Pretty. Intelligent. Kind. (If you think beggars deserve their lot
'coz they're lazy', please don't write!). Important to have a
decent sense of humour. I would like to be with someone I can laugh
with - a lot. Above all, wise.
I took down my photos because I'm paranoid that I'll be recognized!
I'll send you photos by email if its that big a deal and you're
totally free to never talk to me again if you think I'm an
Chat me up? I don't bite.
Time was, Okcupid had this thing where you could post "notes" in
addition to your profile. (Ok, I've been here a loong
time). I miss those notes. I'm in a chatty mood now
want to be making the kinds of public utterances I wouldn't care to
admit to friends and acquaintances. Which leaves, oh only the
30,000 or so of you
, persons-of-no-consequence, who could
possibly lend me your ears. I demand an audience!
--------I am a sex fiend (or atleast my Okcupid profile
I arrived at this epiphany in the course of answering some 397
questions on this site.
Out here, I find myself being blithely receptive to enacting the
masochistic rape fantasies of a fictional girlfriend. I
consider "cutting a partner (who asked for it) in
sexual play". I would rather "do the tying than be tied up". Faced
with the opportunity, I *would* have sex with even a cousin who's
attracted to me. I would be "pleased if a partner expressed the
desire to be sexually humiliated" by me. I would date someone just
for the sex. I would date someone I had a one night stand with,
"but only if the sex was good". All of this, without once
having actually been in a situation that required me to act in
these sociopathic ways.
But I wasn't lying.
Thanks to the perverted geniuses who design these questions, I'm
pretty sure I'm the kind of guy parents teach their daughters to
fear. I always knew I had a high libido, but a sex fiend?! Is there
somebody I need to report this stuff to?
But, surely, could it possibly be, is there someone
there who's equally twisted as I am? Now that I've minutely
cataloged each of my inner perversions, is it unreasonable to
expect my candor to be rewarded by finding on this site, my own
'customized' sexual twin?
Guess what? I found some 50 other Indian men on this site who have
almost *exactly* the same sexual fantasies. It's not really helping
my chances of finding my perfect sexual soulmate if I'm like @#%$@#
EVERY GUY on the bloody site!
I'm not shockingly immoral - I'm banal!
------- On Sexiness and Spelling -------------
There's a WAR raging on this site against misspelling! It's insane
just how many
Indian women consider "grammar and spelling"
for sexual attractiveness. Beating all the
odds, it's the fucking spellcheck
that's the latest
This is not something they tell you in kindergarten - learn to
spell or you'll never get laid! Pedagogy is in need of serious
I admit I don't care for poor spelling myself. I couldn't do SMS
talk if I tried. But I'd sleep with any woman I found attractive
(not least because I'm a sex fiend) - regardless
whether she can spell. Here's one example I randomly ran into for
Cute! I'd totally hit on her, despite her very evident difficulty
getting her spelling right.
I think the women of this site should learn the virtues of
inclusiveness from men like me. Call an immediate end to this
grammatic apartheid. Make love not well-shaped sentences!
--------In praise of sluts - including myself
Anne invited me out for drinks last night. She was at a bar with
two of her single girlfriends, one of whom I’d met previously at a
party. She wasn’t bad looking, this 30-something woman, and
apparently she thought I was cute and had insisted that Anne invite
me. I demurred briefly, but decided to join them in the end.
I’m comfortable with older women (26+) – I like hanging out with
them, and I think it’s fun not to have to plough through the
pubescent games and anxieties that accompany younger women. The
game of seduction can then be played, as it should, between adults,
with the due sophistication it deserves. Don’t mistake me, I like
flirting and all the coquetry that goes with it as much as the next
guy. What I like about older women is that there isn’t, or ought
not to be any mystery about where
the game is headed
(unless of course, you’re one of those infamous 30-year-old
virgins, in which case, the gods help you – and kindly keep out of
my way!). There’s something calming about not having to view sex as
an abnormal, illicit bodily activity.
I enjoy being not-young anymore. I enjoy how confident and
comfortable I’ve grown with my body and it’s a relief not to have
to associate sex with anxiety anymore. This is an assumption I
think is easier to share with mature women, and it is for this
reason that seduction is even more enjoyable with them.
How do I describe my disappointment in the “date” that ensued last
night? In what words?
There I sat, being my usual witty, charming, clever, quick-witted
self. It came very naturally to me at first, a little uneasily as
the night wore on, and almost desperately towards the end. It hit
me midway through the evening that she had sortof assumed that it
was solely my
responsibility, as “the guy” at the table,
to take charge and move the conversation forward. The success of
her enterprise of getting herself laid last night (which she
clearly did want) was to depend entirely on me. So whenever I’d
introduce a lull into the conversation, just as a check to ensure I
wasn’t talking excessively at her expense, she’d spend it looking
listlessly around with this silly pout on her face, or fiddling
with her phone. In a “conversation” that lasted nearly two hours, I
can’t remember a single interesting, engrossing thing that she
said. What gets me is that she didn’t even try! I mean, she’d
participate in the conversation by laughing when I was being witty
or nodding appreciatively when I was saying something serious – but
at no point did she even try
to charm me in return.
Is that really such an outlandish expectation?
I see that a lot in women these days (maybe it’s just a reflection
on the women I’ve been running into)– we men are expected to behave
like sitcoms. The onus is squarely on us to be continuously
charming, funny, clever, engrossing and inventive. Women can afford
to be inert, because in the end, they repay us with their bodies –
the only currency they need. Conventional prudishness/morality has
turned women into prostitutes – but also worse, into idiots. On
this theory, the ‘failure’ of the date is the failure of the guy to
the get the girl to subscribe. So I realize in retrospect, she
wasn’t being silent
at those intervals, this girl, she was
waiting expectantly for the channel to flip!
In order for her plan to have sex last night to work out, she
needed me to observe all the pejorative cultural stereotypes about
masculinity that her liberal feminist prattle overtly rejects. I’d
have to make her an “indecent proposal” – nothing less. And then
she could have sex with me, and then scurry off and tell her
friends what an ape I was. She could still be the “good girl” who
fell prey to my rapacious male aggressiveness. No dice. I wasn’t
And then somewhere towards the end she said something offhand, but
which I think sums up her entire attitude towards dating men – she
said “anyway sex is always
good for the guy” – implying
that merely the opportunity to lay in bed next to a naked woman was
automatically pleasurable to us men, and payment enough.. I ended
the date shortly thereafter – somewhat abruptly, but I’d had enough
I’ve slept with enough women by now to know great sex from the
rest. I know that sex isn’t always as automatic as the kind we
glimpse in the porn flicks. Like all shared activity, it depends on
subtle negotiations between the partners about what works for each
(and what doesn’t). The best sex I’ve had has been part
communication and part pure spontaneity. Sometimes giving (rather
than receiving) pleasure is the most enjoyable part about sex. I
can almost never enjoy sex when I’m the only one having fun
(although I’m in the reverse situation frequently).
Anyway, the point of this epic rant is that I felt both annoyed and
sorry for this girl. If sexual desire – especially in women -
hadn’t been pathologised so completely in our culture, we’d both
have had a good time last night.
I really like older women, but I guess that’s not enough. I need
them to be “bad” women, “bitches”, “sluts”, who are ultimately the
only ones with the dignity and self-assurance to seek out and get
what they want on non-remunerative terms. They’re the ones who see
that sexual desire is not a disease, but a healthy, ‘natural’
bodily function that we’ve all been equipped for since the days of
Adam. And as Kundera is fond of saying, we only live once in
body. This isn’t a rehearsal for another life we will
---- Desire --- Sir Philip Sydney
Thou blind man's mark, thou fool's self-chosen snare,
Fond fancy's scum, and dregs of scattered thought ;
Band of all evils, cradle of causeless care ;
Thou web of will, whose end is never wrought ;
Desire, desire ! I have too dearly bought,
With price of mangled mind, thy worthless ware ;
Too long, too long, asleep thou hast me brought,
Who shouldst my mind to higher things prepare.
But yet in vain thou hast my ruin sought ;
In vain thou madest me to vain things aspire ;
In vain thou kindlest all thy smoky fire ;
For virtue hath this better lesson taught,—
Within myself to seek my only hire,
Desiring nought but how to kill desire.
What can I say? I too have "too dearly bought, with price of
mangled mind" desire's worthless ware.
Too long desire has "asleep, hast me brought", who shouldst,
definitely, "my mind to higher things prepare".
What is Litost? Litost is an untranslatable Czech word. Its first
syllable, which is long and stressed, sounds like the wail of an
abandoned dog. As for the meaning of this word, I have looked in
vain in other languages for an equivalent, though I find it
difficult to imagine how anyone can understand the human soul
without it. Take an instance from the student’s childhood. His
parents made him take violin lessons. He was not very gifted and
his teacher would interrupt him to criticize his mistakes in an
old, unbearable voice. He felt humiliated, and he wanted to cry.
But instead of trying to play in tune and not make mistakes, he
would deliberately play wrong notes, the teacher’s voice would
become still more unbearable and harsh, and he himself would sink
deeper and deeper into his litost.
What then is litost? Litost is a state of torment created
by the sudden sight of one’s own misery. Anyone with wide
experience of the common imperfection of mankind is relatively
sheltered from the shocks of litost. For him, the sight of his own
misery is ordinary and uninteresting. Litost, therefore, is
characteristic of the age of inexperience. It is one of the
ornaments of youth.