Archive for glbt
Day 10,290 – Wednesday – 26 Agrahayana 1930 – 18 Zilhaj 1429 – 17 December 2008
So, the other day, I met up with a gay friend of mine. Nice guy. Very very good looking. Single. And looking. So, if you are interested, drop me a line. He has all of my good qualities, and to top that off he is fair, beautiful, well built and charming. So, a very good catch. Applications are welcome Monday through Friday from 1900 hours to 0900 hours and even during the day timings on the weekend.
So, two young gay guys, both single and looking, in the same car. The discussion on homosexuality was inevitable. We discussed all the different sorts of guys one meets. How society has shaped them. And how they behave.
There is the i-am-pure-top guy who is an absolute dick, extremely desirable, but completely deflated after an initial burst of producing interest in oneself. And yes, if you are not going to give a blow job, and touching cum is disgusting to you, dude, you are str8, so stop fucking guys simply because you could not get a girl (this is not meant to offend guys who are actually gay and have feelings similar to what I have written above). You can blow me or get the fuck out of my bed.
There is the i-am-oh-so-effeminate guy who is an absolute woman, says he is masculine, then plays with his extremely well maintained eye brows and bats his eye lashes at the waiter shamelessly. Ok, so when we were talking on the phone, why the fuck did you have a fake voice? And why the hell did you tell me that everyone tells you that you are so str8 acting. Dont you think I will see through the ten pounds of hair product, obscenely manicured eye brows, incredibly slated gait and demeanour, and the eye lash batting. Oh please! Dont lie to me, and if you did, you had better sleep with the waiter.
There is the i-am-so-fashionably-cool guy who is in showbiz, says he cares about people and is down to earth, but he has the ego the size of my dick when it is erect (read huge) and the huge flowers on his shirts make him look incredibly gay, and yes, everyone knows that you are gay because your clothes scream it out, and to top it off, if you make fun of my French Pronunciations, you are an elitist dick, even when you are mis pronouncing every Urdu word by default because you want to make sure that you dont seem like you know the language spoken in your city by 99.5% of the people.
There is the i-am-so-emotionally-needy guy who would want to talk on the phone all the time and thinks it is romantic and not creepy, but he doesnt realize that there are people who have jobs and lives and will greet you at 7 pm by “did you remember me now after the whole day?”. My reply until now was, I am so sorry, I thought that since we talked on the phone for two hours last night, one hour of which I was begging you to let me go, I can not call you till seven today. My reply, from now onwards is going to be, shut the fuck up and suck my sugar frosted dick, biyatch.
Oh and yes, sorry, but the quality of your skin is not the only good thing about you. Brainless idiot.
We also decided that in spite of these, and oh so many other negative stereotypes there are many good guys out there, we have both been with some.
And then we started discussing which hotel in Karachi is the best. For having sexual trysts in. We did not reach an agreement. I liked Beach Luxury and he liked Hotel Mehran. Oh well! Maybe ill try it next time.
Day 10,152 – Tuesday – 10 Asadha 1930 – 26 Jamadi us Sani 1429 – 01 July 2008
Being a gay guy in Pakistan means a lot of things. One of them means that one has to go the extra mile to find other people. Since I am very bad at keeping friendships / acquaintances intact in the gay circle I need to find new people online all the time. There is a very small group of gay people, about four or five, who I am in regular contact with, and recently they have even set me up with a couple of guys. But, suffice to say, the internet is the primary medium of finding sex, lust, affection and love in my life. Could things be geekier. No. Could thing be wierder in the Pakistani environment. Yes. Thankfully for me. Despite be delightfully insane I am only marginally lower than the national average. Good for social life, bad for overly sensitive self elevating ego.
Of course there are so many absolutely interesting things emanating from the whole concept of internet based dating that I would be exceedingly cruel, stupid and boring not to recount some of my favourites.
Of course the most interesting of all is the details. In order of appearance these are; the first question asl (age sex location); the second tbvo (top bottom versatile oral); and the third stats (general idea of visual appearance). Then there is some descriptive discussion and eventually there is the exchanging of the name and email and phone number. Now, the rule is, you can lie about your name (only if you in the closet). That is it. You can not lie about any of the other details. If you are 6’0 high, then you can not tell me 6’2 because when I meet you I am going to fucking see through that. You fucking imbecile. You can not fucking lie about direct physical appearance cues. Moron! So, I get this guy today, he tells me he is 28. Then after we decide on where and when to meet, he asks me “what is your real age?”. I tell him “It is the same as the fake age I gave above, what is your real age?”. It was 30. Idiot. I decided not to suck his dick in the next 20 minutes when we were supposed to get together. And of course, the same goes for penis size. Dude, if it is 6 inches I will know. Dont tell me it is 7.5 inches. Or I will leave you hard and dry, in bed, like I did another jerk. I mean, fucking idiots. Do they think everyone else is blind. And of course the lying only makes it worst when you are discovered.
So, people out there. Please do not lie about things. Because when you do get someone interested in you. It will be worthwhile. And the sex will be, oh so much better!
There was this guy I met a couple of days earlier. Nothing. So, I decided to send him an sms stating, “Dude, lets just not continue this. It would never have worked out in any way”. I get a reply, “Who is this?”. To which, after much relief I replied, “Good. Done!”. And as simply as that, the whole thing is over. I love language.
Oh, Oh, Oh! I met this married guy online. According to him, he is a pure top. Question – What the fuck is a pure top? Is it a bottle headed moron who can not understand that sex is about pleasure? I dont care about the answer, I am fucking him anyways. Also, according to him, he takes a very long time, so I need to be ready to suck for a very long time. Very good. More dick for me! Moron dick that is.
As a matter on enquiry, to ask what my other friends, gay friends, think of the situation. I asked them if it was ok to sleep with a married guy. So, six out of six friends recently polled were of the opinion that it is perfectly ok. There were two basic opinions. The first one was that the management of his marriage and relationships is his problem and his issue and does not concern me. The second one was that married guys are amazing in bed and hence must be allowed to conduct their handywork. Good!
Day 10,101 – Sunday – 21 Vaisakh 1930 – 05 Jamadi ul Awwal 1429 – 11 May 2008
Over the past three days I have been immersed in the concept of friendship. What is a friend? What are friends? How does one become a friend? How does one feel about friends? Why do you take money from me and not return it? Why do I keep the books I borrow from them? And why the hell does NA not follow the codes of conduct of Pakistan male friendship groups. I shall provide a little bit of perspective below.
Pakistani men are a rare breed. In any group of Pakistani male friends conversation revolves around consistent badgering of one of the group by all the others. Generally there is an inevitable policy of turn based circulation of responsibilities. So, if twelve people heckled the fuck out of me last night, I will be doing it to someone else tonight. Love it. But over the course of time some people are selected for this honour more than others.
Now, those of you who belong to the global social subset known as Pakistani-men-who-socialize-with-other-Pakistani-men know exactly what I am talking about. Those of you poor dear extremely unfortunate souls who do not belong to this group will not, can not and will never understand what I am talking about. Pity.
The mere beauty of spending six hours with your friends when eight people just break apart every aspect of your personality in every possible manner and find something ridiculously unacceptable with it and share it with the group and other people pick up on it and add to it. Six hours. A complete definition of yourself and everything that you are about. Amazing.
And then of course, when it just doesnt feel right, and no one has a bulls eye on their forehead, then the group just ends up discussing something absolutely useless and futile. Like yesterdays five hour long discussion on Pakistan, its future, whether we should make a difference or run away, whether we can make a difference, and why does Laetitia Casta have such beautiful boobies. For a gay guy my description of the boobies was very highly rated and one of my friends even went forward to the extent of labling me a closeted hetrosexual with a love for boobies.
I mean, all men love nipples. Gay or straight. Men love nipples. Get over it. And we are also all about the looks. And we fall in love differently. And we will not give you flowers all the time. And we will not tell you that we love you. And we will not treat sex as a gift. And we will not let go of the remote. And we will not stop meeting our friends. And of course, we will love sex. Get the fuck over it.
I am thinking about starting a relationship advice and another gay advice blogs. Dont know if I should go ahead with it.
Day 10,069 – Wednesday – 20 Chaitra 1930 – 01 Rabi us Sani 1429 – 09 April 2008
So, I came out to two friends today. Both guys, both from when I joined work. Both have been working with me for three years now. I am getting better at this. There was the initial shock at what I was actually saying. Then there was the incessant dont-joke-with-us thing. After that came the if-this-is-a-joke threat. Finally they settled down.
Being guys, I had to hear a lot of jokes! And I am sure I will.
But now, everyone around me, who I care about, knows. So, basically, I am good to go.
Day 10,035 – Thursday – 27 Safar 1429 – 16 Phalgun 1929 – 06 March 2008
I am gay. I have told me father, mother and sisters about it. They find it disgusting, wrong and morally corrupt. They are not ready to accept that I am gay, after some time they have accepted that I have been corrupted by someone, they are not ready to accept it and I can not do anything about it. I am ok with being gay, and I do not put any restrictions on the lives of the rest of my family, live and let live. But the same principle is not applied to me.
I want to be gay. I want to live a life of my choosing. That is not possible if I live with my parents like all other normal Pakistani guys. Again, I do not put any restrictions on anyone else, but my life is made hell.
I want to live separately. I told my parents about this and I also told them that I am very different from them and the things that I want are very different from everyone else. One must make allowances for people who are different. And I shoul. d be allowed to live separately, that in my eyes was the only way for me to lead a life of my choosing. Family had issues, could not be done.
I am selfish. I was told that I am extremely selfish for wanting to do this even when I know it will hurt my family. I dont want to do it because it will hurt them. I am not going to do it. But, living a life that I dont want to live, I am never going to be happy.
I am obsessed with one thing. Why do you want to give up everyone because of one thing (read, sex with men). The answer is that, I dont want to. Just that you guys will not allow me to. So, I can as a human want two things. But obviously I am not going to get either one of the two.
I hate my family. I am heartless and do not love anyone and that is why I want to live alone. Also, I am selfish and do not care for others and I am not ready to sacrifice for the family as I should. Why doesnt the family just sacrifice two things for me, let me live separately and let me lead a life of my choosing. Where the fuck is that sacrifice?
If I feel that my past three years have been wated because I was not allowed to live alone it doesnt mean that there is anything wrong with anything. Acutally, there is, this means that I have failed as a person. Everyone 3-4 years I will feel sorry for not having done things differently in the past. This one experience proved that this is how I will be. Noone wants to live in a state of consistent defeat, forced conditions and mulling over loss.
I should not have been allowed to live separately because I would have gotten into bad habits and also because I was completely unable to take care of myself. First, not your decision, it was my decision. Second, everyone learns, so would I have. Thank you for wasting my time and my life. I dont hate you. But, for not letting me live, I am sure you hated me.
What the fuck to do with my depression. I dont know. I dont care. I dont give a fuck.
The scariest part is that, after I have been screaming out that I need to be allowed to live my life, and been rejected over and over again, my will to live has died out, and as of this moment, I have no interest in being alive, the only thing keeping me alive is my inability to articulate the above sentence properly enough to explain to myself why me life means something to either me or someone else.
I have realize that if over a period of time, someone is stifled, be they right or wrong, or whatever the fuck, they will slowly die from inside. And I think, that stage has hit me. I have died from inside. Nothing holds meaning for my any more. And I dont care about anything.
Even if you think that someone else is wrong, but if they decide for something in their life, please for God’s sake, for the sake of all that is good in this world, please let them live the way they choose, and please dont kill them. Stopping someone from choosing their life is akin to murder.
Sunday – 07 Ziqaad 1428 – 27 Kartika 1929 – 18 November 2007
All the trials and errors have been completed. And I stand ever so more on the brink of insanity. The extreme level of tension in my mind between the choice of two equally painful paths into my future. Fear of hurting anyone I love. Fear of hurting anyone else. A desire to lead a life of my own choosing. Extreme anger and disgust at not having led a life of my choosing. Feeling stupid at having told me father about being gay. Feeling stupid at having told my mother about being gay. My whole world has been crashing down on me for the past two months. And all I did was to avoid it. As I avoided it with over work for the past four years.
I have started getting up early, getting ready for work in ten minutes, getting to work at eight thirty in the morning and involving myself upto my head with work. So much so that I can not at times even shake hands with people. Not giving myself even two minutes to think about how fucked up my life is. And then coming back home at about twelve, from work. No time to think about anything in my life. For each and every one of the past four weekends I have for all practical purposes hovered on the brink of oblivion. I have actually realized that I may have ventured too far away from sanity on some occasions. As I probably am now. There is only one thing that provides support right now. Typing typing typing typing and typing.
I have been thinking about this so much. And everything I think and I know, I loose. It is like smashing against a cliff. I talked to my sisters and my parents. They still dont understand. My mother still thinks that she is doing a good thing for me. They think that I need to be brought to the true path.
This is not the fucking middle ages. I can not fucking cheat on my wife. All gay men used to get married only because it was socially acceptable for people to sleep around. And they did do that. Now you cant. I can not. Fuck. Fuck. I think my family still has a notion that I need to be brought to the true path. My mother, poor woman with the idiot son who actually did something so stupid to tell her that he is gay, actually started this prayer and then she sprinkles my pillow with water to drive away demons or whatever it is. That is how we handle problems in my family. The previous time I was going through a bad phase, at about the time I started writing this blog, they said that someone has done magic on me and that is why I am being like that. No. Wrong answer. Try to solve the problem medically. Similarly this time. Water sprinkling. What a proper way to solve problems.
I think ill go to sleep. There is no amount of ranting that can satisfy even one iota of my being right now.
Sunday – 29 Shawwal 1428 – 20 Kartika 1929 – 11 November 2007
So, I finally came out to my father. Late last night we were having a long discussion on my engagement and my relationship with my fiance, which by the way are not going all that well. During the discussion, I felt a sudden breakdown of things. I could feel my though processes breaking down. I had a complete unability to focus or think or pay any attention to what my father was saying. All that was left of the voices in my head were two voices contradictory and conflicting. One of restraint urging me to keep quiet about my homosexuality otherwise I would end up hurting my father. The other of action urging me to let my relationship with my father be based on the truth of circumstances and not the deceitful layers of submission.
And while this argument was going on in my head, I just blurted out, abruptly, and with no build up to my father that I was gay. The sudden declartion scared me as it shocked my father. I had never until now, in my whole life, done something before the voices in my head had had a chance to come to a decision. This was a first, and even that on such a delicate matter.
All that said, amidst two hours of awkward silences and the strangest of discussions I think my father has come to accept the fact that I am indeed gay. I think I have fallen in his eyes. I could sense clearly from his tone and his words that he feels that his bloodlines and his future generations have floundered upon dangerous territories. I just dont know how to rectify that. During the discussion I told him that I will get married and try to lead a normal life. But, I don’t really know what he feels or thinks right now. I guess only time will tell.
I still want to be just like him when I grow up.