The First Gay Escapade of a Pakistani
Well. Here it goes.
I have been wondering for a while to start a blog or something about my experiences. We all keep telling ourselves how we have had boring and fucked up lives but in reality, if you think about all that has happened, you might really have amazing stories to tell. This is why I’ve started writing here.
This is probably going to be the diary of a Fickle hearted art aficionado who was born in Pakistan, is Muslim by birth, has an old soul, is a curious being, loves travelling but is too financially dependant to travel, is bounded by societal pressures, hates the societal pressures but somehow keeps caving in and cant decide whether he is gay or bi or just fucked up.
Yes. A Gay Pakistani Muslim. The worst possible combination. Don’t get me wrong, I love my country and my city but I do not like how society operates in this part of the world. This post isn’t about that though. It is about my first homosexual escapade in one of the biggest (also known as one of the most violent) cities of Pakistan. And I will skip all the boring details to jump right to it.
As crazy and as juvenile as it may sound, I saw this guy on TV for the first time. I had been using an alias on Facebook to conceal my true identity because…well…this is Pakistan we are talking about and it was just trepidation. So this one night during winters in December, I decided to Inbox message him. I had been doing this for a while now and had talked to a few guys here and there. Every one used fake profiles and it was just so convenient. And this is waaaaay before Grindr ever existed (to date I still do not understand how Grindr works in Pakistan but it does, for all of you who didnt know already) and I’m 22, just by the way. I got a reply from him in a few minutes and I was surprised, really surprised. I didn’t really expect him to reply because he seemed like a typical Alpha Male and in simpler words — he did not seem gay at all. What did I have to lose? Nothing.
For the next few minutes we talked over Facebook and he started to lose interest because I was not showing him my real picture. I knew in that moment that I could potentially blow up my chance of getting in the bed with this guy who I felt was way out of my league. For him to feel a little comfortable, I just wrote my number and wrote that if he ever felt like talking, he could always text me and pressed Enter.
Within 10 minutes I got a reply from him and I really don’t know why. Maybe he was horny out of his mind or as I’d like to think, I had managed to somehow engage him. We talked over a period of 3 days and texted about things we liked in bed, what we did, where we were from, and all that jazz. I had never slept with a stranger before and I told him. I also told him that I had not tried Anal Sex before and was afraid of the idea of inserting a foreign object into my anus, which he was okay with. So I start thinking to myself, maybe he isn’t a complete sex freak and I might just have a good time with him.
None of my friends new about my homosexual tendencies. Honestly speaking, Pakistanis are homophobic in general, thats just how the society is. It was 2 days after New Years and he wanted to meet up with me. It was like I was living 2 lives; I would live as myself and then every time I got his message, a switch would go off and I would transform into this being (My alias on Facebook) who I really wanted to be . After a long academic day, I went back home and told a few close friends of mine how I found this guy and how this is a social experiment for me and how I wanted to experience new things. And I was truly taken aback by the fact that my friends seemed more ecstatic about the whole thing than me because by this time laziness and fear of the unknown had started kicking in for me. I snoozed off for a bit with all these thoughts in my head about whether I should meet him or not. I woke up with a call from the same friend who was ecstatic about me and this guy, like he was pimping me out or some shit. He called because he was going somewhere and wanted to ask me if I needed a ride to the guy’s place (For the purpose of this post, lets just call the “guy” Zorro).
Zorro lived a good 20 minutes away from where I was and throughout the journey my friend and I talked about random things, completely oblivious to the fact that I was just about to whore myself out to a complete stranger. It took us a while to find his house but when we finally got outside his house, I remember I could feel my heart palpitating. I was nervous as FUCK. And in a hurry I said my goodbyes, my friend (pimp) wished me good luck and left.
I could hear his dog bark from behind his gate and I started to lose my shit. On top of it all, I was late for the dinner that Zorro had planned for us because
- I had slept for quite a while.
- I planned to bail on him.
- I couldn't find his house.
But then, he opened the gate with a lovely smile and gave me the warmest hug. I think I fell in love with him right there and then. His dog was going ballistic and I did not want to lose my leg on my first real date with a gay guy so Zorro held the dog, like a macho man, and asked his cook to escort me to the lounge where dinner had been served. I dont think I would ever be able to get over how amazing the ambience was. His house was an absolute piece of Art in itself, he was a designer himself and naturally had impeccable taste which showed in every tiny bit of his abode.
We had talked about my liking for classic records and red wine (which I only had once before I met him, but I was trying to sound all cool and shit) before we met and I when I finally got his lounge, I wanted to marry him.
The entire house was dimly lit with candles and huge lamps. Nina Simone was being played on a huge Gramophone, there was a nice bottle of red wine on the table with 2 goblets, dinner was on the table, his corridor space was decorated with the best art I have ever seen in Pakistan and the lounge had a nice cozy feel.
He came in minutes after I had settled in. We had just started talking before he told me that he was hungry was only waiting for me and so we proceeded with dinner. He opened the bottle of wine, poured us 2 glasses and then our conversation just never seemed to end. We talked about every single thing that one could imagine. And thats when he told me he was twice my age. He was 43. FORTY FUCKING THREE. I couldn’t believe my eyes; I thought he was in his early thirties or something. But I did not care because I was just madly in love.
He had to fly out of town the next day and so we took our glasses and headed over to the bedroom so that I could help him pack. I picked out all the clothes I thought he would look good in and he played along. I got up to wash my hands and when I returned, he was standing shirtless in the bedroom. I thought to myself “This is NOT how I planned this”. He looked at me and smiled at the fact that I looked extremely scandalised. He then said,
“Do you want to go to bed?”
And that is how I had planned it. We both laid down in his bed and I was fully clothed while he wasn’t, to which he said
“Are you going to keep your clothes on or what? I thought you liked the whole cuddling bit”
The next thing you know…He was going down on me. We did not kiss or make out at all, but we had a pretty amazing time. PRETTY FUCKING AMAZING, for the lack of a better phrase. I was slightly tipsy but I knew exactly what was happening but I was in this zone where I couldn’t figure out if this was reality. All of this, all of what happened sounded too good to be true in a place like Pakistan. While cuddling, I remember I told him
“I can not believe I am in bed with a person who is old enough to be my dad!”
I DONT KNOW WHY I SAID THAT. SO FUCKING RUDE! WHO SAYS SHIT LIKE THAT!!!!
I just remember, I went to sleep with his arms wrapped around me and his cat purring on the bedside table. And all I could think to myself was ‘Wow’.
