Despite the fact that in no culture of the world would you be considered ‘’sweet’’, yet I choose to call you sweet. This is because unlike yourself, I value you. Just like I value the old socks in my closet; the ones with holes and mismatched pairs.
Sweetheart, guess what? You suck! And no I don’t mean it sexually because between me and you we both know that you don’t suck, obviously because you still have internalized homophobia. Rarely has there been a time when I have ventured back into the deep crevices of my numbed mind, thought about you and realized, yes there’s the man who I have always needed. And I pity myself more than I pity your lack of usefulness over why, good Lord why, I chose you over choosing no one in fact! Yes baby, I would have been way better off alone. The sex would have been better, too.
So before I actually begin with recounting my experiences (read: misfortunes) with yourself, let’s get down to one basic fact. The perfume you wear is feminine, very feminine. So feminine that I am pretty sure its bottle reads ‘’for women’’. But you must have been so busy being your pretentious self in the shop you would have forgotten to see the label correctly. And if I liked women’s perfume honey, I would have been straight; fortunately, which I am not. That doesn’t take a genius to figure out.
So let’s begin Mon Amor. French kissing (or even Pakistani kissing) is done with an open mouth. Not a closed one. There is a difference between suckling on mommy’s nipples and kissing your darned boyfriend. But given the stakes of your immaturity I can presume that you are still stuck on the breast-feeding stage in your head. For the sake of humanity, please kiss with a relaxed mouth, not like a patient with a lock-jaw. Be as open with your mouth as you are with your fantasy problems; which are many, and imaginary, and annoying. But hey! At least there is something you are ‘’open’’ about.
Secondly darling, I am about to tell you something. It is definitely going to be very difficult for you to understand. It is indeed a very, very, difficult concept. It actually might take some time to sink in. so I am going to say it quite slowly. Sweetheart, ‘’you are not the center of the universe’’. Yes, I know, that’s what mommy told you, and yes that’s what the-guy-who-wants-to-get-in-your-pants-because-he-is-as-foolish-as-I-was tells you too. But it’s not true. So stop trying to be the magnificence personified divinity, that you so are not. Do that for poor old Divinity’s sake, if not your own.
Honey, gay guys have problems. Straight guys have them too. And guys who don’t know whether they are straight nor gay (which is most of them) have them as well. Having an issue is one thing, marinating in your issues like a Christmas turkey is another. Our house maid complains less about her mother-in-law than you do. And baby, I like having fun, which you are helplessly helpless in providing me any. So atleast add a little fling of adventure to you. No one is asking you to go scaling Mount Everest, even the mountain will laugh at the sight of you trying to do that, but atleast have some ‘’fun’’ in yourself. A little touch of spontaneity.Trust me it won’t hurt more than falling off your bed; which was the cause celeb of your life giving rise to Lord knows how many Facebook statuses.
Another thing baby. There is a reason why people admire Shabana Azmi. And there is a reason why people “admire” Rakhi Sawant. Between the two, which one do you think they’d have in their heart and which one in their bed? So what would you rather work upon; your physicality or your personality?
And yes, watch porn. And read a good sex magazine. If anyone needs that, it’s the guard of our street, and you. Oops I just spilled the beans.
Yours forever, my bad luck!