.

b.) Calls you at midnight, and couriers you a care package.

c.) Wishes you on Facebook, and sends you a dick pic as a secret treat.

d.) Forgets it’s your birthday.

  1. On an average, he messages you:

a.) Every few minutes. In fact you had to pause taking this quiz, because you were replying to his text.

b.) You wake up to a good morning text, and put yourself to sleep to a good night ping.

c.) Once a day.

d.) Once every week, usually at midnight. Especially when he’s alone. Even more so when he’s horny.

  1. You plan a hypothetical threesome with a celebrity. Your boyfriend chooses:

a.) No one. He can’t think of anyone to share you with.

b.) Ryan Gosling. Have you seen those perfect cheekbones and those kind eyes?

c.) Ranveer Singh, in red underwear.

d.) Hypothetical? He’s already in bed with two guys. Neither is a celebrity, nor is it you.

  1. You’re just back from a nice date, and ping him to tell him you had an amazing time, he:

a.) Replies immediately, with a wedding ring emoji.

b.) Replies within the hour, asking to see you the same weekend.

c.) Replies the next day, with a succinct, ‘let’s hang soon.’

d.) Never replies.

  1. For a quick getaway, you both plan to head to:

a.) Paris

b.) A secluded beach that is a two-hour drive away

c.) The neighborhood mall

d.) Your bedroom

  1. His idea of a casual date for the weekend would be:

a.) Whisking you off to the hills for a panoramic lunch by the Himalayas.

b.) Brunch at your favorite restaurant, with endless mimosas and endless handholding.

c.) A movie, followed by two tacos and a soda to share. Dessert (amongst other things) at home after.

d.) Four hours of NSA sex. Which might include you.

 

  1. The last time you guys hung out, he took a cute picture of the two of you. What does he do with it?

a.) Prints it out and sends it to you through snail mail, attached with a love note.

b.) Puts it up on Instagram with a heartwarming caption. Counts the Likes and tells you about it.

c.) Lets the picture rot away in his archive of spam emails, forgotten contacts and undeleted messages.

d.) Threatens to out you to your parents and the police using the photograph as evidence. Blackmails you for money, and then uses it to holiday with his actual boyfriend. Who’s twice as hot as you are.

  1. At 8: 30 PM, he’s:

a.) With you.

b.) Talking to you.

c.) Doing this own thing, who knows?

d.) M.I.A for the past week, with a ‘last seen at 8:29 PM’.

  1. The last time you had a real heartfelt conversation with him was:

a.) Today. It felt like a Pablo Neruda poem.

b.) Two days ago, after a particularly poignant date.

c.) What’s a heartfelt conversation like?

d.) Does having him send you a dick pic count?

  1. You run into his friends while out on a date, and then he:

a.) Blushes, and introduces you as a date.

b.) Nonchalantly tells them that you are a friend.

c.) Says that you are a second cousin who’s visiting from out of town.

d.) Pretends that you don’t exist.

  1. In the middle of argument, your paramour:

a.) Apologizes and says he’ll never upset you again. Buys you a car to say that’s sorry.

b.) Realizes that things are getting out of hand, and reasons with you. You have amazing make up sex after.

c.) Can’t handle it, and breaks up with you.

d.) Hits you (or threatens to).

  1. A song that reminds you of him:

a.) ‘La Vie En Rose’ by Edith Pilaf.

b.) ‘Yellow’ by Coldplay.

c.) ‘Someone Like You’ by Adele.

d.) ‘Starboy’ by the Weeknd.

 

Mostly A’s:

Like unicorns, mermaids and a size XL at the Zara store, the type A guy doesn’t exist. Perfect men are usually found in whitewashed romcoms and mushy romance novels, not in the dregs of the dating pool. The slim chance that a real-life version of Ryan Gosling’s character from The Notebook shows up on your doorstep (or right swipes on your Tinder profile), he’s only going to resent you when you can’t match his Cartier care packages and Balloon rides across Tuscany with overwhelming displays of affection of your own.

 

That’s not if you are overwhelmed by him in the first place.

 

Mostly B’s

 

Bring out the boyfriend shirts, because this one is a keeper. Somewhere between the eagerness of the type A and the aloofness of type C is your perfect Boy Next Door B. Like butter is to bread, Nutella is to your life, and Kanye West is to Kim Kardashian, this one’s the side B to the side A of your mix tape of love songs.

 

Mostly C’s:

 

We might not be there yet, but you still have to tread with caution with this one. The C type is a ticking time bomb that sways dangerously between ‘I-am-going-to-make-this-work’ and ‘Oh-my-god-how-do-I-get-out-of-this?’ One minute he’s passionate and pulling you closer and the very next, he’s pushing you away to the next boy (or next mistake, because that’s what it will be).

 

At the end of the day, remember that Mr. C is only one Ed Hardy t-shirt (and a twelve pack of beer) away from spilling the contents off your heart all over the floor.

 

Side note: he’ll probably spill the beer too.

 

Mostly D’s:

 

Texts that go unanswered, affection that goes unrealized and money that goes missing? Congratulations! You’ve hit the jackpot on the #BadNewsBoyfriend scale.

 

SPOILER ALERT: This is not going to end well – too many D’s can only lead to one thing: destruction. Our boy in question is so wrong; he could be the front-page headline for bad news.

 

And if that still doesn’t convince you, never forget that D stands for douchebag.

 

The Guysexual’s Guide To Being The Boy

 

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Like the It Girl, The Boy is every stereotypical gay man’s wet dream – he’s the main character of every queer romance novel, and is the (secretly gay) gentleman who all the girls fight tooth and manicured nail over on primetime television. Everyone knows The Boy – he’s spoken about at wine soirees, intimate house parties and exclusive bars, or cooed over at Sunday sundowners, gallery openings and garden bistros (invite only). The society wives call him the most eligible bachelor in town, and although their husbands don’t like him, they all play golf together every second Sunday of the month – in short, he’s everything I’ve ever wanted to be.

In my opinion, The Boy is as much of a slice of perfection as he is a figment of imagination – he’s like an alternative, much-nicer version of Mr. Darcy from Pride and Prejudice, without being the douchebag in the beginning.

But who is The Boy? Where does he come from (and where does he go)? Do you know The Boy? Could you be the boy?

If you don’t have a clue, here’s a checklist that might help:
Continue reading The Guysexual’s Guide To Being The Boy