So, in case I haven’t mentioned, I've recently moved to a highly gay concentrated neighbourhood in the city (It does have some great coffee shops but a bit too many gyms, if you know what I mean). And no, I’m not homophobic. Far from it. I mingle and have gay friends.
I am what the intelligentsia likes to call “liberal” and my mother “why??”, followed by a “I don’t get you. Befriend all this, but please marry a girl.”
So yes, I do befriend all "this".
But then, there are days...
Party 1. Bar near my hood. I think it was a birthday party. And I wear what are my straightest clothes possible. You know, regular fit jeans, black boots, grey polo and a light blue sweater.
(Come to think of it, my wardrobe's become very boringly straight off late - I think it’s my subconscious defense mechanism lighting up to the gayness around me).
Gay boy singles me out in the party and hits on me.
Party 2. Barhopped to another birthday party (don’t too many people get born around this time!). Now with previous incident in mind, along with my straight clothes I wear what is my straightest attitude possible.
But no, not enough. Another gay boy wants my number.
House party near Soho. By now I’ve had enough and am leching at girls just to prove a point. But like a bad bollywood movie you know what's coming next. Right?
Now, as you know, I’m not homophobic. Far from it. But not far enough to like the extra attention in every party. It belittles my self chosen sexual orientation. And that just won't do.
Which is why now, I'm paying my female friends some serious money to hit on gay men. Give them a taste of their own medicine, so to speak, or rather, do.
Also, girls, if a boy's being the lecherous kinds, don’t jump so quickly and be so harsh. He might need pity more than the usual routine you throw his way.