Some things are not over even after the fat lady has sung!

I thought I wouldn't write any more posts about 'coming out' cause I am so over it. I assumed that I had left those days behind in 2009.

However, one day while watching something on the telly, it dawned on me that I would be 'coming out' (advertently/inadvertently) for the rest of my life so why not.

I would be coming out everytime I meet someone new and they ask me about my girlfriend (this is why I simply don't like meeting new people). I would be coming out everytime one of my "friends" on facebook read the favourite music' (Gaga + Glambert among other things) section on my profile and put two and two together. I would be coming out to complete strangers when they see me cavorting with my future boyfriend (who I think will probably always remain hypothetical. But that's a whole another post.) in public.

And that is fine by me. I made my peace with that a long time ago.

It would have been easier if I had a youthful gayface like David Archuleta, but nobody's perfect, I guess.

I had told my sister a few weeks after I told my Dad. There wasn't a lot of drama there, she just said that she just wanted me to be happy. She told my bro-in-law last week. So that completes all the adults in my family.

But to me the big one was my brother, who I happen to casually come out to a few months ago. I finally spelled it out for him and confirmed his worst fears. 

I told him that I don't like teh vajayjay (I call it that not because I can't say V_g__a, but because lady reproductive parts gross me out. No offense, I'm sure all you ladies out there must find it useful, say for holding a pen or twittering or something).

To say he was shocked is sort of an understatement.

However, the whole thing took an unexpected turn.

I was expecting accusations, anger and animosity.

I got none of that.

He was pretty nice about it.

Him and me actually sat down and had a long conversation about it. On top of that, he wanted me to tell him all the details (like since when I have known etc.).

For a while, he was just my big brother!

It was like I was eight again and he was warning the mean fifteen year olds down the street that if they bully me they would have to deal with him or I was in school and he personally drove me to my exam centre instead of letting me take the driver because he knew how nervous I was and would probably throw up on the way and would appreciate having someone familiar tell me that it;s going to be okay. Or he was the same guy who was surprised that his 'little' teenage brother was buying Eminem CDs which had an 'explicit lyrics' warming on the jacket.

So it was perhaps our most adult conversation ever. I told him about my boy crushes. managed to explain the term 'fag hag' to him and even discussed my idea of the future with him.

When I said to him that one day I would move away and leave everyone else in peace so that they don't have to deal with the consequences of me wanting to be who I am, he actually got angry and told me that I was stupid to think that and just because I am gay he or anyone else in the family would love me any less. And that I am still the same brother he's always had, except with a little bit more metaphorical glitter!

To say that I was flabbergasted would be an understatement.

Ever since I've known that I was gay, even back when I was in denial, I use to try to push my family away. I sort off convinced myself that I was doing it for them, so that it would eventually make it easier for them to forget me. However, that was me, trying as always, to make things easier for me.

I can't even begin to describe how wrong I was. However, they couldn't have been more understanding And it makes my heart break that I used to think that they would have been anything but.

I'm not the easiest person to like. But, somehow, my family has been doing it for all these years. And will continue to do it, despite my best efforts.

I know that a larger battle looms ahead. However, the freedom to be me ALL the time, not having to hide who I am from the people closest to me, is a precious gift that I’m glad to have.

So here I am, closing the door to my closet from the outside, thinking of the long time it took for this day to come, and then wondering what all the fuss was about!

This post is not gay . . . not gay at all

Sometimes I wonder what being gay is all about. I mean, is there someplace I need to go and signup for membership? And then get it renewed every year?

Does it change my life so much that I suddenly start enjoying the things I didn't enjoy earlier? Do I have to watch all the episodes of Sex & the City before I join? And do I have to watch every lame gay movie out there even though I won't be able to identify with any of the characters?

(Okay. So what if I will watch any lame gay movie which has gratuitous nudity. Sue me for showing some human emotion. Geez!)

A lot of people around the world say that being gay is a lifestyle. But you don't need to have an IQ of more than 15 to realize that it's not as simple as a lifestyle choice. Being vegan is a lifestyle choice, choosing to drive a hybrid over a gas-guzzling hummer is a lifestyle choice, choosing to have apple cider instead of wine is a fucking lifestyle choice.

How do you choose to be gay? Do people suddenly wake up one day and decide they would like to bang people of the same sex? Does anyone in their right mind think that people would suddenly choose to be something that is fraught with so many complications?

But it's very hard for people to even try to understand how you're just born gay. It's not something you choose. It's something you just know and thanks to society's fake morality, something you ease into.

Why do people fall for society's fake morality?

Well that's because who would you rather listen to? The guy who tells you that you need to be good otherwise God will send you to hell or the guy who says that it's not perverted unless it's forced and unwanted.

People are scared of going to hell. I don't know why. I saw Speed 2. After seeing something so horrid, nothing scares me know. Not even the idea of hell.

See, all religious books are like collections of short stories strung together with a slightly boring narrative. They should learn how to write short stores from Jhumpa Lahri.

What? Am I the only one who loved Unaccustomed Earth?

I mean, c'mon. I believe more in the wicked witch of the west (no, we're not talking about Oprah here) than believe in the one about how heaven and earth were created by God on a Monday morning. I mean I don't know about you, but I pretty much never used to like to work on a Monday morning. I'm pretty sure that God would have done what I did. Pretend to be sick and pocket some free aspirin.

But most people buy into this morals and values stuff and drink the kool aid about keeping up appearances.

Like some members of my family. My Dad and my brother can't even bring themselves to tell people that I currently am in my 'gap' year. Okay, the second gap year has started, but that's my problem. Not anybody else's. However, my brother doesn't see it that way. He sees it as a bad reflection on the family.

We even had a sort of "discussion" about me being gay a few months ago. Remember the pride parade in Delhi? I had gone on a luncheon that day with some of my friends. So my brother reads about it in the papers the next day and assumed that I had gone to the parade. Not only do I feel stupid for not going, he also asks me if I am gay. Now, I didn't want to come out to him at that very moment, because that would have been out of spite, even though I was tempted to very, very much, so I just answered with a "So, what if I was?" And he rambled about how I'm bringing bad repute to our family's name and shit like that. So words were exchanged between us, he said things which he meant, I said things which I meant and people were told where they can go and the word "fuck" was used both as a verb and as an adjective, mostly by me.

Anyways, I'm sure my Dad and Brother will have a lot of words for me when I do eventually come out to them.

But you know what? I really don't care. Because I am what I am. I'm not going to change or be apologetic because of some idea of a perfect world both of them have in their mind. Worst case scenario, they don't be part of my life. You know, I love them and all, but I won't lose any sleep over it.

I can't expect everybody to be as progresive as my Mom.

When I came out to her I never realized what a big bombshell it was for her. The good thing did was continue to talk about it with her. We've had various conversations about my future and being gay and all. At one time, she wondered if I could have my cake and eat it too (with a Tom Cruise/Shah Rukh Khan type of deal). But I told her I'm not like that. Then a few weeks after that, one of my brother's friend came to visit, and she told my Mom that her husband had left her and their kids for another man. So that day my Mom told me that she completely agrees with me that a sham marriage is a really, really bad idea. Really, really bad.

Fine. I'll stop saying really for the rest of this post. But it is a really, really bad idea.

And now, after almost eleven months of knowing that her son is gay, my Mom is actually a tad bit enthusiastic about it.

And no, I don't need anyone to feel bad about the lack of projected support from the rest of my family. Because my Dad knows better than to argue with me and my brother thinks that repeating the last 30% of what the other person just said consists of a comeback.

And the world knows that if I have an argument I want to win, I'll move heaven and earth (well, no one can actually do that, but I do promise to move my fingers. A little bit.) to win it. Even Socrates ended up agreeing with me when I went back in time to argue with him. (Okay. I did not. But Speed 2 reminded me of Speed which reminded me of Keanu Reeves which reminded me of Bill & Ted's Excellent Adventure in which both Bill & Ted time-nap Socrates. I'm really digressing, aren't I? Fine. Be a bitch about it.)


To steal a quote from and end in the spirit of gossip girl,

The truth always comes out, it's one of the fundamental rules of time. And when it does come out, it can set you free or end everything you fought to preserve.

xoxo,

Rambunctious Whippersnapper






p.s. Why does it sound sexy when Kristen Bell says it and so lame when I do?


It's because I'm fat, isn't it?

All that hard work down the drain

You spend your whole life trying to build a reputation. Then, one wrong move and everything you worked hard for is taken away from you.

My whole life I have worked hard towards achieving certain goals. And one mistake, one stupid, silly mistake and all that is no more.

Ever since I was a kid, I have worked and worked to have my family accept me as a no good neanderthal who cannot be trusted to do a day's hard work and who is constantly on acid or some other substance.

Now, a few months ago I my family asked for my help for something. Now when they ask me to do something, I'm usually the LAST possible person they could turn to. So, I obliged. No, not out of any guilt. That's because guilt is mostly for religious people.

Anyways, before this incident, my family was well programmed to ask me for a favor only every six to eight months. And they didn't even trust me enough to walk the dogs. Not that I am a big fan of walking the dogs. I mean, it involves three of my least favorite things. Walking, dogs and helping out my family.

Now ever since I unselfishly granted them that favor, without even debiting the six monthly account, things have started to change.

Suddenly, my opinion is being sought on something. My opinion. You know how dangerous that can be. Last time someone sought my opinion, there were tears, broken bones and the threat of bloodshed. However, certain members of my family have started treating me like some insider. They act like I am part of this social group.

How rude is that?

Just yesterday, my sister asked me to watch one of my nephews. Me. You know, l thought she knew better.

Years ago, a cousin of mine who was not privy to my reputation had asked me to watch her kid. She belonged to a family which believed in the evil practice of vegetarianism. By the time I was done watching the kid, his favorite breakfast was sausage and he started eating Pepperoni pizza every alternate day. Needless to say, I was never asked to watch anybody else's kids again.

Even though, all I did was give the boy a real taste of freedom, no one ever asked me to watch their kids again. I wonder why.

Am I not a good role model or something?

Then there's Dad. Who expects me to help out a little with the business. He thinks that it's okay to ask me to help him with my tax return just because he is preoccupied with something urgent. He thinks I have no life.

I don't. But that's not the point. It's the spirit of the thing, really.

And my Mom. Just because I forced her to fire some of the domestic help because I was allergic to their face, she expects me to help around the house. Do impossible things like making my own cup of coffee.

Ha!! Fat chance of that happening!

I simply order out. Hmph.

This is why I used to have that six month rule. All that is in the crapper now.

Although, now when I think about this, maybe this is a good thing.

Now that my family treats me like I belong, it must translate into more money. Maybe a bigger expense account or something?

Look. I'm all about the silver lining in the dark cloud. Cause when life hands you a couple of lemons, you slice them up and add them to your cocktail.

Isn't that what they teach you in business school?

The one in which we actually think about other people ... well, sort off

So due to some unforeseen circumstances, I was sitting with my family, while they were having a conversation and I was nodding my head to assure them that I haven't slipped into coma. At least on the outside anyway.

Then suddenly this bit about me getting married comes up. Now, my family knows that this subject is not broached with me. But it was a joke, and everyone was having tea, so I let it pass. Another nail in the coffin of my happiness. Why bother, really? Anyways, it was something about building a separate apartment for me in a few years/whenever I get married whatever comes first.

It was assumed that I would actually be staying with my family whence I go back to wasting my life again.

Now don't get me wrong, I wouldn't like anything better than living at a place where the food is good and there is ample parking, but really I don't see this scenario happening.

This is because, well, all the members of my family who are not my mom don't know for sure that I am gay. Of course, they might suspect and hope and pray that it's just a phase and one of those things that boys do like install a basketball board in their yard and never use it or get a weird haircut.

I figure that when I do tell the rest of my family that I am gay, I do intend to move out of this place I currently call home. No, it's not because anyone would say things to me. They know better than that. If I had really cared for their opinion and advice, I would've lost weight ten years ago. That's not the point.

It's that I don't want my family to suffer a smear campaign because of me. I mean I'm used to people looking at me and whispering (Oh, that's his third helping, you know or who the hell wears reeboks with corduroy trousers?). So it's fine by me. I am immune to other people's opinion. That happens when you consider yourself know that you are a superior life form. Anyways, this is not about me. It's about how I don't want my parents to go through all that because of me. Because they have always been respected and spoken about fondly. Even though they have a son like me.

And secondly, when that mob comes to kill me, I just want them to focus on me. Nothing major, I just love the attention.

Hey, turns out I do care about my family. And here I was thinking of selling their secrets for short-term personal gain. Damn you, Oprah.

No, Oprah's got nothing to do with this. I've just always wanted to say that.

Too tired to think of a title

So yesterday, I did something completely out of character and did a task that had been pending for the past two and a half years. No, I did not suddenly wake up and become a do-er of things, it was the absolute last day I could do the task. The final extension had already been granted. I checked. So I pulled up my sleeves (metaphorically only, mind you) and actually finished it.

My parents, who really expected the time limit to lapse and were resigned to another disappointment from me, were surprised to know that I did it a few hours before the clock said that it was midnight.

Strangely, this got their hopes up and they are counting on me to do another thing that has been pending for the past six months.

Six months only? Ha! It's too early and not urgent enough for me to even think about starting to work on it. Hell, I am tired right now and need a break of a few weeks/months.

I mean, parents never learn do they? They always expect their children to come through for them. Even someone like me.

Really, when will they realize that it's not about what I can do for them, it's all about how I can get through life by doing the minimum amount of work whilst getting maximum gains. No, I'm not lazy. That's simple economics. Maximum utilization of minimum resources. Or something like that.

Seriously, aren't I a catch?

My work here is done

So we were expecting a few (or a few dozen, I didn't pay much attention) people for dinner at our humble abode we call home. As our kitchen was temporarily short staffed due to one of our support staff/household help (whatever... I hate the term servants, sounds so 1884) running away (possibly a consequence of some of my actions, but we'll let that be for now), other members of my family were dividing a few tasks between themselves.

And as always, being the shining light onto the world that I am, I decided to volunteer my services to help them (because I felt a bit Christmas-sy, not because I had any guilt. Why would you think that? Geez.)

Right.

Apparently my family thought I was joking. Not that I blame them. So after a few minutes, after the loud laughter subsided, they continued their conversation, ignoring my expert advice.

Afterwards, when everyone went their way, sensing my opportunity, I went to the only person in the whole world who'll endorse my candidacy for President, my Mom. Then the following conversation ensued:

Me: So, Mom i wanna help out . . .
Mom: .. that joke is getting old, now ....
Me: No, seriously
Mom: Ok.... If you really want to help, just get ready on time ...
Me: Sure, I'll do that .. that's reasonable ...
Mom: And by on time I mean before the guests are scheduled to arrive, not when half the evening is over ....
Me: .... Ok, That's a little too much but do-able ....
Mom: And then come out of your room and say HI to them ....
Me: (*rolling eyes*, *shrugs*, *throws hands in the air*) Fine .... if you insist ....
Me: But seriously Mom, I wanna help ... anything I can do ...
Mom: No .. it's ok .... thanks ... it's the thought that counts ...
Me: Mom, please ..... I promise it It won't affect the once-in-six-months-schedule
....
Mom: Ok ... Ok .... Let's see .... if you really want to do something .......
Me: Yeah ....
Mom: Don't call the household help to do small tasks like fetching your shoes from YOUR cupboard ... or getting a can of Diet Coke from the refrigerator .... until the last of the guests have left ...
Me: WHAT? ... *gasp* *gasp* That is blasphemous .....it curtails my fundamental rights guaranteed under the constitution ..... it's forcing me to do something which is not only difficult but quite impossible ....
Me: *regaining composure* *tones down crazy* ... However, If that helps ....
Mom: Yes, it does ......
Me: Ok ..... that is asking too much .... but in the spirit of helping, I will not ask them to do such errr...ummm.... ahem .... *cough* small *cough* tasks....
Mom: Thank you .....
Me: Well, I'm just glad I could help out . . .
Mom: Yes, I don't know what I would have done without your help, son ....

Touché.


You know, sometimes, Mothers say the darnest things!!

For all those naysayers who doubted the degree and extent of my laziness . . . the defense rests. Metaphorically and physically.

Does that count as ...coming out?

I've been meaning to write a post about this for the past few weeks but never got to do it .... So here it is .........


Well, about two and a half weeks ago, while my cousins were over me and my bro had taken them to watch a movie. Well, the movie was horrible, and by the time we came out of the theater, we were quite hungry. However, it was a bit late in the night. So we decided to eat in one of the joints around the theater. So while my suggestions for TGIF and a sushi bar were ruled out my brother saw this new place which had opened up, and which served, what else but Indian food. So we went in their restaurant. Well, it was empty but we could hear music from their nightclub. Since we were with my cousins, my brother went in to see. He came out within a few seconds and told us that we are going someplace else. I was surprised and asked him what's wrong. He didn't say anything but until we were downstairs. So, after being question so much by the others mu brother spilled the beans. He said that there were Gay people dancing in there. I was like WHAT? He said yeah, there were Gay people in there. So I said why did you run out? He said that there were Gay people. I said let's go back there. He said we'll go someplace else.
Then I launched into a speech about homosexuality and homophobia and stuff. So my bro asks me, "Are you Gay?", I answered (quite unconvincingly, I might add) "Are you crazy?". He then said "You are so gay!!". I just smiled weakly. I said I just don't like your phobic attitude and then my cousins changed the subject and we headed to have some Chinese.

So now, as you might ask, why didn't I confirm my brother's suspicion there and then? Well the reason was that my cousins were there with me. And they are the biggest gossip mongers I have ever seen. And they are quite homophobic. And that was not the place. I wanted to tell him one on one.

Having said that, I think on some level my brother knows. Why I say that is because when I saw into his eyes, it was like he knew. Also, a few years ago, when I was in college, he was using my computer and come across a video of naked guys. No it wasn't porn. And some pictures. So he asked me if I was gay and I said I am building a gay website and getting paid for it. There was no website. So, he kind of knows. Plus he hasn't seen me talk about a girlfriend in a long time. And a few months ago, he asked me if I was a virgin and I said something like not been to fourth base with a woman. Something like that. So he HAS to know on some level.

It's not that I don't want him to know. I want everyone I know to know. I don't bother about the consequences. Well, at least sometimes. And I will tell him when it is time. Like when I told my mom. When I had that gut feeling. So when I have that, I will tell him.

But, to my credit, I did NOT get all defensive. I just smiled like a jackass. So here it is, am almost pseudo, coming out.