The year draws to an end, it’s a good time to reflect on every adventure along the way. This was the year of romance, of the most wonderful dates.
I don’t understand why millennials don’t go out on dates. Not ‘let’s go to a fancy bar, get drunk out of our minds and have sloppy sex after’ but actual dates, where you get to know one another through what seems like inane activities to the outside world.
Last week in Bombay, a lovely man and I went to a museum, a local eatery and then to a bookstore. We spent hours marvelling at art, architecture and talking about everything from politics to literature to sexuality and human psychology. There was no “end game” to end up in bed together.
I guess why I enjoy the company of men who are slightly older is because they’ve passed that “going to fuck every thing that moves” phase. Don’t get me wrong, they can be extremely horny but always more selective about their partners. They need something more than my lithe body, they need my mind. It excites me, their ability to see me as a person and not just an object of desire.
In monsoon, when I was hitting it up with ** he insisted that we do a proper dinner date atleast once. “Why? We’re fucking anyway” I protested. “You kids today have no dating etiquette” he’d convinced me to dress up, wear makeup and act like an adult lady and everything. Dinner was great, he couldn’t take his eyes off me (in a saree) and to be fair he looked like a dreamboat too, in his dinner jacket and tie. We drank single malt and talked science and philosophy. We took our time and enjoyed every second of each other’s company. “What do you want for dessert?” “You” “Oh you youngling. Want to share the cheesecake?” It was such a nice day. “Don’t you want to come upstairs?” I asked him as he dropped me home later at night. He merely smiled, kissed me on the mouth, thanked me for the company and reminded me once again how beautiful I looked. I blushed like a teenager, felt giddy and lightheaded. He waited downstairs till I got inside safely. “I’ll see you tomorrow, don’t worry, we can fuck then. Tonight I wanted to take you out on a date and romance you”
I put the single long stemmed rose into a glass since I don’t have a vase at home yet, slept with a smile on my face that night.
Boyfriend boy and I did a series of dates as well. Just walking around, exploring nooks and corners of the city. He’d hold my hand as we strolled in the evenings. Sometimes we’d get some ice cream, sit around somewhere and people watch on the streets. Sometimes we’d pop into any cute little café that’d pique our interest. We’d grab a lot of eyeballs when on the road and the devil would hold me a little too close or grab my hand and pull me towards him every time a group of people were watching. “Give them a show” “why not.”
It was sweet really, it became almost instinctive towards the end to sleep like a baby at night with his arms around me. I’ll miss the bloke every now and then, just napping and eating and watching stupid junk with him.
But my favourite date was actually the one which wasn’t a date at all. We took a break from fucking, Mister Hotstuff and I, went out for some ice cream at night. Later, we lay together and read, his eyes set on the book with deep concentration and his fingers tracing the contours of my body lightly as I fidgeted around, sometimes photographing him not-so-discreetly. It was beautiful, something straight out of a fantasy almost. It helped that it was monsoon and my cunt was so hungry for him. I liked that it didn’t take too much persuading for him to stay the night. I’ll admit I did feel a little bit sad when he left but I went back to sleep and woke up still feeling his loving.
One will argue that romance cannot really exist in a world of instant messaging and social media but I’d beg to disagree. In a world increasingly focussed on fomo, I guess it’s the golden moments of simple things that really make you feel alive and more loved than ever before.
